Page 72 of Thief

“God, you fit so well around me…” John groaned as his dick swelled inside her. “But I want to come in your pussy, I want to come around those sweet, hot girly muscles that beg for me, that crave me, that want me to stay.”

Kat flung her head to the side, her muscles contracting and releasing every object invading her.

The vibrator switched off.

Silence except for the hungry panting of two sets of lungs.

He pulled the toy out, dropped her legs from his shoulders and moved swiftly off the bed.

“Where are you going?” Kat whimpered, still in a state of ecstasy.

She sensed him leave the room.

“John,” she cried desperately. Surely he wasn’t leaving her now.

She strained her ears and heard water running in the bathroom.

Then he was back, the scent of soap mixed with the scent of their sex.

Kat sighed as he settled between her legs into missionary and slipped his damp cock into her vagina like the perfect jigsaw puzzle, thick and hot, so much better than the artificialness of the vibrator. His hard body landed on her still pulsating clit, and she instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist to pull him deeper.

“Hang on, baby, let me untie you.”

His full weight crushed her for several seconds. She barely had enough oxygen circulating anyway, and it sent those crazy ants racing through her brain, delighting in her hypoxia.

He loosened the fraught knots, then carefully lifted her arms over her head.

“Shit,” he said, quickly pushing onto his elbows. “Breathe, will you, Pussy Cat? You’re using your lives up too damn quick this week.”

She pulled in a breath and looked at him, eyes dazed and glassy. “John,” she groaned. “I think I’ve got stuck on a permanent orgasm.” Her pelvic muscles were still shuddered, seizing John’s cock, carrying on of their own accord, relentless, in another world, another level of space and time.

“It sure feels like it,” he moaned into her open mouth.

Then he kissed her softly and sweetly. He licked her teeth, the tip of her tongue and the inside of her lips. And while he invaded her mouth, his rich, hot semen poured into her, wave after wave, flowing straight into her womb and swept up all the more efficiently by her sublimely powerful, extended orgasm.

Gradually, her convulsions stopped, the pressure eased, and they became small judders, the gaps between each one lengthening from micro seconds to whole seconds to several seconds.

John murmured something in a foreign language.

Eventually, he slipped out of her, rolled to his side and cradled her against his hot chest. She tucked her head under his chin and another string of foreign words spilled over her. She didn’t know what he was saying in his post-coital moment of bliss, but it sure sounded like it was coming from the heart, and it poured straight into hers.

Chapter Ten

Dear Broken Soldier,

There’s so much to say, though as you know, I suffer from gross ineloquence. I thought for one tiny blink of time that maybe I would overcome this emotional dyslexia.

That thought was so brief it barely existed. It seeped into my head when your arms encased me and your heart beat against my cheek. It was the first time I’d ever felt safe, like I belonged. I know I’ll never feel it again, though this fact doesn’t scare me—what else is there to fear after love and treachery?

Awful things happened, greed, deception, jealousy. Innocents were hurt; we cannot deny that truth. We did it. We caused their pain. I did it for material gain, yet all along, the one thing I truly needed—if only I had known—was nothing I could steal with my light fingers. It was something which needed to be given freely—something you gave without me ever forming a devious plan. You gave me your heart, trusted the true me when no one else had, and I, being me, shattered that trust into a million tiny pieces when I saw those gems cradled in my palm.

It was a path of self-destruction I had no choice but to travel. I accept my guilt. I am who I am. I would do the same again. I would not be able to help it. Breaking things before they break me is the easiest way—it gives me control over when it’s going to happen.

But I ask just one thing of you now, in that moment before you wake from your tormented slumber, because I know that’s all it ever is, in those few seconds between dreaming and consciousness, if you think of me then, please, I beg you, grant me the innocence of a woman who is not bad to the core.

Because I’m yours, and I always will be. I have no capacity to entertain another in my life; there was only ever going to be one person, and that happened to be you. Physically, you’ve gone but the void was filled. For a thin slice of time, the door was open; now, it’s shut but full of memories, images and feelings, piled high with what once was.

You took my heart, you took my soul. At least someone did in this solitary existence I have been dealt.

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