Page 64 of Malice
The look that crossed his face was a mixture of peace and euphoria as my words hit and his orgasm followed. He groaned my name, his hips losing their rhythm as he came deep inside me. His pleasure took me along for the ride, setting off my own climax, but this time it was different. There was something new that floated in the hazy aftermath of our shared release. It was hard to pinpoint it, but there was no denying therightnessof this moment. I was sated. I was content. I was... whole.
Like for once in my life, I was exactly where I was supposed to be. Andwithexactly who I was supposed to be. I didn’t have the words to describe it other than that. But I knew Sin was feeling it too. I could see my wonder reflected in his warm gaze.
He tucked a stray lock of my hair behind my ear before sighing happily. “It’s never been like this with anyone before. Every time we’re together, this feeling just gets stronger.”
I couldn’t deny he was right. Exciting as it was, I’d spent so much of my life trying to keep myself from losing someone I cared about. That niggle of fear I tried to bury worked its way to the surface.
“I know. I feel it too,” I finally said.
He kissed me again. When I opened my eyes, I was in my bed—alone.
Well, not completely alone.
It took a couple of tries to get my eyes to focus in the darkness. It was morning, but only just as the light from the rising sun barely made a dent in the shadows. Even so, I could make out a familiar masculine shape. A place where the shadows were so dark they were impenetrable. As I got to my feet, the form vanished, and the light in the corner where he’d been standing guard changed. He was gone, but I knew now. Daddy Death had been keeping watch.
The question was . . . why?
Chapter
Seventeen
MALICE
Icouldn’t get Merri off my mind. Not since I finally broke and fucked her like a man possessed. I’ve been at least half-hard all day, every day. Nothing eased the ache. Not plotting world domination. Not working on the security of the estate. Not running until my muscles throbbed and my brain was mostly quiet. Not even cold fucking showers.
I was so tired of cold showers.
Sweat coated my skin, soaking through my shirt and causing a chill to pass through me as I finished yet another punishing workout. My shirt fell to the tile floor of my en suite bathroom with a disgusting plop. I needed to wash the day off my body, and hopefully the water would take some of this infernal yearning down the drain with it.
I did notyearn.
Liar.
That crooning voice inside my head could fuck all the way off. A man was allowed to have his delusions. It’s called coping.
With a frustrated groan, I turned the cold water all the way up, ignoring the second knob completely. There was only one way to deal with a mess like this. And by mess, I meantmy feelings—shudder—for Merri. I had to purify myself. Trial by fire, but in this case, the purifying flames were actually icy rivulets.
Everything in my body protested the thought. It wanted nothing to do with standing in a frigid downpour. No matter what people claimed about the healing benefits. But it did serve to kill my erections—at least momentarily.
Seriously, was there anything worse than a cold shower? I don’t know what the Vikings were smoking when they decided cold plunges were the wave of the future. Pretty sure it was a practical joke, but everyone was too ashamed to admit how much they hated it, so voilà, history was rewritten, and it was instead considered rejuvenating, and into the icy depths the rest of them went forevermore.
Can you feel my eye roll? Seriously, I think one of my eyes is stuck. Utter shite, the lot of it.
Taking a few steady breaths in preparation, I steeled myself for the shock of the cold, then stepped under the spray.
“Bloody hell, this is a load of complete bollocks,” I gritted out as the water needled my chest and trickled down to my crotch.
Closing my eyes, I attempted to let the temperature do its worst, but instead I was greeted with vivid memories of Merri taking me into her body. Why couldn’t I simply free myself of the sickness of wanting her? That’s what this was. A virus that infected me and was ravaging my body, working its way to my heart. If it reached that vital organ, I didn’t know what would happen.
I turned my back to the showerhead and braced both palms on the wall, hanging my head as I tried to will her from my thoughts. It didn’t work. I don’t know why I thought it would when nothing else did.
There was no purging myself of this...infestation.
“Damn you,” I growled, though whether the words were for Merri or the reappearance of this incessant fucking erection, I wasn’t sure.
Reaching between my legs, I palmed the swollen length and squeezed the base. What was I hoping for? Not the bolt of pleasure that raced up my spine. Nor the echo of Merri’s hitched breath when I filled her that first time.
I allowed my hand to shuttle along my cock, the soft scrape of my palm a sorry imitation of Merri’s warmth. But it didn’t seem to matter. All I wanted was more.
