Page 49 of Sorrow

She suckles once in gratitude and squeezes my leg, making me set my fork aside completely. Fuck this food.

“Do it again. Suckle that cock like it’s yours.”

Because it is.

Maybe I hate it a little, but it’s hers.

She lets out a hungry little moan before my cock disappears into her throat. She’s not suckling now, she’s blowing me like she’s dying for my cum. It’s just like my Hurricane to take a mile when she’s given a few inches.

These days, I’m finding it more endearing than irritating. Still, I need her to beg for it again.

Tugging her off by her hair is hard. My cock throbs angrily when the warmth of her mouth leaves me. “You want my cum? You think you’ve earned it, baby?”

Didn’t mean to call her that, but whatever.

As she catches her breath, I grip the base of my cock and slap her lips.

“I don’t know if I’ve earned it or not, but I think you deserve to come in a nice tight throat, don’t you?”

What a way to word it... she’s learning.

“I think you’ve earned it,” I say honestly. “Suck me like air is offensive to your lungs.”

I shove myself back inside with a growl, making her choke. There’s nothing flawless about the way she blows me and there probably never will be — but god damn, she knows what I want. It doesn’t matter that she can’t take it or that she’s gagging hard enough to make her eyes water, she’s not stopping.

She’s putting me and my pleasure above everything else, and if I had a heart, I’d give it to her right here and now. She’s fucking owning me, claiming me. And when her eyes roll as I leak into her throat, I know no other woman will ever make me feel this good again.

“Fuck,” I hiss, hips moving up whether I mean them to or not because I’m too fucking close already. Goddamnit. “Samara, I’m gonna fucking blow. Don’t s-stop.”

The little tease looks me dead in the eyes and stops, breathing for a moment, then fucking winks at me and buries my cock so deep in her throat, I feel like she’s stealing much more than just my cum when I let go.

An embarrassing whimper escapes me as she swallows everything I have to give, and as we sit there trying to breathe, I have this strange urge to pull her in close and never let her go.

It scares me much more than The Sons ever have.

She’s better at this than she thinks.

“So what’s for dinner?”

“Greedy girl... didn’t you just eat?”

I’m teasing, and the fact that she shows me her empty tongue with a grin only makes me feel even softer for her.

I don’t know what’s happening inside of me anymore, but somehow she clawed her way in there and is rearranging everything she touches. The craziest part about that is I don’t think I mind anymore.

I think I might want her in there.

20

Hayes

When the doorbell rings out of nowhere, I’m instantly on guard. I’m not the only one either. Boo immediately grabs for his gun, rushing over to lean against a wall before I can even stand from the couch. “Who’s that?” he mouths, frowning further when I shrug. I can hear my heartbeat in my ears when Samara peeks her head out of the bedroom, and I rush over to shove her back inside before she can come out. If The Sons are here to truly declare war, then I need her to hide for as long as she can, even though I have a feeling she’ll do the opposite.

I’m aware of the possibility that we might be overreacting, but with everything going on, I have a feeling deep in my gut that we’renot. Boo was pretty annoyed at me when I let him know what happened with Tristan, but after I explained what that asshole said, he understood why I couldn’t keep it together. The Sons and everyone around them are shit. He wasn’t surprised that their younger siblings aren’t exceptions.

But as I slowly make my way toward the front door, I feel something akin to regret at my choices. I made a stand in a public space, and whether those brothers get along or not, it’s the principle behind my actions. I should’ve gotten back at Tristan in other ways, I just couldn’t stop myself when he started running his mouth. Sometimes restraint isn’t my strong suit.

Now we’re here.

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