Page 14 of Stutter

I scowl. “Did you at least do it the night I roofied him?”

Damon nods. “Yeah. He’s tagged. That’s how I know he’s currently flying over the Atlantic as we speak.”

“What a fucking wuss-puss.” We’re leaving tonight anyway he couldn’t have waited? Then again, it’s not like he gave us a chance to speak to him properly. That’s why him coming on this trip was pertinent. We wanted to talk to him. All of us. As afamily. Because as fucked up as it is, as fucked up as we are, that’s exactly what we are.

Silver eyes flash to mine, a grim shadow creeps over his features. “I’m staying here tonight to be with my parents. I’ll be home Sunday night. ”

“So they’re… fixing things?”

He chuckles. “My parents should have never separated, Jonas. All these years apart, so many failed relationships between them, they were always each other’s end game. What happened to Maddie was terrible, but it wasn’t what happened that tore them apart – it was the distance. Trying to solve a murder from thousands of miles away, spending money to go back and forth, it takes a toll on you. Now they can be together again.”

“Can they, though? Doesn’t your father still have his entire career in the US?”

“He does, but if I know the man like I think I do, he’ll retire early. There’s nothing that man wouldn’t do for my mother. He’s proven that more than once already.” He says somberly as the shower cuts off and I frown.

Damn. I really wanted to shower with her.

“Don’t worry about a thing. I’ll get us home. Have you thought more about Kronos?”

Now the handsome fucker smirks at me. “Get her the dog but wait until I’m home. I want to see the look on her face when you present her with the old Doberman.” He says as the bathroom door opens and steam rolls out like low drifting fog.

“That’s fine. I need to get him transferred closer for pick up.”

I’m excited. I found an animal shelter in Jersey that caters to rescuing dogs and cats and having them trained as service animals but they got lucky with the one I chose for Raven. Kronos is a ten-year-old service dog that belonged to a veteran that lost his battle with depression. He’s been in a shelter for the last three months and as soon as I saw him, I started making plans to get Kronos. When I had Syndicate matters to see to in New York, (which hasn’t been often lately but when I am called it’s been all-nighters) I’d stop by to hang out with him so he’d grow used to seeing me. I just know he’s going to love Raven and I know Ravenwill love him back. Plus, having him around to protect her when neither of us are home would make me feel a lot better – mostly because she’s been sleepwalking more frequently the last few weeks that we’ve been at Damon’s. Because of it, we had to install deadbolts on the tops of doorways. During the day, they’re unlocked, but nights are a completely different story.

Raven walks around, muttering, voice hoarse, or silently stammering at a wall. It’s never scared me, when I wake up and find her, not even when she looks like a ghost trying to escape. It’s just now we’ve been finding her sleeping in the oddest positions in the oddest places. The only time shedoesn’twander off is when we’re both in bed beside her, and unfortunately, since I still have to show up for Syndicate matters and meetings, it’s not always.

Speaking of - my eyes roam from her little feet, up to the tattoo that starts on her ankle and goes up her leg, her knee, her ample thigh, still slick with water and I salivate, an absolute Pavlovian response to her. Sure she’s wearing a towel now, but I know exactly what’s underneath – the most beautiful body I’ve ever seen, complete with wide hips, the soft swell of her stomach, a narrow waist, and teardrop titties that aren’t overly large, but enough to fill my hands.

Made for me.

She stills at my perusal of her, a knowing look in those caramel eyes of hers, wet, curling rivulets of her hair two shades darker cling to her shoulders and I bite my lower lip. “Drop the towel baby. Slowly.” I bite my lips in appreciation when she does, clasping her hands in front of her, the towel pooled lazily at her feet like a cloud. It takes me three wide steps to get to her and when I do, I drop to my knees, a servant before his goddess and crawl to her.

I have licked and kissed every square inch of this woman’s body, from toes to crown, fucked her in every possible position, and had her suck me in every possible way and I simply just can’t get enough. She’s in my mind, my heart, my veins. I’m a fucking addict and she’s my drug.

Every breathy sigh, every whisper, giggle, and little motion of her hands, reminds me just how much I’m wrapped around her little finger. One wish and I’ll do whatever possible to make it come true. One command and I’m on it. In whatever way she needs me, I’m there. As a friend, a lover, someone to clean up behind her as she eradicates the Syndicate one by one. I’m her to command and I don’t mind it.

I stare up at her as I kiss the trimmed triangle on her mound, and then a little lower to her lips, extending my tongue as far out as I can to lick her slit from hole to clit, groaning when her tang lands on my taste buds. Nothing but addictive ambrosia.

Reversed Erotomania.

That’s what I’m diagnosed with. Along with a mild case of attention deficit disorder. But when she’s in my line of sight, or just near me, I have no issues paying attention. But my erotomania, on the other hand, goes haywire. I have to touch her, see her, taste her, to feel okay inside. Whatever ounce of her I get is okay and not okay at the same time because I always want more.

Need more.

I simply cease to exist away from her because I was made for her.

Her thighs shake and I’m rewarded with more of her nectar, continuing to kiss and lick and suck and swirl my tongue. Her hands go to my head, tugging my hair so I can tongue fuck her deeper, and her hips buck, fucking my face. I moan, narrowing my eyes, hoping she understands what I’m saying while I suffocate in her pussy.

That’s my baby. Fuck my face. Come all over my tongue like my sick little slut.

Her eyes widen, her mouth opens, those delicious sighs the only sound in the room besides my grunts of approval and my tongue lapping up every fucking drop of cream she gives me. She goes rigid, her orgasm taking over and I keep licking through it until she spasms one last time.

She lets me go, and I sit back on my heels, my dick raging behind my zipper, but I can wait till later. I lick my lips and grin up at her.

“Better?”

She gives a sleepy nod and a lazy smile.

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