Chapter 36
I set two full plates of waffles, sausage links, and scrambled eggs on the island, sliding one over to Zilphia.
“Thanks,” she says, offering me a small smile.
I shrug and look away from her. “It’s food, not a fucking marriage proposal.”
She looks down at her plate, her smile disappearing.
What the hell am I doing? I cooked her breakfast like some lovesick idiot.
That chore usually falls to her, but I took over this morning.
I still can’t explain why. I’ve never cooked a meal for the opposite sex before; it’s not my style.
A good dick down is the best I can offer.
Woof! Woof! Harley barks, basically telling me to hurry the fuck up with her breakfast in dog language. I scoff at her audacity. She’s always been a spitfire. Mayhem, on the other hand, is calm, cool, and collected for the most part, despite his moniker.
“Yeah, yeah,” I grumble, topping their hearty breakfast with several multivitamins. “It’s coming.” They’ve been on a raw diet since they were eight weeks. I prepared their favorite today—beef liver, chicken hearts, raspberries, and broccoli.
I feel Zilphia’s eyes on me as I place the ceramic bowls on the floor. Mayhem and Harley stay on their bellies near the kitchen entrance, watching me expectantly. They know to wait for my command. I’m alpha here.
“Could you pass me the ketchup, please?”
I nod and grab the tomato-based condiment from the fridge, then hop onto the stool beside her.
“Thanks,” she says, plucking the bottle from my grasp.
Harley and Mayhem are on all fours now, whining for their breakfast.
“Eat,” I instruct them and they bolt across the kitchen, almost knocking each other over. I shake my head, my lips tilting upward in a half smile. You’d think they were starving.
“They eat better than most people,” Zilphia comments before shoving a forkful of ketchup-covered eggs into her mouth.
I grimace, gesturing toward her plate with my fork. “That can’t taste good.”
“It does, actually. You should try it.”
“Nah, I’m good,” I mutter, liberally dousing my waffles in maple syrup. “Ketchup doesn’t go on eggs.”
She shrugs. “So how long have you had Harley and Mayhem?”
“Two and a half years,” I answer, my gaze lingering on her.
She’s so goddamn beautiful, it hurts to look at her. I ache for her morning, noon, and night. Even now, after a night buried inside her, my body still burns for her, aching to feel her soft, all-consuming heat again.
Her eyebrows knit together in thought as she cuts into a waffle. “I never figured you for a dog person.”
“I wasn’t.” I slam my glass onto the island, spilling orange juice over the rim as dark memories cloud my mind. “Zeus thought they’d be good for me. I was fucked up for a long time after I got here, getting high and drunk every day, starting fights, ditching school. I should be dead.”
“Because of me,” she whispers, her eyes lowered in shame. “Sandman, I—”
I seize her ponytail and yank her head back, drawing a whimper from those perfectly formed lips “Another apology, Zilphia?” My bitter laugh echoes in the kitchen.
“Keep that pretty little mouth of yours shut and finish your breakfast before something bad happens.” I tighten my hold on her hair. “We on the same page?”
“Y-yes,” she stammers.
I let her go, but our silverware lies forgotten on our plates as tense silence fills the space between us.
I shake my head, attempting to dispel the dark memories from my mind, but they refuse to go away.
My head swims with the need to hurt her.
But I can’t—not the way I want to, now that she’s carrying our child.
I zero in on her trembling hand. She’s afraid, and she has good reason to be.
The monster in me lurks just beneath the surface, demanding to be let out.
I ball my hands into fists as my breathing accelerates, matching the tempo of my racing heart.
A clear drop of liquid splashes onto the marble countertop, landing beside her still trembling hand.
I lift my gaze to her face, seeing the trail of a single tear on her smooth cheek.
It’s not enough. I need more of her tears.
Before I can stop myself, I close my hand around her slender neck and jerk her to me.
I lick the wet path on her caramel-kissed skin, savoring the salty flavor on my tongue. “Tastes so fucking good.” I run my nose down the side of her face. “Cry some more.”
“The-the ba-baby,” she croaks, latching her hands onto my forearm. “P-please.”
“Be a good girl and cry for me.” I suck her plump bottom lip into my mouth and bite down hard.
My chest rumbles as her distinct metallic flavor assails my taste buds. Zilphia cups my cock through my jeans, and it twitches in response, my need to fuck her instantly overpowering my need to hurt her. Smart girl; she knew awakening my libido would save her from my wrath.
