CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHRISTIAN
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It’s kissing six in the morning when I slip Mira’s door open and edge inside. I know she’s alone; Daniel and I crossed paths the night before as I was leaving the bathroom, and he was leaving Mira.
Not ashamed to admit I’d gone in to pee and stayed to jerk my dick to her pitiful whimpers while her daddy pounded her pussy.
My little brat makes the most hauntingly delicious noises when she’s getting fucked. It makes a man want to stay trapped in her tight cunt for an eternity.
But I’m not there to wake her. Well, not for that. I need to run into Mayfield and I don’t want to leave without telling her.
Fuck if I know why.
It’s not like she’ll notice, maybe. She might and I don’t want her thinking I just left.
Again, fuck if I know why.
We never gave whatever this thing between us is a name so I don’t know the parameters of what to do and not to do. I don’t even know if she wants me to stay after we leave the house. This might just be a fun weekend of experimentation for her, which I’m going to try to respect.
Lies.
I will absolutely not fucking accept weekends and the occasional visit. She’s not a fucking booty call. She’s not some side piece I keep in between relationships. I don’t even want another woman.
Mira or nothing.
She’s fucking mine now.
The second our eyes met that first night, the second Daniel dropped her into my lap — mine.
My brat.
She’s going to be mine for the rest of her life, like it or not.
Too fucking bad if she doesn’t.
She’s the one who crawled under my skin. I didn’t ask her to. I didn’t tell her to get inside my head.
So, if she can invade my life, so can I.
We’ll make it work. We’ll figure it out.
My obsession is still in bed. Pussy bare where her top has bunched up around her waist. Her hair spills in a rich, brown gold across the pillow in loose waves.
She’s on her back, one leg bent, the other straight and twisted up in the sheets. She’s breathing slow and even, face tilted slightly away from me. Faint fingers of soft blue highlight her dusky lashes resting delicately against the smooth curves of her cheeks. Her skin holds the light scent of her roses and sex.
Sex and roses. My new favorite scent.
She’s resting so peacefully. So ... warm and soft. Inviting. I just want to crawl in next to her and pull her into my arms. Nuzzle the back of her neck.
Goddamn it.
Everything. Fucking everything — perfect.
She’s perfect.
I tell my cock to sit down. We’re not here for that as I reach to lightly touch her cheek.
Yup. I’m fucked.
Biting back a groan, I make to touch her again. My mouth opens to call her name when she lets out a tiny huff of air and shifts. Her brows crease, twisting her features into one of distress.
A nightmare, I realize with a prickle of panic. I hadn’t seen how Daniel handled it last time. He held her, which seems easy enough to do or should I get Daniel? Did she want him? Did it matter? I mean, Daniel was the one I went to when I had a nightmare as a kid or when I wet the bed and was too scared to tell anyone in case Dad found out. Daniel always made everything better.
“Christian...”
For a panicked second, I think she’s woken up. But her eyes are still closed, her breathing ragged.
Is she dreaming about me? Doesn’t seem like a good dream when she gives a little grunt and shifts.
Fuck. She’s going to wake Daniel. He’s going to ask me too many questions about why I need to go to Mayfield. Sure, I’m an adult and can go if I want, but he’d get suspicious and ruin the surprise.
Thinking fast, I kick off my shoes and tear off my top and get in next to her.
“Okay, sweetheart.” I pull her into my chest. “I got you. It’s okay.”
Mira doesn’t hesitate sliding her arms around my neck, hooking her leg over my hip. I am very aware of her naked mound pressed firm over my hardening erection.
I ignore it because I’m a gentleman. I keep my hands on the hot arch of her back burning my palm through her top. I rub the trembling lines in soothing strokes.
There is nothing sexual about it — I think. I’m staying above the waist, not letting my hands wander, but Mira shivers. She exhales a quiet puff of air that doesn’t sound like someone being comforted, especially when she follows it up with rub of her pussy up my dick.
Shit.
“Baby?” I whisper, absolutely certain she’s awake.
Her grinding increases. Quickens. Her lips move at my throat, my bobbing Adam’s apple. Tiny kisses that are sending little currents of electricity down my ... everything.
I’m going to hell, but fuck it.
I palm her ass and pull her closer. Her sweet moan echoes through me, urging and hot.
But no! No. Can’t fuck her. Can’t. Not when she’s asleep.
Can I?
No! No, Christian, you fucking can’t. Even your freaky ass can’t cross that line.
But she’s still rubbing herself against me like a lost kitten, making those pathetic mewling sounds that make my cock pulse.
“Okay, sweetheart, I’m going to fix this,” I promise, mind set.
