Page 13 of The Dead Don't Talk
A shiver that has nothing to do with the temperature racks down my spine.
Warm? Fingers? In where?
“Ow. What’re you—” Moros pushes me to my side unceremoniously and drapes a heavy arm over my ribs. He’s rough with me, but heat floods my back, my ass, though I’m not going to focus on that part, and the air around us shifts. Heats.
Stills.
For a moment, even the birds seem quieter, and the adrenaline stored in my body begins to fade. It’s almost … peaceful.
“I get why—”
He wasn’t kidding.
Thick digits shove their way between my lips and though I should gag at their presence along my tongue, I don’t. Not even close.
The down-low tingles I felt earlier come back with a vengeance and my eyes slide closed.
I am so, so, so glad he can’t see my face right now.
Pretty sure I’ve gone completely red-faced, my closed eyes attempting to look behind me and possibly through my skull where his shoulder rests, and holyfuck.
I’ve never gotten so hard, so fast in my life.
Mumbling a curse around his fingers just sounds like a fucking moan that has more embarrassment flooding me with warmth. Too much of it. I’m starting to sweat, my lower stomach clenched almost painfully.
“Shh, kitten,” he whispers hotly along my ear and curls around me. From head to heel, I feel him. His legs bending into the backs of mine, his groin meeting my crack.
I fist the blanket to keep from reaching out.
My mouth fills with saliva I refuse to swallow, trails of it leaking down my cheek.
“One more sexy fucking sound and I’m warming my fingers in your ass.”
Ohhhh, shit.
I don’t know what alternate universe I have found myself in, butyes please—
Wait, no.
I don’t want that. I mean, I do! But not like this. Not while on watch. With my trainer. In a fucking treehouse while we wait for Wilson to come back.
Could be any minute!
After waiting so long, I just thought my first time would be … romantic. In a bed. With someone I cared deeply about.
That there’d be like candles or something.
It’s not that I need those things, clearly proven by the growth in my pants, but I’ve dreamt of them. Of having what so few can manage in a world like ours.
Maybe that’s the apocalypse part everyone talks about.
A wave of relief and disappointment rolls over me when his fingers retreat, sliding along my tongue.
The whine that escapes me catches me off guard. And him, too, judging by the sharp inhale, though I don’t think it’s for the same reason he thinks.
I’m horny, sure.
I’d go down on him like I used to for my ex ‘friend’ that wanted me to practice on him.
