Page 45 of The Art of Dying

“You have no idea.”

“He doesn’t matter. He can never hurt me again. I’m happier than I’ve ever been, and he’ll spend the rest of his life miserable. Being Mason is punishment enough.”

“You’re not wrong, but he still needs shot in the face.” I paused. “I mean… I shouldn’t have said that. I’m just having very, very violent thoughts right now. But you’re right. You’re next to me, you’re safe, and you never have to worry about him again. That’s a promise.”

She intertwined her fingers in my free hand and brought them to her lips, then relaxed her head against me. After another few minutes of silence, she spoke again. “It feels weird to talk about anything else after that.”

I chuckled. “I was just thinking the same thing.” I put down my glass and picked up the clicker, pointing it at the TV. “I vote distraction.”

“Good idea.” But she sat her wine glass on the end table, took the clicker out of my hand, and set it on the arm of the couch.

And then, she straddled me.

All I could do was grin like an idiot while she pulled her scrub top over her head and then her sports bra. She bent down to kiss me, cradling my jaw in her small, soft hands. She let my tongue slip into her mouth, and she arched her back when I pressed my fingers into her hips, pulling her forward over my already rock-hard dick. The way she kissed me changed and then she grabbed for my T-shirt, pulling it over my head.

I leaned back, letting her tug at my belt and then lifted my ass to help her pull down my pants just enough so she could lower herself onto my lap. She slowly worked her hips until I fully slid inside of her. My head fell back, unable to focus on anything else but her tight, wet skin hugging my cock.

“It’s a better distraction than the TV,” she whispered against my lips.

All I could do was nod.

Mack sat up and grabbed my shoulders while her knees sunk into the cushions on each side of me. Each time she lifted up, I wanted to come, and every time she lowered again, I nearly lost it. My gaze poured over her soft skin, the way she moved, her perfect tits bouncing as she did, the mix of contentment and concentration in her expression, the way her eyes sometimes rolled back followed by a small, involuntary smile. Her fingernails dug into my skin, but I couldn’t feel it, I couldn’t think about or feel anything but her ass bouncing on my thighs and the warm, slick sensation of the most amazing pussy I’d ever experienced. It was mine. She was all mine. I was going to make her my wife, treat her better than she’d ever been treated, and make her forget about anyone else.

With that thought, I lifted her up and carried her to the rug, wasting no time to thrust myself inside her again. She cried out, locking her ankles at the small of my back. I tried to put my forearms under her to minimize any rug burn, but she felt so warm, so wet, and so damn good. Her soft moans and whimpers made it impossible to concentrate. Her thighs tightened and she lifted her hips.

“There. Just like that,” she said simply.

It took every bit of concentration I could muster to remember what spot I was hitting and to repeat it again, but just a few more thrusts at that angle and rhythm, and she surrendered to the wave that overwhelmed her body. Mack’s back arched, her knees quivered, and just when I thought her nails were going to pierce the skin of my back, she wailed, a crescendo of pleasure—the best kind of pain.

“Oh, my God. That was,” she said, trying to catch her breath, “that was…” sniffed once and then covered her eyes with her hands and began to cry.

“What?” I asked, alarmed. I leaned back to look at her, but then she reached for me and held me close.

“No, don’t move,” she said, still crying.

“Don’t move? Babe, what’s wrong? Did I hurt you?”

She shook her head. “No.” She wiped one eye and then the other. “No, I have no idea why I’m crying. You didn’t hurt me.”

“Okay, but… what happened?”

She shrugged, sheepish. “Just really, really happy I guess.”

“So… you’re okay?”

She smiled with tears still in her eyes, then touched her fingers to my cheek. “I’m more than okay. I’m so in love with you, Kitsch.”

I breathed out. “Oh, thank God.” I planted a dozen tiny kisses on her neck and cheeks while she giggled.

I rolled over onto my back, pulling her against me. She nuzzled my neck and then sighed.

“I’m going to take a shower. I’ve been worried about this all day.”

I kissed her hair. “Well, enough of that. At the end of the day, the end of an argument, the end of the world, baby, I’m still gonna love you.”

She traced my bottom lip with her finger, kissed me once, smiled and then stood, trotting to the bathroom. I watched her until she closed the door behind her and then I remembered what she’d told me about Mason. My face felt hot again, and my heart began to thump against my ribcage. I stood and paced a few times. The shower was on, and Mack was singing a happy tune. I tried to concentrate on her voice, on the sounds of the water hitting the shower curtain, even thought about her beautiful silhouette, but rage was beginning to boil over.

Quietly, I padded to the office, picked up the phone, and dialed. A tone sounded. Again… and again, until finally Sully answered.

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