Chapter 33 #2
I took my time stretching her out, first with one finger, then two, paying generous attention to her clit the entire time.
Her body language was easy for me to read, so I stopped each time right before she came, working her up more and more, leaving her on the edge until she got desperate enough to want more of my fingers, until she was spreading her legs, taking me deeper.
“That’s so good, Dakota. So fucking good.”
She rolled her hips, panting as I fluttered my tongue over her needy clit.
“Please let me come,” she whispered.
“Beg.” Satisfaction glowed in my chest, my erection aching in my pants.
“Please, please, please.” Her eyes were squeezed shut, stomach quivering, clitoris practically pulsing on my tongue. “I’ll let you do anything you want to me. I need to come.”
“You’d already let me do anything I wanted to you.”
Her thighs were trembling on either side of my head, and I didn’t let up on her clit.
I gave her every ounce of stimulation she’d been begging for.
My tongue and my lips, sucking on her, kissing, licking, swirling.
Dakota tilted her head back, her hands clenched into fists at her sides, her pulse wild.
She was shaking as she finally came on my face, grinding against my mouth, whimpering, harsh breaths punching out of her chest.
I flipped her on her stomach, unable to wait another second before I took my own clothes off and slathered a generous amount of lube on my hard cock.
“Ready?”
“I think so,” Dakota answered, her voice muffled in the pillow as I put her ass in the air, grabbing her hips. I took away her sight, just in case she got nervous and tried looking back here, then began to press into her, slowly. She tensed up right away.
“Relax for me, baby girl.”
She winced and panted as I stretched her around the head of my cock. Every inch was fought for, and she was a tighter fit than anything. It took all my restraint to go slowly.
“Micah,” she whined.
“You can take it,” I murmured as I pressed deeper.
I’d been the first person to do this to her, and also the first one to do it to Mason. They’d both been undone in the same way by my hands. Something about that gave me a very deep sense of perverted satisfaction.
Sure, Mason’s first time wasn’t quite as gentle or slow as this, but he could handle that.
I swallowed hard as those memories started to flood my brain, my pulse speeding up.
Bent over the table, panting and sweating and groaning. Gripping my cock like a fucking vise…
And now Dakota had her face pressed into the same pillow where his face had been after he killed Aamon.
They were blurring in my mind, making me confuse my want for her into something for him.
But I didn’t feel shit for him. He made me into a worse person.
He’d fucked me up and he didn’t even know it.
I needed to stop thinking about him, but I couldn’t.
He was etched into all my bones.
Ash. Ash. Ash.
Engraved on my skull, stitched into my veins, carved into my heart, threaded through my soul. Every inch of me.
Not anymore.
Never again.
I focused back on Dakota, on the way her slim waist flared into her hips.
The smooth skin of her back, unmarred by the two massive scars Mason and I shared, along with every other angel.
She was such a snug fit on my dick, and I was almost entirely buried in her ass now, sweat already gliding down the column of my spine.
“You’re doing so well,” I praised, pulling out a bit so I could push back in deeper.
“Micah,” she said again, her voice strangled and breathy. “I—”
“Shhhhh,” I soothed, sliding my palm along the curve of her backside. “Just listen to me, feel me.”
“Okay. I’ll try.” Her body softened slightly, her face pressing to the pillow and her hands unclenching. Her eyes opened and shut, but she couldn’t see anything either way. An invisible blindfold.
“It doesn’t hurt too bad, does it?”
“Not too bad.”
“That’s good. That’s so good,” I groaned, feeling the squeeze of her around my throbbing erection.
My restraint waned with each pump of my hips, and it took conscious effort not to pound her as hard as I fucking wanted to.
I kept my pace steady, pushing deep, grabbing her hips to pull her back against me as she moaned.
My thighs smacked against the back of hers, my balls slapping her pussy, pleasure stabbing up my spine.
It was too good. She was too good. She was everything I’d ever want and more.
I thrust in deep as I came, pulse after pulse of cum shooting out of me, filling her ass, then I collapsed on the bed, holding her against me. We were both sweaty, breathing hard. I gave her back her sight, stroking the side of her face mindlessly while I came down from my high.
I heard the garage door opening less than a minute later—Mason, with Dakota’s food.
It was good timing. She looked up at me nervously, but I just scooped her up into my arms and brought her into the bathroom to clean up.
We took a very quick shower together, just to rinse off the sweat and cum, then went downstairs to eat.
Mason hadn’t even tried to come upstairs when he arrived and was sitting alone at the table when Dakota and I entered the kitchen. She had her pajamas on, thanking him for the food, sitting down right next to him as he opened the plastic bags.
I sat down, too.
He only looked at me for a second before averting his gaze, tension lining his jaw.
Mason and I had started hooking up again, significantly more frequently than before. There was no good reason for it other than the fact that he was a really good lay, and often available to me to fuck.
I’d asked Dakota, How many times?
How many times did you fuck him behind my back?
Her answer had been, A lot of times.
Well, I could fuck him a lot of times, too.
Whether or not I was getting the same thing she got out of it was irrelevant.
And it wasn’t like we ever actually spoke.
We just had sex or sucked each other off or gave rushed handjobs while kissing in such a violent way I often wondered if that verb still fit the action.
More like mauling each other. Trying to eat each other alive.
Pissed off that we were doing any of it and showing that aggression through our lips and teeth and tongues.
We never fucked face-to-face, though. That was my choice.
I just couldn’t do it.
Couldn’t risk looking into his eyes like that, not knowing what I’d find there.
And I never let him top me anymore.
With Aamon dead, I’d half-expected never to see Mason again. It’d been foolish to expect that, though. Neither of us were quite strong enough to break this off again, especially not with Dakota always bringing us back together.
I had to wonder where this path we were heading down actually led towards. How long were we going to keep doing this? When would Dakota ever find out? What would happen then?
What would happen when both of them realized I couldn’t be who they needed me to be?
I could feel Dakota holding out hope for a change in my behavior.
Even if she’d convinced herself she was accepting of this, she wasn’t.
I’d warned her against wishing for a kinder version of my personality to emerge because it didn’t fucking exist. Maybe if she knew the whole truth, she could ask Mason.
Ask him how many times I’d actually ever been able to talk to him about the thing that haunted me the most.
Twice.
The answer was twice.
I’d been with him for so many years and it’d only been mentioned twice. I couldn’t do it.
And now, there were things that haunted me more, perhaps. The end of my relationship with Mason was probably more painful than anything else. It’d brought up everything I’d ever buried, mercilessly ripping all my emotions and memories out of the dirt where I thought I’d laid them to rest.
I shut my eyes, already trying to bury it all again.
Tomorrow, I’d put myself back together. I’d tighten every bolt, lock every door, and pretend I was still fine.
Tonight, I needed the kind of relief that never lasted.