Page 38 of The Love You Fight For
“Did it hurt?”
“Not as bad as I thought it would, actually.”
“Huh.” I glance up at him through my lashes. “Can I touch it?”
He laughs.
“By all means.”
Gently, I run my fingers over the silver metal bar, and his abdominals flex. I press a little harder, feeling where the metal goes through the shaft of his cock, and he hisses. I snatch my hand back.
“Did I hurt you?” I ask quickly, and he grabs my hand while shaking his head.
“It doesn’t hurt.” He puts my hand around his dick and applies pressure, so I’m squeezing him. “Like that. Pulse it.It feels good.”
I look up into his face as I do it, growing bolder with each flash of heat in his eyes. I run my hand up and down him, then rub my thumb on the underside of his head, making him groan.
Then I dip low and take him into my mouth.
When I run my tongue along the ridge of his head, his hand clamps into the hair at the back of my skull. When I do it again, he tugs harder, and I whimper around him.
“Don’t do that, baby,” he warns.
So I do it again, and he groans.
I drag my tongue down his shaft, paying special attention to his piercing. He murmurs encouragements. Whispers compliments that feel genuine despite the fact that I have his cock in my mouth.
I reach up and palm him, massaging his sack as I lick and suck his dick. I haven’t taken him down my throat. Admittedly, I’m a little scared to with the piercing, but I want to make this good for him. I get high on the way he moans and tightens his grip on my hair. I get high on all of it.
When he tries to pull me off him, I resist.
“You keep working me like that, and I’ll come in your mouth, princess.”
I hum around his head, using one hand to pulse the base of his shaft and the other to massage beneath. I want him to come. I want to taste him. I want to know I did it to him.
“If you don’t want me to come down your throat, you need to stop,” he forces out, his voice almost pained.
In response, I grow more enthusiastic, and when I hum around him again, he mumbles a warning just before he shoots his release into me with a groan.
I take it all and swallow it, and I fucking preen under his appreciative gaze.
“Fuck me.” He drops to his knees and takes my mouth. “Fuck, you’re so sexy. Such a sexy, filthy fucking princess.”
I smile, and then I stifle a yawn, suddenly exhausted. Chris presses a kiss to my forehead, then tugs me to standing and leads me by the hand to his bedroom. I clean myself off in the bathroom, wetake turns brushing our teeth, then I crawl into his bed, curl up like a sated kitten, and fall fast asleep.
When I wake,the bed is empty and the clock on Chris’s nightstand says 9:30 a.m.
I never sleep this late, but we were up until three, so I guess I needed the rest. I’m not sure when Chris left, but I remember him saying he needed to go to The Outpost first thing. I stretch in his soft bedsheets and smile to myself that he let me sleep instead of kicking me out.
When I sit up and reach for my phone, I find a torn piece of notebook paper on top of it. There’s ink-scribbled script on it, and as I read it, my smile grows.
I dig through his drawers and find a pair of joggers and a T-shirt, then steal a pair of slides from the closet since my pajama top is bourbon-soaked and my slippers are ruined. I smile the entire time I get dressed, and right before I leave, I put on a fresh coat of lipstick and press a red kiss to the wordhellfire. I leave the note on his pillowcase and skip out the front door to make my walk of shame across townback to my cave.
The whole way, I replay the night over and over. Every memory making me flush with heat and smile to myself. In all of the nights I spent wondering what it would have been like, I never considered this.
I get to my apartment and check my email. Three from Ashton, all with degrading tasks. I close out of all of them without responding.
It’s the weekend, so fuck him.
