His thumb moves to my lower lip and pries it open, sliding the tip inside. “I’ll have to find a better use for this skilled tongue of yours if you refuse to talk to me.”
“Is that supposed to be a threat? You know bloody well I love to make your dick weep for me.” That makes him growl. Bez is back.
“Tell me, Little Wasp, and I’ll fuck your face hard and rough, just the way you like it.” He speaks like that would be a selfless act for him. He’s lucky I actually love his dick.
I came five minutes ago, but I can feel my balls getting full again. Fuck, it’s not fair. I’m a slut for them, and they know it and use it against me every chance they get. Mastermind wankers.
“It’s…about Gran’s home,” I whisper. He blinks, and I see a hint of affection in Gabe’s eyes.
“I couldn’t set a foot inside her house since she died. And when we went there two weeks ago, it felt surreal. Like time stilled among those four walls. It stayed just the way she left it, downto the open book on the table and the tea kettle on the stove. It was fucking painful not to hear her voice when I passed the threshold, agonizingly so, which made me realize that I will never be able to live there again.” My voice breaks, and suddenly my watery eyes find Gabe’s collarbone very interesting.
I miss so many things about her. Things that are lost forever.
He moves his hand into my hair as he pushes my face against his neck. The warmth of his body is familiar and so damn comforting. I can feel their love slowly penetrating my skin, reaching my heart to fill all the cracks.
“You don’t need to, Lori. We have this apartment, and if you want a different place, we can move.”
I let a small smile brush against his skin. “I don’t want to move. I love this apartment. Wednesday would be heartbroken.” Gabe even built a coop for my hen on the large balcony with a little house and a net to avoid a jump to certain death.
“Then why is she trying to destroy it?” He’s talking about all the holes and scratches she leaves around the apartment.
“It’s her way to express her…fondness.” I look up at him.
“Your face is lighting up with that impish glee… You’re actually proud when she makes a mess.”
“Only because it's fun to see your reaction.” I give his lips a rewarding peck, he always cheers me up, and he does it without even trying. His sole presence and his obsession with knowing everything that’s going on with me make me feel cherished and wanted. It makes my heart warm and my body melt.
“I love you.” I sigh contently. “And I-I know what to do with Gran’s house.”
“What, my love?” he drawls. I’m his love.Me.Hearing him say it turns my limbs into butter.
“You’ll see, but for now, I need to fix this curse matter,” I grumble.
“You aren’t cursed. It’s just a chain of unlucky events.”
I push against his chest and scramble to my knees. “Fuck no! I’m no Wile E. Coyote. I’m cursed!”
“You’re using a pop-culture reference to prove your absurd point.”
I ignore his judgmental tone and count on my fingers the maggots’unluckyevents. “Speargun to the face, electrocution, reindeer attack, death by candy and murderous floor. My life is not a cartoon; it’s a sexy, gory movie. I want to see the blood dripping and the maggots suffering.”
Bez huffs.
“Oh, I’m sorry, am I bothering you with the tragedies of my life?” I clip. My teeth snap at him as I shoot him a look that tells him I’m not sorry at all.
“Self-pity is unbecoming on you,” Gabe’s low, mellifluous voice is dipped in haughtiness. Even his position—one hand behind his head, putting on display his superb, lickable torso, the other scratching his lower abdomen—exudes attention and command.
“Do you feel compelled to listallmy flawsallthe time?” I hiss. If I punch him with my right hand, my engagement ring will probably leave an imprint on his annoyingly gorgeous face. Likemymark of possession. That’s a nice image.
“Yes. It’s like the itch I get when I don’t kill donors,” he deadpans.
“You mean the itchImake disappear with my mere splendid presence?” I give him a self-contented smirk.
“Lori?”
“Yeeees?” I bat my eyes at him.
“I feel itchy all over now.”