Extracting myself from her hold, I wiggle down her body. My hands shove her top up and I fall on her tits. I nuzzle the mounds with every bit of my new obsession. I suck and lick and tease until she’s thrashing beneath me. Her legs bow wide in invitation and my dick is ready to accept the calling, but I reach down and squeeze the misbehaving appendage until the pain dulls a fraction.
Time and place, asshole.
I mean, technically, I guess this is exactly the time, but it’s not.
I do make my way to the only gateway to heaven I will ever be allowed in and dive in face first. I run my tongue through her wet folds, savoring her delicious release. I invade her hole with firm thrusts that have my brat gasping and clutching my hair.
“Christian?”
My eyes spring open and jump up the plain of her body to where she’s watching me, eyes half lidded with sleep and dark with arousal.
“Hi, sweetheart,” I murmur, replacing my tongue with my fingers.
Mira tightens. Her walls pull me deeper as her fingers tug my face back to her mound.
“Don’t stop. Lick my pussy.”
Fuck!
Never one to deny a lady, I do as I’m told. I lick the shit out of her little cunt. I fill her hole and lick until she’s arching and grinding against me.
“Pants,” she gasps. “Take them off.”
This is definitely not what I came in here for, but I’m on my knees, slick fingers unfastening my jeans. I barely get them down my thighs and Mira’s on me. She’s in my lap, her top gone. Her hand reaching between our bodies to grip my cock. Guiding it to her center.
In a single, hungry thrust, she engulfs my whole dick into the hot cave of her body. She hugs me with her wet walls and rocks. Her snarling hiss of, “God, you feel so good!” rings through my skull as she impales herself over and over again.
It’s desperate. Like she’s trying to fuck something out of her system. I’m not complaining. I’m more than happy to let her use me to get herself off.
I reach between us and cup her breast. My other hand hooks into her hair and I drag her back enough to latch onto a nipple.
Mira sighs and holds my head to her chest as she chases her orgasm. I know it’s close. I can feel the flex and ripple of her velvet core sucking me.
I drop my hand to her lips and find her clit.
Mira grunts. She tightens.
“Christian.”
“I got you, sweetheart. Let go.”
She moans my name again, the sound torn from her chest as she lets her head fall back and cums.
“God, baby, fuck, you feel so fucking good.”
Still shuddering, she lifts her head and captures my mouth. She kisses me hard. Her teeth sink into my lip, drawing blood and she slams her hips over my dick, driving harder and harder.
“Cum in me,” she growls, fisting my hair. “I need to feel you filling my pussy, Christian.”
Fucking damn it!
I cum with a violent explosion that momentarily blinds me. My cock convulses in her greedy cunt, and she sucks up every drop. My little brat whimpers as I fucking drown her.
I hold her long after my dick has slipped out from inside her. I keep her in my lap, her arms and legs bound tightly around me, her face buried against the side of my neck.
“It was you,” she whispers just as I’m beginning to think she’d fallen asleep. “I lost you.”
Something in those broken words punch me in the chest. Maybe it’s the creeping fear, the way she’s sucking in air like she’s trying not to cry, or maybe it’s the fact that she thinks she could ever lose me, but I crush her closer.
“I’m right here.”
“You shouldn’t be.” Cold, shaky fingers run close across the back of my neck. “You should stay away from me.”
I bark a laugh because I don’t even know how I’m supposed to do that at this point. I don’t think it’s even possible anymore. That ship has sailed, hit an iceberg and sunk. No survivors.
“It was a dream, sweetheart,” I try to assure her.
Mira shakes her head. “No. I’m cursed. People I love die. Daniel won’t listen to me, but you still have time.”
I’m shaking my head even before she stops speaking. “Not going to happen.” I pull back enough to capture her damp cheeks between my hands. I wipe the tears and kiss her lips. “You can tell me to leave, but you’re stuck with me. I’ll superglue my dick in your pussy if I have to.”
That may have been going too far.
But Mira’s head jerks back. Her eyes blink, lashes damp butterfly wings surrounding red rimmed eyes. Her cheeks glisten with tears that she swipes slowly with the back of her hands.
“Did you just say you’re going to superglue your dick in my vagina?”
I could lie. Act horrified by such a weird and disturbing notion but fuck it.
“I said what I said.”
She stares at me for so long, I’m ready for her to start screaming for Daniel when she bursts out laughing. Her entire back arches with the fling of her head falling back. The sound rumbles through the room and cascades down my spine.
“What is wrong with you?” she wheezes a few minutes later, wiping tears of laughter from her eyes. She sniffles and fixes her gaze to mine.
I lean in and kiss her.
