Page 70 of Devil's Thirst

I’m so intensely captivated by his body that cautionary thoughts escape me. I’m moving on pure instinct when I reach out and wrap my fingers around his soapy cock.

Sante hisses, his body going rigid.

I peek up at him, intoxicated by my effect on him. It’s hard to decide where to look, but in the end, the velvety goodness pulsing in my palm owns my curiosity. My fingers don’t reach all the way around him. I give a little squeeze, noting they still don’t connect, then slowly glide my fist down to the base and back up. The soap is a perfect lubricant. I feel every vein and supple ridge against my palm.

At this moment, I want to see this man come more than anything in the world.

Thank God, my hand-job game is golden. It’s been the saving grace for a couple of my prior relationships. When you don’t orgasm and aren’t normally drawn to sex, a good handy is essential.

I peer up at Sante through my wet lashes and run my tongue along my bottom lip, then add a second hand to the mix. Sante’s eyes widen.

“Fuck, you’re full of surprises.” His eyes drift shut, head drifting back as I begin to twist and tug on his hardening cock. So long as I don’t think about putting that thing inside me, I relish the feel of him—the soft stretch of his skin gliding over the tempered steel within.

Penises always seemed awkward to me before, yet there’s nothing awkward about his. This masterpiece of nature should be pictured in the dictionary next to the word virility.

“I’m gonna paint you with my cum, pet. You … good with that?” he says through clenched teeth.

I grin up at him, doubling down on my efforts.

He presses his fists against the walls on either side of him, his abs flexing tightly. “Jesus, piccola. Take it, let me see my cum all over you.” A growl starts low in his chest, then rises up to release past his parted lips as jets of semen spurt onto my belly and chest.

I let my hand slip away as soon as I see him start to flinch at my touch, overly sensitized from his orgasm. I love that I now know how that feels. I understand.

Sante flattens one hand over the sticky cum on my stomach and drags it up to cup my breast while his other hand collars the back of my neck and brings us together in a kiss. His touch is reverent. He holds nothing back, and I feel each devoted swipe of his tongue for the promise that it is.

He rests his forehead against mine as we catch our breath.

“You have more to do in here?”

I nod. “I need to shave.” No one likes a hairy ballerina.

“Take your time. I’ll keep the bed warm.” He rinses himself, then cleans the cum from my body before exiting the shower.

Despite his instructions, I hurry through a quick shave, ready to get back to him. It’s a foreign feeling to me. I’m usually not a fan of bedtime for multiple reasons. None of that seems to matter where Sante is concerned.

I even decide to wear my tank top and panties that I used to wear before I started having an overnight guest. Judging by the appreciation in his eyes when I join him in bed, Sante approves. He tucks me into his side with my head resting on his chest. It feels good, but there’s no way I can sleep like that, so I eventuallyroll onto my side, facing away from him. He grunts at my departure, but I keep at least one point of contact between us, which seems to satisfy him.

The next thing I know, I’m staring into the arctic eyes of a man I never want to see again.

He’s hovering over me, calling my name.

Horror threatens to consume me. Ears ringing. Heart pounding.

I have to get away. I have to run.

But I can’t. He’s too strong. He’s holding me down.

“Mellie, baby. Please, wake up. Mellie, you’re having a nightmare. You need to wake up.”

Ice blue warms to dark brown as the words start to penetrate. Confusion sets in, and my brain scrambles to catch up.

What the hell is happening?

“That’s it, baby. Jesus, you scared the shit outta me.” Sante wraps me in his arms.

It was a dream. A nightmare.

I close my eyes, trying to erase all vestiges of that horrific blue stare. I haven’t had a nightmare in ages. It doesn’t make sense to me. Yes, Talbot is more in the forefront of my mind lately, but that’s because his reign of terror is ending. I feel safer now than I have in years. It’s like my subconscious can’t stand to let me find peace.

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