Page 62 of Wicked Spite
I feel spurt after spurt leave me and right before the end is near; I pull out and watch the last two torrents stream out and across her pale, peachy ass.
Pushing her back to her hands and knees, I rest my half-hard dick between her ass cheeks and thrust just so I can feel my balls slap against her pussy and clit.
I pull the mask up and rest it on my head, and then open my mouth. I let spit fall out until it mixes with the cum on her backside and then I rub it right across the bloody handprint.
Reagan turns her head, her eyes catching mine full of disgust and fascination. “You’re so fucking unsanitary,” she breathes out.
I laugh, an echoing sound that reverberates through the stillness of the woods. She’s right, but that’s hardly a deterrent. “Oh, come on, wifey,” I lean in close, my breath hot against her ear. “You know you fucking get off on this just as much as I do.”
Her lips part slightly, as if she wants to protest but can’t find the strength or the will to lie. I tighten my grip on her hips and thrust one last time between her cheeks, making sure she feels every inch before I finally collapse into the dirt, pulling her naked, used body on top ofmine.
She leans down slowly, the look in her eyes shifting from defiance to something almost tender. As she reaches out to finger the edge of my Ghostface mask, a smirk plays on her lips.
She dips her head lower until her lips hover just over mine.
“You’re sick,” she whispers.
“And you’re hooked,” I reply, equally quiet but no less intense.
She closes the gap between us, kissing me with a ferocity I didn’t expect unless we’re arguing or fucking.
Her fingers press into the mask before they slide back into my hair, yanking hard enough to hurt but fuck if it doesn’t make me want her more. My hands travel up her back as I grip her hips tight enough to leave marks—proof that she’s mine as much as I’m hers.
Reagan breaks the kiss first, panting against my mouth. “Goddamn you,” she swears softly.
I laugh again, softer this time, but no less unhinged. “Too late for that,” I murmur laughing at the red marks my beard left on her face.
Chapter 22
Reagan
The woods seem to be alive with the sound of our ragged breaths, heavy and labored as we come down from the dizzying high of fucking. I lie on the forest floor, my back pressed against the damp earth, still feeling the tingling warmth of Penn’s touch. The taste of his lips lingers on mine, the intensity of our connection still crackling like electricity in the air.
“Shit, hellfire,” Penn murmurs, a grin playing at the corners of his mouth. “That was...”
“Choose your words carefully if you ever want to do that again,” I reply, my voice barely a whisper as I catch my breath. I can’t help but smirk; it’s not every day someone matches my wild streak so perfectly. But then again, Penn Blackwood isn’t just anyone.
Penn props himself up on one elbow, his other hand idly tracing patterns on my bare hip. I roll my eyes at him but can’t suppress the unease prickling at the back of my neck. These woods are giving me the creeps, like they’re alive and breathing, watching and waiting.
“I was only kidding earlier about the hills having eyes. But seriously, it feels like we’re being watched out here,” I mutter, shoving his chest to get off me. I’m ready to go because these trees are creepy as shit.
“Didn’t you know, Reagan? We’re borderline in the woods surrounding the ever-so-charming town of Wraithwick. Rumor has it this is where the living and the dead cross paths. Spooky, isn’t it? You think they got off watching what I did to you?”
I snort out a laugh, shoving him away again. “You’re so full of shit.”
He just stares at me and shrugs. He didn’t rise to the bait, which is so unlike him.
I watch him closely as he reaches into his pocket, seemingly lost in thought. His fingers find the Blackwood ring that usually adorns his right hand. He holds it up between us with a mischievous glint in his eyes. My curiosity is piqued as he retrieves a lighter from his pocket, flicking it to life with practiced ease.
“Whatcha got there, husband?” I tease, propping myself up on one elbow, regarding him with amusement.
“Something special for you, dearest.” Sarcasm drips from his words, but there’s an undercurrent of darkness that makes my heart race. Penn holds the ring above the flame, letting the metal heat up gradually. As the orange glow reflects off his face, I can’t help but notice how it emphasizes the shadows lurking beneath his charming exterior. He wanted to creep me out about the living and dead, and the whole time I have my very own devil right here.
“Care to let me in on your little secret?” I ask, trying to keep my tone light, but I can feel anxiety beginning to gnaw at the edges of myconfidence.
“Patience,” he chides, a wicked smile spreading across his face. “You love that I’m unpredictable. That’s why you let me do what I just did,” he whispers, his eyes locked on mine, daring me to run away from him.
My heart flutters in my chest as Penn watches me intently, his intentions becoming clearer with every passing moment. The heat emanating from the ring he holds seems to invade my very core, sending a shiver up my spine despite the warmth of our surroundings.