“You’re not getting rid of me,” I murmur against her mouth. “In fact,” I raise my face just enough to nudge her nose with mine, “every time you mention the curse, leaving me, or being the harbinger of death, I will edge you for five minutes. Mention it five times? That’s twenty-five minutes of pure torture until you’re begging me to fuck you.”
She blinks at me, lips wide in disbelief. “That’s a little harsh.”
I shrug. “So is trying to get rid of me. It’s quite hurtful.”
“I’m not trying to get rid of you!” Her exclamation shakes with the pain I can see reflected in her eyes. “I’m trying to save your life.”
“I don’t give a shit. That shit isn’t real, Mira. You’re not cursed because it’s not real. Shit happens, okay? People die. You are everything to me and Daniel, but you’re not so special that you can cause people to die. You’re not an X-Men . If you do have special death powers, I have a list of people I’d like you to handle for me. We’ll turn your powers into a flourishing murder business.” I take a breath and frame her small, enraged face between my palms. “I’m not going anywhere, brat. Go ahead and try to make me.”
Her glower is beautiful. I prefer her annoyance. I prefer her anger. I would rather she scream and hate me than cry over something that doesn’t exist.
“You’re an asshole,” she mutters.
“Well, sweetheart, I’m your asshole now so...” I kiss the tip of her nose, “deal with it. I’m not going to feed this idea in your head anymore. I’m not going to let you isolate yourself and push people away. You’ve done it for too long and it’s enough. I’m not going to force you to go out and make friends, but I sure as shit am not going to let you push me away. You’re mine.”
The wobble of her chin breaks me. Fresh tears replace the ones I erased with the pad of my thumb.
“What if you’re wrong? What if I hurt you?”
I draw in a breath and shake my head. “I promise that won’t happen.”
Her brows slam together. “You can’t—”
“Oh, but I can. I can guarantee you won’t kill me.” I put my right hand up, not sure that’s the right hand but go with it. “Scouts honor. On my life ... literally.”
She’s searching my face, doubt narrowing her eyes. “How?”
I smirk and let my finger stroke back a strand of hair caught on her damp cheek. I sweep it back behind her ear.
“I already died. The night Jameson and his brothers jumped us, and Wyatt died, so did I.”
Mira’s eyes widen. Her soft lips part in a horrified O she covers with her fingers.
“By the time Daniel got us to the hospital in Mayfield,” I rub my thumb into the velvet curve of her cheek, “I had severe internal bleeding, several broken bones and a fractured skull. I died on the table. Five minutes. My heart stopped. They called it and everything.” I give her what I hope is a cocky grin when she chokes on a shaky inhale and covers her mouth. “So, I already did the whole death thing. Didn’t stick.”
The wrenching pain in her beautiful expression twists into one of rage. “Why would you say that? You’ll jinx—”
“Nope. I’m supposed to live well into my nineties with a whole brood of grand and great grandchildren.” I kiss the tip of her nose. “Had a witch in Morocco read my palm a few years back. Said I would travel, see the world, meet a tiny brat with blue eyes and live to the ripe old age of ninety.”
“Liar.” But her eyes are bright with amusement.
“Oh, she definitely said brat. I remember that very clearly.”
Mira chuckles. “I meant, witches aren’t real.”
I gasp in feigned outrage. “Sarah was very real. She did a whole ceremony to realign my fortune.”
She raises an eyebrow. “And how much did you pay her for all her hard work?”
“You believe that you’re cursed and have the power to kill people with your mind, but witches are where you draw the line?”
My brat rolls her eyes. “It’s not that I don’t believe in witches, exactly, but—”
“No buts. She told me I had a long life, and I believe her.” I kiss my brat until a shiver courses through her. I drag the sheets up and around us both, not ready to let her go. “You won’t kill me.”
Her smile slips and she sucks her bottom lip between her teeth.
“What if—?”
I kiss her to silence her.
“Ninety. That’s how long you’re stuck with me, Mira.”
Cool fingers frame my face while she searches my eyes. “Promise?” she bites her lip again like she’s fighting with everything in her. “I’ll never forgive you if you leave me.”
I don’t know if she means die on her or ever, but I’m good with both.
“I promise, sweetheart. I’ll write it in blood. I’ll pinkie promise. Hell, I’ll even spit in your hand.”
Her snorting giggle makes me chuckle. “I think you’re supposed to spit in your own hand.”
I scrunch my face in disgust. “That’s gross. Why would I do that?”
Still chuckling, Mira shakes her head. “Why are you like this?”
“Fuck if I know, but I’m your problem now.”
Her eyes narrow. “Like a faulty car?”
