Page 24 of Meating Dalton

“Dalton!” she screams, pussy sucking me in, forcing me to come with her.

“Fuck,” I groan, closing my eyes, letting my cum splash her insides. I keep driving my spurting cock in and out of her, riding the aftershocks with her until we’re both slumped against each other, breathing in sync.

“Lasher,” she croaks. Lasher? The fuck face that worked with my father?

“I think your father is Zachary Lasher, but I never met him. I don’t know him, so I couldn’t have fucked him. Actually, before you, I thought I’d never let a Lasher fuck me.” She keeps her eyes closed, but tears glisten in the corners.

Did Lashers hurt my flower? Because if I can slit Samantha’s throat and she raised me, then blood-kin can get some too.

“Did they hurt you?” I ask softly, swiping a stray tear away. She’s mine. If anyone is going to make her cry, it’ll be me.

She snorts, shaking her pretty head. “No. Actually, my niece is involved with one and so is my sister.” Her eyes peer up at me, searching. For what? Wait. Tilting my head, I think back to her sister, the dark-haired woman and the strange man with the facial scars.

“Your sister is fucking the Joker?” She laughs, body shaking beneath me. Her hands come up to wipe at her face, too.

“Yeah. Wait,” her smile drops and she glares at me. “How do you know what he looks like? Did you follow my sister?” Her lips twist into a frown, nostrils flaring. Looks like big sister is surfacing, but was that a rhetorical question? Because it’s obvious I did.

I shrug my shoulders, then to clarify, beating any imaginative fears swimming in her head, I say, “I didn’t touch or harm her or the freak. I just watched. But it didn’t look like you ever spent time over there, so I wasn’t sure if you were close. So I followed you instead.”

I don’t admit I considered taking her sister to draw her out. It feels like a bad time.

Her little hands fly up, swatting at my chest. It’s cute and I kiss her silent, sweeping my tongue into her mouth, collecting her flavor. Retreating, I murmur words I never thought would come out of my mouth.

“I’m sorry for following your sister. It won’t happen again. I’m happy with the Bell I’ve got.” My hips shift to remind her of where we’re joined.

She gasped, shaking her head, eyes still closed. “What am I going to do with you?” I grin because I can think of fun ways to kill time. And they don’t involve my knives. Glancing down, I amend that to it only involves a spear and I can vouch for this one being safe to use.

“Perv,” she whispers, pulling my face down to hers. Guilty as charged.

MISTAKES

NATALIA

Feeling well and thoroughly fucked, I roll over, blindly searching for a warm body. When my hand meets cool sheets, I blink open drowsy eyes. Slowly, the events of the night—or day—before trickles into my mind.

Coffee house. Office. Jason. Dalton.

I jolt upright in a bed that definitely isn’t my own. A shadow separates from the darkness of the room before light chases it away. Dalton stands near the bedside table and lamp. Normally full lips are pinched and his nostrils flare periodically.

“Dalton?” I rasp from a sleep-clogged throat.

“Sorry to wake you,” he whispers, blue eyes bouncing around and avoiding mine. I scoot across the bed, holding the sheet to my naked chest.

“Talk to me. Why are you up? What’s wrong?” My eyes lock on his tattooed chest, rapidly moving up and down.

“She—” He breaks off, shaking his head. Something’s definitely bothering him.

“I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing,” he admits, looking across the room at the dresser pressed against the wall.

“I don’t even know why I’m doing it. Ifshedidn’t want me, why the fuck would my birth parents?” His words pierce my heart, slinking through layers of armor and finding a weak spot. Oh, boy, I know that spiral all too well. Blinking painful memories away, I stretch a hand out, beckoning Dalton to rejoin me on the bed.

With tense shoulders and harsh breathing, he slumps to the bed, back facing me. I slide closer until I can rest my face against his back.

“I used to wonder why the Bells adopted me,” I whisper into his skin. His head jerks right, but otherwise, he doesn’t move. The one motion lets me know he’s listening.

“They found out they were expecting a few months after my adoption got finalized. They could’ve switched to fostering until they found me a new home while waiting for Sarah to be born. Instead, they kept me. Sometimes, I used to wish they hadn’t.” Pain stabs into my chest, and I close my eyes.

I love my sister, but it took years for me to realize that. Because of our parents, I resented her and carried the guilt of hating someone unworthy of my animosity. She did nothing to deserve it. She was simply the standard the Bells held me to and since I wasn’t their biological daughter, of course, I’d always fall short.

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