Page 66 of Dolls & Daggers
My chuckle ghosts over her wet, swollen flesh before I give in—not because she threatened me, I know she loves my cock too much to ever remove it from my body, but because I’m close.
Tooclose.
And fuck—I come.
Hard.
My dick jerks in its confines as Dove’s thighs clamp around my neck tightly when she comes. I’m sure she intends to suffocate me as a form of punishment.
Littledoes she know, I’ll gladly die from asphyxiation with her release on my tongue and her flesh in my mouth.
No, wait. That makes me sound like a cannibal.
Dove’s giggle pulls me from my spiraling thoughts as they return to the day I ate Fang’s jerky. “Fuck, Songbird, you’re really getting better attongue-vincingme to do things.”
A flicker of hope ignites in my chest as I lower her, helping her down until her feet touch the ground. She hums appreciatively, licking her lips before curling the bottom one between her teeth as she trails a teasing finger over the wet spot on my shorts.
“Why is it so hot that you came while fully clothed?”
“So I can come with you?” I divert, my voice filled with so much hope and desperation it makes me sound like a naive juvenile.
She smirks. “No, Songbird.” She guides me back to the chair I occupied earlier, settling herself with a knee on either side of my waist as she straddles me, raking her nails through my hair. Neither of us cares that it makes an even bigger mess of my shorts. "When will you learn that you can't make me do what you want just because you know how to play my pussy as well as you play pool?"
“Iama pool shark,” I murmur against her lips.She giggles, kissing me, taking her time as she tastes herself on me before seeking entrance with her tongue. I like kissing her this way, but she’s still respectful every time, always ensuring I’m comfortable.
We still haven’t discussed my mother—or what Dove thinks she knows. I suspect she’s waiting for me to bring it up, and I will, eventually, be ready to tell her everything.
Like how I’m finally seeing the light at the end of the dark tunnel I’ve been trapped in for years. Just months ago, I wouldn’t have even entertained the idea of confronting my mother, let alone seeking the closure I so desperately need.
But seeing Dove’s strength up close—watching her shape her past into something that saves others—it’s empowering. My girl is inspiring.
When we part, she graces me with a vulpine smile. “Will you wait for me?Naked. In my bed.”
“Why don’t you break into my place instead? Take advantage of me while wearing your mask. Make all my fantasies of your alter ego come true."
I grin as her face falls comically.
“Only you could make me jealous of my serial killer self, Songbird,” she deadpans.
“It’s not cheating, Turtle Dove.” I nuzzle her with my nose, grasping her wrists and holding them behindher back when she tries to get up. “You’re the same person.”
“Yeah, okay,Ross,” she pitches her voice higher and mocks, "We were on a break!"
“I don’t… know what that means?” I release her as I stupidly try to recall where I’ve heard that before.
She giggles, the sound ringing through the room as she heads toward the bathroom. “Guess we have a new show to watch, Songbird.” She winks over her shoulder before disappearing down the hall. “AnotherfirstI get to give you.”
At her possessive tone, warmth spreads through my chest. I release a lovesick sigh, tracking her backside with a dreamy gaze until she vanishes from view. “Sounds good to me, Turtle Dove.”
I watchas the tiny dot representing Dove continues traveling northwest. At least I know she hasn’t been smoking those disgusting little cigars, because she still hasn’t found the tracker I stuck to her Zippo.
While both those facts comfort me, my nerves are fraying as she gets further and further from the city. She can’t have left more than thirty minutes ago, and with each passing second, my resolve to stay put weakens.
Hunter slides another beer in front of me before dropping onto the stool beside mine, snorting. "Can you believe this guy?” He gestures with the neck of his bottle toward where Bunny sits across the bar, deep in conversation with her date. “What, did Dove dress him?”
I huff a laugh, setting my phone screen down and taking a pull from my drink. The guy in question is wearing a salmon-colored button-up, his long, sandy-colored hair tied up in a bun secured with what looks like a pastel pink scrunchie.
He doesn’t seem like Bunny’s type, yet I think this is the happiest I’ve ever seen her. They talk animatedly, completely absorbed in each other, while Hunter continues his futile attempt to incinerate the guy with sheer force of will.
