Page 66 of Eight Second Hearts

I dig my nails in and watch as he writhes. I speed up my hips, riding him faster now. “You’re such a good boy,” I groan.

“I’m such a good boy,” he repeats agreeing, completely submissive as I ride him. “Such a good boy.”

“Yes,” I hiss. Our hips slap together as I claim him, fucking him as much as he wants to be fucked. His hands flutter at my hips and I grab them, pinning them above his head as I lift and drop my hips. They’re going to hurt after this. I’ll have to take my pills. But I can’t bring myself to care. “You feel so good inside me.”

“Do I fill you up?” he groans, the tendons of his neck tense as he lets me dominate him.

“I’m so full,” I sigh. “Tell me how it feels.”

“You feel like heaven,” he grits out. “Like heaven and hell all at the same time.”

My hands trail down his arms, my release slowly building. Slowly, I circle his neck, and he tilts up his chin to give me better access. He leaves his hands where I pinned them, like the good boy he is.

“I want you to come for me,” I order as our pelvises slap against each other. My thighs begin to shake. “Right now.”

His stomach muscles tense brutally as I tighten my hands, choking him as I moan out his name as I come undone on top of him. I lose control of how tight I’m squeezing and squeeze too much, my body convulsing as I leak on his cock. His mouth is open on a silent moan as his cock jumps inside me, adding to the mixture, painting me with his submissiveness. As I come down from the high, I realize just how tight I’m squeezing and release him, watching him suck in great lungfuls of air as I collapse on his chest.

“I’m sorry,” I pant, my own lungs burning. “I didn’t mean to?—”

“It’s okay, Indie bird,” he coos. “I’d gladly die with your pussy wrapped around my cock.”

I laugh and wrap my arms around him, sighing when he finally wraps his own arms around me, hugging me tight. “You’re amazing,” I tell him. “You know that.”

“Am I?” he asks, and I can tell it’s a genuine question. He doesn’t believe it.

I sit up and look him in the eyes. “You are.”

He blinks rapidly, and I can tell I’ve struck him. “You can collar me,” he whispers. “If you’d like. I’d let you do anything to me you want, Indie bird.”

I cup his cheeks, leaning down so that I’m right in front of his face. “No collars,” I command, my voice hard. “If you let me do anything, then I want you to be free, Beau. No collars. No leash. Freedom to be as you wish.”

His hands come up to cover my hands, holding me there as he fails to hold back the tears. I watch as his pain rushes up to meet me and I accept it. I wrap him in my arms and hold on tight, letting him collapse, letting him feel it.

Freedom. The Stray of Fairview Acres is no stray.

He has a home. He has a home. He has no owner but himself.

Chapter 41

Indie

The sound of glass shattering jerks me violently awake. I sit up in bed, trying to rub the sleep from my eyes. Beside me, Beau is fast asleep, his hair strewn across his face, his arm slung across my lap. He doesn’t wake up, not even when there’s a loud clattering and the sounds of metal pans clanking together.

“Beau,” I whisper, shaking his shoulder.

“Hmm,” he hums, still very much asleep.

“I think there’s someone in the house,” I say.

He tenses and sits up, suddenly wide awake. “What?” His fist rubs the sleep from his eyes, trying to get rid of the grogginess.

“Listen,” I murmur.

At first, there’s nothing but the howling of the wind outside. I glance out the window to see snow swirling in the lights. I realize when the wind whips against the windows, making them shudder, that the storm must have arrived in the middle of the night. How much snow have we gotten? I can’t tell from just glancing out the window.

Pots and pans clatter again and we both tense, reminded exactly what we’d been listening for. Another glass item shatters, and I touch Beau’s arm, worried.

“I’ll take care of it,” he whispers. “Stay here.”

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