Page 38 of Blaze
I grip her ass with one hand, and with the other, I ease in two fingers into her slick channel. It earns me another moan as she bucks up, desperate for more.
“Please,” she cries out as I release her clit before she can come.
With a wicked grin, I shift my hand enough to press my thumb hard against her tight hole. I pump my fingers into her pussy, increasing the pressure on her other hole until my thumb slips in. The moment it does, I attack her clit, sucking and licking. In moments, she’s shattering underneath me.
I lap at her pussy, easing my fingers from her and letting her sink back onto my bed. Fuck. I can’t get enough of this woman. When she finally pushes my head weakly, I press a tender kiss to the inside of her thigh before crawling up her body and lying beside her. She’s boneless and humming with pleasure as I tuck her against my side, pride and satisfaction coursing through me.
I don’t even care that my dick is hard in my pants. If that isn’t a sign of how fucked I am, I don’t know what is.
The late morning light leaks in through the curtains, giving me more than enough light to see Kennedy. When I came in, cups of coffee in both hands, to wake her up, I’d been stopped in my tracks by the sight of her in my bed. Her dark hair was fanned out over my pillow as she lay curled on her side. The sheet was tucked up in her adorable fists under her chin but in her sleep, it’d slipped down enough to reveal the sensuous line of her back. It taunted me by covering her ass and the rest of her legs except for the adorable toes of one foot. When had I ever thought a woman’s toes were fucking adorable?
She’s a burst of goodness and light in my thrice-damned life. Every smile, every kiss, batters some of the ash and brittle darkness from my tattered soul. Kennedy will be the end of me, and fuck if I’m not eager for it.
I’d set the coffee cups down on my dresser—something that’s more tidy now thanks to her—and eased into bed with her. I’d kissed my way down her spine, running my lips down her body all the way to her little toes. She’d hummed happily when I kissed each digit, and I’d wanted to thank and curse Lacy for doing pedicures with Kennedy. The red velvet color too perfect to resist. Then I’d made my way back up her legs, determined to turn Kennedy’s soft sighs into full-throated moans.
“What time is it?” Kennedy asks now, her voice rough with sleep and pleasure. Her hand slips under my shirt to idly stroke my stomach.
My useless heart shudders again, more darkness falling off like dust. Casual, intimate touch is new to me. Since taking on my human form after escaping the Underworld, my relationships with women have consisted of fucking and leaving. There was none of this lingering in bed together, no soft touches to feel one another, no pressing need to just see her face. And, back when I was still in the Underworld, under my damn father’s rule, the demoness he’d chosen for me hadn’t even know the concept of gentleness.
I press a kiss to the top of Kennedy’s head, breathing in her scent. “Almost noon,” I answer. “I brought coffee.”
“Noon?” Kennedy bolts upright, not caring that she’s baring her chest to me, the sheet somewhere down by our feet now. “Why didn’t you wake me up earlier? I have to be at The Styx at 12:30.”
“Relax,” I say, reaching for her, but she blows a raspberry at me and scrambles off the bed, rushing towards my bathroom. I laugh, shaking my head, and haul myself off the bed and retrieve the coffee mugs. I follow her into the bathroom, where she’s already got the shower going and is stepping in.
I set one mug on the sink vanity before leaning against the wall to drink my own.
A week ago, the Santi Pastori and their Light Justicar compatriots left their city and traveled west. They stopped two states over, heading into a compound. They haven’t come out since. We’re not lucky enough for the Light Justicars to have killed Enzo and his men. Reaper has been on edge, we all are. Especially Kennedy.
I could try to argue that I’ve been trying to keep Kennedy distracted by fucking her every chance I get, but even if it started out like that, it’s not the whole truth. The truth is right there in front of me, taking a fast shower and grumbling about how I kept her up all night.
I grin into my cup. “Do you want me to apologize for giving you all those orgasms last night?” I ask before taking a drink.
“It’s not fair you’re so sexy,” she huffs out, sounding almost irritated. She shuts off the water and yanks back the shower curtain, a glare in her eyes. “Towel. Please.”
I snag the towel off the rack and hold it out to her. I’m tempted to refuse and offer to lick off every drop of water. My cock is in full support of the plan. But, no matter what my brothers think, I am in fact capable of self-restraint. Kennedy isn’t the only one who has things to do today.
“Any updates?” she asks offhandedly before roughly toweling her hair dry.
“No movement. And, yeah, we’re sure we haven’t missed them.”
She sighs, wrapping the towel around her body. I set my cup down and tug her to stand in front of me before wrapping my arms around her. She drops her forehead onto my chest. With her in my arms like this, I’m reminded how much smaller she is than me.
“It’s shitty, I know,” I tell her, hugging her tight. Kennedy isn’t fragile; she couldn’t be with what she’s done to escape her husband and stay alive. She feels vulnerable, though, like she’s the kitten I call her. And I’m the vicious dog that can snap her in half with a single bite. Instead of that, though, I stand over her, ready to take on the pack of dogs coming for her.
I hated it when my father implied I was nothing more than a guard dog until he deemed to say otherwise. It was just another way he chained me down until Reaper gave me a way out.
For Kennedy, it’s a damn honor to be her guard dog—whether she wants one or not.
I think of a way to distract her. “Want to know why I call you kitten?”
She groans. “I hate that name,” she complains into my chest.
I snort with amusement and run my hands up and down her back. “It’s because you’re fucking adorable, but you’ve got sharp claws and are quick to strike. I like it.”
Kennedy is quiet for a long moment before starting to gently hit her forehead against my pec. “Why do you have to be so—so, ugh.” She cuts herself off. She steps back and sends me a wry grin before making a shooing motion with her hand. “Leave or I’m actually going to be late.”
It’s not as convincing of an argument as she wants, but rather than giving into the unending need to have her, I swipe up my coffee with one hand and turn to leave her be. Unable to resist, though, I give her ass a swat before I step through the bathroom door.
