Chapter 13
ZANE
What went through my head as gripped her throat?
Fuck if I know.
Felt like the right thing to do.
But listening to her loud moans and choked-off screams as she came on my fingers, that definitely woke things in me. Things I can’t quite name, but none of them told me I’d be better off with her dead.
I came here to make her pay. But that doesn’t mean she pays with her life. I guess.
She’s sleeping soundly beside me, her even breathing like a sweet lullaby, such as I haven’t heard in a very long time. Even with all the sounds coming from elsewhere in this thin-walled building, it’s only her breathing—and sweet little sleepy moans—I hear clearly.
My cock is still rock hard and throbbing, pressed painfully against my zipper.
But I need that pain. Need some sort of pain or else I’ll start to like this setup too much. And I can’t let myself do that. I’ve been down the road of trusting Sienna with my life, and it didn’t lead anywhere good.
She’s a liar. A very good one. A very pretty one. But a liar through and through. Not to be trusted.
I haven’t slept in a few days, and my eyes are starting to close. I’m starting to see dreams unfolding while still awake. Nice dreams. Filled with sunlight and soft breezes. And I’m sure the lullaby of her breathing and the warmth of her body pressed against mine has a lot to do with that.
I can sleep now. I will sleep. But not because she’s here giving me peace.
I won’t fall into that trap ever again.
The room is dark when I suddenly wake up. I can tell by the different quality of the noise coming from the rest of the building that time has passed, that I slept. The only light is coming from outside the windows. Must be the full moon, or maybe too many headlights on at the same time.
It’s a faint light but it still makes Sienna’s face and perfect body glow silvery white.
She’s kneeling on the bed next to me, her long, soft hair a curtain across her breasts, but not quite hiding her erect nipples.
My lips tingle to taste them. But every time I kiss her, I lose a piece of myself.
That’s always been true. And I’m not ready to lose any more pieces to her… I’ve lost enough.
She undid the buckle of my jeans—that’s what woke me. Now she glides her hand over my raging hard cock. I sit up with a jerk and grab her wrist. She smiles serenely, her hair tickling the sides of my neck as she bends down to kiss me softly on my lips.
Her finger, undeterred by my grip on her wrist is caressing my cock.
“Let me do this for you,” she whispers.
She rises and moves, replaces her fingers with her lips. I’m still gripping her wrist, tightly and firmly. But that’s just so I have something to hold onto as I prepare to lose yet another piece of my soul to her. How many are even left?
But none of that seems to matter anymore. Doesn’t matter at all as she frees my cock from my boxers, her hot, soft breath making it even harder. Making it throb even wilder.
I have no fight left in me.
So I release her wrist and lay back, seeing stars on the ceiling as her lips wrap around the head of my cock. Her tongue finds the softest, most sensitive part and leaves a line of laser-hot pleasure in its wake where it touches.
I always loved how she did that. And she’s forgotten none of it. Her tongue and her kisses could always make me go wild.
Until I went feral.
None of that seems to matter as much as it usually does in my mind. Because she’s naked beside me, my cock in her mouth and everything is as it should be because of that.
The cold light of day is so far away that nothing we do in this dark night matters.
She bobs on my cock, taking more and more down her throat, until she’s gagging on it. But she doesn’t stop, and her eyes gleam bright in the moonlight as though she, and not the moon, is the source of it.
She looks deep into my eyes as she takes even more of my cock past her perfect lips—so deep I feel like I’m swimming in some peaceful lake in the middle of nowhere, letting the world spin on without me, all my problems inconsequential.
She works my cock like only she can. Like only she ever could. Knowing all my spots, knowing exactly what I like, what I need and when, even after all this time.
By the time her tongue is once again doing its perfect little dance along my most sensitive spots, I’m so ready to come, so ready to feed her all of me that I feel it in my entire body.
She can take whatever pieces of my soul she left me with. But not on her terms. On mine.
I grab the back of her head and thrust my cock all the way down her throat, ignoring her teeth grazing my sensitive flesh. She gasps, but her throat opens for me nicely.
Her gorgeous eyes start watering as I thrust in again and again, deeper and deeper. She’s gagging on each thrust, her long nails digging into my thighs, painful even through the thick fabric of my jeans. But she’s not pulling away, not trying to make me stop. If anything, she opens for me more.
So I continue thrusting, harder and deeper, faster and faster. Until I bury my cock deep in her throat and roar as the release takes me to heights of pleasure I haven’t visited since I’d been with her last.
I empty every last drop of my come down her throat and she takes it all, tears streaming down her face, her hands balled into fists against my stomach.
Her eyes and her lips are both glistening like liquid moonlight as I finally release her.
I cup her chin and run my thumb across her lips, feeling the softness, feeling the glow, feeling the trembling as her breathing returns to normal. Her eyes are still full of a watery moonlight, and she looks as innocent as anyone ever can be.
“Thank you for that,” I tell her, because whatever else might be, she deserves my thanks for making me feel better than I have in years and years.
Her lips stretch into a smile. “My pleasure.”
She lies down beside me, wrapping her arm tightly across my stomach, as she burrows into my side. I hold her too, because why not make the pleasure last a little longer.
“I know you don’t believe me, but all I want to do, all I ever wanted to do was make you feel good. Make you happy.”
Her words are like the licks of a warm wind on a cool summer night. Pleasant, welcome, but completely out of place, completely wrong.
So I don’t reply. And soon she’s breathing deeply and evenly again. In a minute, I’ll sleep too. Maybe dreams will help me make sense of this. But they’re usually nightmares. And those are much more familiar than having her soft body in my arms.
I don’t know what to do with either of them—Sienna or the nightmares. Never have. And never will.
But does that even matter?