Page 141 of Entangled

“Milk my cock, pet. Take it all. I’m going to coat your pretty cunt.”

I explode. The words, his smell, his dick, the ecstatic pleasure tearing through my body from my earlier orgasm, all of it collides in an eclipse so intense that my vision blackens and my body is seared through, clear of any other thought butBeau.

Somewhere, I know he’s using me for his own final, hungry thrusts, but I’m already crashed out and floating among perfect, dazzling stars.

Chapter33

Eden

Survival tip #239

When you hit a high,

ride it.

Idon’t know if it’s seconds, minutes, or hours later when I hear his raw, hungry sounds as he releases. I feel him fill me, coat me with his cum, like he promised. The sensations blend, push this tingling, buoyant euphoria to new heights.

The bed feels good, his hot, wet cum between my legs feels good, my body feelsso good. I wait to come down from my high, but it doesn’t seem to be going anywhere—only settling into something floaty and delicious.

I feel Beau turn my head to the side, and suddenly my lungs are full of sweet, clear air, and I’m not breathing in the hot, rumpled blankets. I giggle helplessly as the air tickles my lungs. And when gooseflesh erupts giddily over my scalp and skin, I giggle at that too. It all feels wonderful, like the room is sparkling with some invisible, happy magic.

“Oh, so it’s like that, is it?” He sounds like himself again now, amused and roughed with pleasure.

His voice makes me happy too, and I rub my cheek into the blankets with a sigh. A warm, wet cloth slides up my thighs. Between my legs. It disappears, then comes back again to towel clean the cleft of my ass.

“’Sgood,” I mumble, all of it shivering over me with sweet, blissed-out tingles.

“I bet,” Beau murmurs with a soft laugh. He gathers my hair, then pulls it all to one side. “I love your hair out like this, pet. It’s so pretty wrapped all around you.”

“Hmm,” I hum contentedly, and he kisses my shoulder.

“Drink this.” He makes me drink water, then more water, like I’m a fish. And the thought of me being hispet, his pet fish, makes me giggle so hard I can’t drink anymore and he takes the water away.

And I don’t know why it’s striking me like this. Vaguely, I know this isn’t usual.

I just don’t really care.

I hear something snap open, then a cool liquid dribbles over my back, quickly chased by wide, warm hands. He pushes the liquid over my skin, then squeezes with his palms, his fingers, rubbing it over my back until I’m moaning softly, helpless and delirious. He rubs over my shoulders, digging into tense muscles and working loose every knot, then down over my arms, my legs.

He flips over my limp body, and I think I’m still smiling, my eyes heavy-lidded as he does my front. I can still see his own soft smile and the glow in his eyes. He’s not stoking me higher with his touch, though everything feels unbearably good. He’s soothing me. Loving me with his hands, his eyes, and suddenly all the emotions in me crest, hard, in a totally unexpected way.

My breath hitches as it crashes in on me, too good, too beautiful and right and safe and?—

I burst into tears.

“There we go.” He drags me into his arms as I cry into his chest. Despite my promise ofno moremere pitiful hours before, I’m sobbing hard. “I’ve got you, darlin’. It’s okay.”

But it’s not. The only thing that’s okay is him, this room, this moment.

With his arms around me, I cry for all my apathy, then my terror, and for my anger. As he strokes my hair, I cry for all the blood on my hands and the person I became to win my freedom. He presses kisses to my temple as I cry for the women and children at the Den who aren’t free, and who might never be, and all the others who might be caught and used if Sam goes unchecked.

He strokes my skin as I cry for my cowardice as I retreated, ready to leave Heather in the dirt. I cry for my brutes dying, for the shock of them being alive, for Heather being Heather after all, and the way Dom is always around her as Beau gently wipes my face. He whispers sweet nothings as I cry for my disgusting, awful lies and the way I’ve sneaked around Dom’s back and disobeyed his orders.

And he wipes my face as I cry for hurting Jayk—for not realizing his expectations were so different from my own. For Lucky and how happy he’s going to be, and how much it’s going to hurt to watch it. For Jasper and what we never were and now certainly will never be.

Mostly, I cry because I still feel dark and sticky and cowardly and full of so muchresidue. My anger is like ashy coals that still sometimes find their old spark, though there’s no place for fire like that at Bristlebrook.

Never again.

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