Page 41 of Along for the Ride

She shakes her head but scoops her pelvis closer to my face. I help her out of her jeans, throwing them aside. I don’t normally go down on women, and I can’t say I’ve ever wanted to be in this inferior position, but she’s fighting me on it. By taking it, I’m still superior. In control. The moment I put my tongue on this girl, she’ll melt into me and become a taste I would kill for.

I blow a warm breath on her slit and swipe my tongue through her. She shudders, falling forward to grip my shoulders for support. She curls her hips to give me more access to her pretty little pussy, showing me how badly she wants my mouth to devour her.

But I want to hear her say it.

“Tell me you want to come on a killer’s face,” I say.

She closes her eyes and leans her head against the wall. I fucking love her internal struggle. I can feel it. Her pussy wants one thing, but her mind tells her it’s wrong. She should listen to her mind, but if she wants to feel good, she’ll spread her legs a little wider and let me devour her until she comes on my face.

I put my hand on her clit, and her excited pulse throbs against my touch. The twitch of desire.

Her shoulders drop. “I want to come on your face.”

I smirk. “That’s not what I want to hear.” I pull my hand away and blow another hot breath on her swollen clit. “Tell me.”

“I want to come...on a killer’s face.” Shame drips from her words, and I guzzle it down.

With a rough grasp on her inner thighs, I spread her lips. Her body trembles with anticipation, and I’ve hardly touched her. I can’t wait another moment to feel the explosion of pleasure against my mouth when I finally lick her, so I dip my tongue inside her pussy and put my mouth around her clit. I tongue the most sensitive part of her with quick lashings that turn her trembles to shudders.

“Fuck,” she groans, as her hands grip my hair.

I lick her harder, faster, eating her until her thighs clench together and she ends up riding my face.

“You’re...fucking...evil.” She pants each word with every forward rock of her hips.

I pull away, eliciting a frustrated growl from her. “And yet you ride my face like I’m a saint.”

I bury myself in her pussy once more and lick her until her clit twitches with a strong pulse against my tongue. With a long, thorough lick, I gather every ounce of wetness I brought out of her. I stand up, look down at this vulnerable, satiated girl, and drag my thumb across her bottom lip.

“Open your mouth, wanderer. I want you to taste yourself. I want you to swallow what I’ve done to you.”

She spreads her lips as if she expects my fingers to slip inside her mouth, but I tip her chin, ball up my spit and her come, and drip it into her waiting mouth.

I expect her to spit it out, but she doesn’t. “Good girl. Now swallow.”

Her throat bobs as she takes every drop. When her tongue flicks out to catch the bit that slipped onto her lip, I almost want to drop to my knees and worship her pussy again.

But I won’t. Not tonight.

“Go get cleaned up, and let’s get some sleep,” I say. “We have a lot of driving to do tomorrow.”

As she showers, I lie in bed and try to think of anything aside from the increasing risk we’re taking by keeping her with us. But I can’t let her go. As long as Karson keeps his mouth shut—and as long as our piss-poor snuff film works—I can only hope that George won’t be a problem for her anymore.

When she climbs into bed after her shower, she doesn’t put any space between us. She snuggles up to me, throws her leg over my thigh, and presses her pussy against my leg. My favorite sleeping position. I listen as each breath slows to a drowsy cadence, and when I’m sure she’s asleep, I cut off the lamp beside the bed.

“I fantasize about killing the man who sexually assaulted me throughout my childhood,” she whispers, and her voice nearly makes me jump.

What she says enrages me. There aren’t many lines a man like me won’t cross, but nobody should fuck with a kid. Knowing she was assaulted by someone sick enough to cross that boundary...There are no words to describe the anger I feel.

“Who?” I ask.

She doesn’t speak for a long time, but when she finally does, her voice is almost a whimper. “My stepfather.”

She hasn’t given me a name, but I’ll get it out of her eventually. And when I do, we’ll make her fantasy a reality.

ChapterEighteen

Leana

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