“Exactly like a faulty car with a no return policy.”
Her fingers comb through my hair, untangling the knots she created fucking my face, but her expression is pensive.
“Ninety,” she whispers, searching my eyes. “Not a day less.”
Fuck, what are we doing? Am I seriously promising her forever? I haven’t had a serious relationship that lasted more than six months. No woman wants to put up with my job and I never met a woman I cared enough about to change that for, but Mira...
I peer down into her determined little face kissed by the pale gold of the sun rising outside the window. It terrifies me and doesn’t surprise me at all that I like watching the day start with her in my bed — technically, her bed at this moment — but with her in bed. Any bed. I don’t care whose.
I like smelling my body wash on her skin.
I like knowing my cum is slowly leaking from inside her.
I like that her response to finding my tongue deep in her pussy was to keep licking her.
I like the idea of coming home to her. Dropping my bags and scooping her up into my arms and breathing her in.
I fucking love the idea of spending the next sixty years of my life with her.
“Ninety,” I promise.
It’s sealed with a slow, lingering lock of lips that has me dragging her higher in my lap. The sheets slip to our waist, and I trail my promise down her throat, across her chest. I seal it with every thrust of my hips as I take her all over again.
“Did I wake you earlier?” Mira asks several minutes later as we lie in a twisted loop of arms and legs across her bed. “When I had my nightmare ... were you sleeping?”
I have to really dig deep to remember why I was in her room in the first place. I curse realizing how much time I’d lost, but I regret nothing.
“I was ... am leaving.”
I realize my mistake when her head jerks off my shoulder and her eyes go wide.
“Leaving?”
“No!” I cut her off sharply before she can get the wrong idea. “I’m going to Mayfield. I need to grab a few things. I didn’t want to leave without telling you.”
The taut lines of her shoulders soften with my explanation. “Will you take Daniel’s truck? Please?” I realize she’s not asking if I’m considering it. She’s asking that I do. “I know I’m not supposed to mention the you know what, but...” she offers a shaky smile that immediately slips. “I’ll lose my mind wondering if you’re okay. Mayfield is so far and...”
I drag my broken little brat under me. I kiss her because it’s already been several minutes, and I’m worried I’ll forget what she tastes like.
But I’ve never, not since Mom died, had anyone care about me. Sure, Daniel, but he’s my twin. He has no choice. Anyone else? Never.
I don’t know what I’m supposed to do about that.
“Come with me,” I blurt against the downy temptation of her lips.
Her fingertips ghost my jaw. It’s not coaxing, but hesitant. “I want to, but I can’t leave Daniel here alone.”
That freezes me.
Three days in this hellhole and Mira knows Jefferson better than most people who live here. Three days and she knows to be afraid.
I suddenly don’t want to leave either because I can’t leave her here. I know Daniel would die before letting anything hurt her, but if I take the truck, what if they need it?
“We’ll be okay.” She touches the side of my face. Actually presses her whole palm into my cheek and I relish the contact. “Go do what you need to do and come back, okay?”
The way she asks me to return, like she’s not sure she’s allowed to crushes something in my chest.
“Promise,” I say, meaning it. One way or another, whatever I have to do, I will come back home to her. “I’ll be back before you even know I’m gone.”
She gives me a smile tipped in shadows and uncertainty. I don’t know if she’s worried about my leaving or trying not to say anything she thinks I don’t want to hear, but I kiss her harder, fold her deeper into my chest. I don’t stop until she has her fingers in my hair.
Better. Not enough, but better.
“Are you going back to sleep?” I ask her as I draw back to pull my clothes on. “It’s still pretty early.”
Mira shakes her head, a tiny, rumpled figure swaddled in sheets, sitting in the center of the bed. “I think I’m going to lie here for a bit then maybe start breakfast.”
I make the decision before I can second guess myself. I scoop Mira up into my arms, sheets and all.
“Where are we going?”
“You’re not lying here alone.” I tell her simply. I stop outside Daniel’s door and open it without knocking. “Danny?”
My brother comes awake immediately. His brown eyes dart from me to Mira swaddled in her bedding and is instantly alert.
“Baby?”
Gingerly, I set her down. I hold her a few seconds longer for a last, lingering kiss before I send her deeper into Daniel’s room with a gentle swat. He doesn’t hesitate pulling back his blanket and letting her crawl in next to him. She burrows straight into his chest and I’ve never been more jealous.
“I’m borrowing the truck,” I tell him once he has my tiny brat tucked securely.
He looks up and nods.
I watch a second longer as he smooths a palm over her hair and kisses the top of her head before relaxing and closing his eyes.