Page 68 of Resist Me Not
Trey presses down on my wrist like a silent command for me to keep it there, so I do. Then he drags my jeans down, my underwear down, and devours me until my tip tickles his tonsils.
Fuck!
I don’t even know how, because it should be impossible for me to be hard right now, but I pulse so thick so quickly in his mouth, I moan louder than I probably should have screamed. I should be screaming.
I just killed someone.
But even with Trey between my legs, sucking like he could swallow all the remaining guilt I feel for what I did, I can’t see the detective from this angle, and I’m glad. I am so glad. I don’t want to feel that guilt. I surrender to Trey’s ravenous need to reward me, to thank me for what I did, and let my head loll back.
FIRST DO NO HARM stares back at me.
I don’t know what that means anymore.
I don’t know anything anymore other than that I don’t want Trey to stop.
He has never swallowed me this deeply before. The faint almost not-there grazes of his teeth where I am thickest at my base. The little tongue flicks at the vein pulsing on my underside. The warmth of his mouth and throat as he hollows his cheeks. The hungry hums he keeps offering me like benediction. The pure absolute hellfire in his eyes watching me when my eyes drift back to him.
“Trey, I… I-I’m going to—”
“Not yet,” he growls.
I mewl at the sudden loss of him, feeling an incessant impatience to just come, to feel that wonderful flood of dopamine and serotonin that can wash everything else away.
My eyes have just enough time to find the detective’s body again as Trey moves to the kitchen cabinets to grab my bottle of avocado oil.
There is so much more blood than before…
“I’ve got you,” Trey says, drawing my attention back to him with a gentle tug on my chin. It has to be true. It has to be. Itmustbe. Trey has me because I am still not panicking.
I marvel at that so much as it dawns on me that I almost miss watching Trey shuck his own pants and underwear down and slather himself with the oil. As nice of a view as that is, I focus more on his eyes. They’ve never looked so purely black as they do right now. Not hellfire anymore, because none of the nearby lights around us are at the right angle to shimmer there with him hovering over me. With his attention only on me, no light shines in his eyes at all, his pupils and irises blending together so all I can see is the dark—and myself reflected in their perfect, black pools.
Trey bites his lip, tip at my entrance, but waits, like he has only just realized something and forces himself to hold steady. “I can grab some protection.”
I blink at him because the first thing my addled brain thinks is—the knife?
Then I laugh because a condom was the furthest thing from my mind.
We have been through the hard talk of pasts and partners and being safe. Of course that was before I knew he was a serial killer and “protection” around Trey can mean so many other things. But if we are going to be each other’s and only each other’s from here on out, and I know we are, there’s no need.
That he stillaskedwhen this eager for me makes me want nothing more than to kiss him.
“Fuck me, Daddy,” I plead and drag him down by the collar of his shirt.
Trey spears me with his cock in the same instant that I spear into his mouth with my tongue. I want to devour him, for him to devour me. I want to lose myself in Trey’s embrace, his safeharbor, and finally just be free of everything that has ever made me lose my breath.
I don’t know how I’m breathing easier, heartrate steadying too, while being fucked on my kitchen island, bloody murder weapon only a small reach away, mouth sealed with Trey’s in a greedy kiss, but I am. I am. And when I do finally pause for more breath, mostly to moan as Trey slams into me again and again, it’s not even with a gasp. He really does take care of me. He really does make everything better, and I never want to lose that.
Even if it means I’ve lost my mind to think this way.
Like always, aside from knowing exactly what edges and corners of me to reach with each thrust, Trey also knows what I’m thinking and what I need to hear.
“You did it… for me,” he grunts, taking my hand where he left it pinned to the countertop and lacing his fingers with mine. “You did it… because you had to.” His other hand reaches between us to grip my cock. “You did it… because youwantedto.”
Yes…
“AndI love youso much for that, my good boy.”
My eyes lock with Trey’s as my hips stutter, and I come into his hand.
