Page 44 of Widow's Walk

My cock slips out of her and I have her on her hands in knees in the next moment. Gripping either side of her ass, I spread her and tongue the fuck out of her. Every inch of her most delicate areas. I dart my tongue in and out of her tight rim, then up and down the seams of her cunt.

I sit back, and she drops down to her elbows so she is open nicely for me. Pulling her ass cheeks apart, I spit on her asshole before using my thumb again to spread it and dip it inside.

She moans and rocks her body and curls her fists in sexual frustration. Not wanting to torture either us any further, I push the head of my cock in her ass at a leisurely pace until I bottom out.

Fuck. Fuck, it feels good.

I curl my body around her and begin moving. One hand fists her ass while my other snakes back between her thighs to bury inside her cunt. She cries out and tries to fuck me back. And it turns barbaric.

I rut her, her body jolting, my fingers anchored inside her, my cock ready to combust. She cries out and convulses, but I don’t stop. I don’t relent. I fuck both her holes harder. She tries to squirm away on instinct, her body overstimulated, but I own her.

I put more of my weight on her and piston my hips until I’m gritting my teeth with a groan caught in my throat. The base of my cock is sticky and her cum has my hand dripping.

I drop to my side, pulling her with me as we both try to clear the stars from our vision. I nuzzle my face into her hair and use her soothing scent to steady my breathing.

I’m more than content right now. I’m home. With Sinclair.

This was just a taste of what our life together will be like.

Chapter eighteen

Sinclair

I’m just coming out of the hedge maze after hanging out with Blender when I see Blackwell.

He’s standing at the top of the steps, hovering over like a Persian god, all regal and handsome as fuck. His hands are casually shoved into his pockets, and there’s a black silk scarf around his neck, owning the fuck out of it.

It should be a sin to look that good while doing absolutely nothing.

It’s infuriating how he can get my blood pumping without saying a word or moving an inch. He lets the silence speak for itself. It makes me want to choke him with his own scarf and demand he release me. To free me of whatever spell he’s cast or whatever chemical imbalance he triggers in my system.

Because whatever this is, it’s an illness I’m starting to like.

“You seem to like the garden,” he states as I join him at the top of the steps.

“Just the maze.”

He glances over at it and smirks. “It took Harlan till he was a teenager to find his way out of it.”

“What about Dane?”

“He still can’t find his way out.”

I grin. “And you?”

“Took me a couple of days.”

My grin turns smug, and I move past him, heading towards the back doors. I’m unsure of how to act around him. We’re engaged to be married, but not in the traditional sense. We’re certainly sexually compatible. There’s no denying the chemistry there, but we’re not lovers. And we’re certainly not friends. If anything, we teeter on that line between love and hate.

“Aren’t you going to tell me how long it took you?” he calls out after me.

I stop and face him. “Like you don’t know?”

“How could I? You ditched my guys every time you went in.” He walks to me, and my heart rate picks up. It’s unnerving how tranquil he is when I’m one touch away from combusting.

I shrug nonchalantly as I resist the craving for some kind of physical touch from him. “I prefer exploring on my own.”

“Well, considering we never had to send in a search party, you figured your way out fairly quickly.”

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