Page 157 of Silenced

Again.

I’m too fucking old for this, but not around her.

I retreat to her mouth, biting at her lips until she opens to me and I can thrust my cum-drenched tongue against hers.

Savoring her mewl of displeasure, I kneel on the bed and slide between her thighs.

“You’ve done this before, haven’t you?” she rasps as I rub my cock over her clit, her knees pinning my hips in place. “You didn’t wake me up before though,” she answers, seeming to know that I won’t.

As I find her slit, a part of me finds it impossible to believe that she’s letting me inside her. Not only after waking up to discover me jacking off over her face but because of the day’s admissions.

But I’ve never looked a gift horse in the mouth and I won’t start tonight.

I press my hands to either side of her head then lower myself onto her.

The only thing I want from this is her pleasure.

I want to hear her scream as I make love to her.

I need that.

I need to know she wants me.

If she read between the lines, I need to know that I haven’t repulsed her with my past.

A soft sob is drawn from her when Ifinallyget to slide home. She’s not as wet as I’d like, but she takes me. Each inch. Until I’m cosseted on all sides by her heat.

Mysolnyshko.

Beneath me, she shudders. “God, you feel so wonderful, Nikolai. You fill me so right. So perfectly.”

My nostrils flare. “You take me like the good girl you are, Cassiopeia. My good girl.” When her shudder turns into a low groan that has her nails digging into my spine, I urge the words out, force them when my throat wants to clam up because she deserves tohearthis. “This pretty little pussy, Cassiopeia, belongs to me. It’s mine and I will always look after what’s mine.”

If anything could come from today’s confession, she should knowthat.

I will debase myself to protect her. Commit the wickedest of sins to keep her safe.

She.

Is.

Mine.

The sound of her heavy breathing in my ear is like a wet dream come to life.

I could never have imagined when I was fifteen, jacking off in front of strangers for pay, getting fucked by them to make rent, that when I was in my forties, she’d be here.

My goddess.

My beautiful Cassiopeia.

My reward.

I whisper the words in her ear and feel her cunt clutch at me. My ugly voice, my ugly scars, my ugly nature aren’t so repulsive to her. She responds to me like no other ever has or ever will.

Ignoring the rhythmic tugs on my dick, I don’t speed up, don’t jackhammer into her; this isn’t a race. It’s a fucking ritual—a claiming.

She’s mine.

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