I band an arm around her petite waist and pull her between my legs, claiming her lips in a possessive kiss.
Our lips clash again and again, tongues tangling, every movement perfectly matched—like we’re reading each other’s thoughts.
She moans and melts against me, her fingers clenched in my shirt.
I cradle the back of her head and deepen the kiss.
Fuck, I want her more than my next breath.
“Off,” I growl, tearing her pajama bottoms and panties down her legs.
“Yes,” Zilphia pants, hurriedly stepping out of the soft fabric pooled at her feet.
I swipe my arm across the countertop, sending my plate and orange juice crashing to the floor.
I lift her onto the island and spread her legs open for my greedy gaze.
My jaw tightens, saliva thick on my tongue, as I drink in the delectable sight before me.
Glistening pink. My favorite color. I never had a favorite color until I laid eyes on her pussy.
I pull her legs over my arms and bury my nose into her slit, inhaling her scent into my body. My throbbing dick grows harder, straining against the denim containing it.
“You make me feel insane,” I rasp, meeting her gaze. “But I welcome the madness, because it means I get to have you.” I dip my head between her folds again and rub my face in her sweet juices. “You’re my curse and my salvation.”
“Is this all it’ll ever be between us?” she asks, her voice thick with emotion. “You hating me. Fucking me. Hurting me. I’m so tired, Sandman. I’m so goddamn tired.”
“That’s all I have to give.” I grab the maple syrup and pour the amber liquid all over her pussy.
“Oh God,” she breathes, clutching the edge of the island.
“God has nothing to do with what’s about to happen.” I lower my mouth to her sweet paradise and slowly tease my tongue along her velvet-soft pussy lips.
She undulates against my face as her sexy as fuck moans serenade my ears, making my painfully hard cock jump.
I burrow my hands under her top and grasp her waist. My fingers meet at the small of her back, grazing the letters I carved into her flesh.
That was the first night I was inside her.
The first night I knew I would die a thousand deaths before I’d ever let her go.
“Best dessert I’ve ever had,” I rasp and close my lips around her clit, suckling it like it’s my favorite candy.
“Yes! Yes! Yes!” she shouts, clutching the back of my head. “I’m going to… Oh God… I’m going to co—”
Zilphia’s passion-filled cries reverberate through the kitchen as I flick my tongue back and forth over her clit. I feel the squeeze of her soft thighs against my head as her orgasm ripples through her.
“Sandman,” she gasps, frantically thrusting against my mouth. “Please don’t stop.”
I lick and suck her swollen sweet spot until her tremors subside. With jerky movements, I free my throbbing length and pull her astride my lap. My cock melts into her slick heat. Sen-fucking-sational. It’s so goddamn good, my entire body trembles.
In my twenty-one years on this Earth, I never had pussy so good it made me tremble like a little bitch. Zilphia got that top-tier pussy. That toxic pussy. The type of pussy that can make a motherfucker commit murder just to feel her dripping treasure.
I place my hands on either side of her neck, sliding my thumbs under her chin and tilting her head back until her gaze finds mine, burning with a fire that mirrors my own. “Ride my cock like your life depends on it.”
Zilphia rolls her hips, gliding the wet suction between her thighs up and down my erection.
I pull her close, wrapping my arms around her waist, and she leans into me, her arms locked around my neck, holding me just as tight as we stare into each other’s eyes.
I give up complete control, allowing her to set the rhythm and pace.
And my God, she rides me slow and steady, and fuck if my toes don’t curl.
Shit. Our lips touch, but we don’t kiss.
“You can’t hate me and hold me like this,” Zilphia whispers, cupping my face in her small hands.
“You can’t hate me and fuck me like this.
” She places lingering kisses on my lips, and I kiss her back, until we’re both breathless, clinging to each other tighter.
She pulls back and peers at me with those alluring mocha eyes.
“You can’t hate me and kiss me like this. ”
“That’s where you’re wrong, Zilphia,” I murmur against her lips.
“My hate for you is what gets my dick hard.” I thrust upward and she moans.
“It’s what makes me come so hard I can barely stand afterward.
I can fuck you and still hate you. I can fuck you and still want to put a bullet in your head.
Don’t ever confuse what we have for a fucking fairytale. ”
She shakes her head. “I don’t believe you.”
“You should.” I dig my fingers into her soft, round ass and slowly guide her gushing pussy up and down my length.