Chapter 27 #2
“Spread.” I emphasize my demand with my hand to the inside of her thigh and hum as she follows my instructions. Placing my loot on the tiled floor, I lick my lips at the sight before me. “Do you know what the best thing about this ass is?”
“The size of it?”
This time when my palm connects with her flesh, it’s directly on her ass cheek, and I make sure to leave a beautiful, red imprint of my hand.
“No, smartass. The best part is that it’s mine.” I kneel at her feet, my fingers spreading her cheeks and my mouth hungry for her cunt.
“I feel like I should have guessed that answer.”
This time, I bite her heated flesh and leave nice teeth marks for me to admire later.
“Do you know what the best thing about your cunt is?”
Squirming, Berkleigh tries to push her needy pussy in my face, but I’m serious. I need her to answer me.
“Ugh, fine. That it’s yours.”
“No.” I push two fingers inside her, and when I pull them out, she whines like I took away her favorite toy. “Look at me.” She turns her head and our eyes lock for a second before she homes in on my fingers as I push them into my mouth and suck like a starved man.
“Oh, God.”
“Almost right. The best thing about your pretty little cunt, Berkleigh, is that it comes only for me.”
I prove it to her by angling her ass up and her pussy at my mouth so I can feast on her and take everything she has to give.
She deserves it after what she did tonight.
Society may not think it’s right to dole out justice outside the court system, but I don’t give a fuck about society.
All I care about is Berkleigh and the taste of her sweet cum coating my tongue.
The sound of the cuffs as she tries to pull them in vain, coupled with the splatter of the water on the floor at my knees only helps to intensify the music of her moans the closer she gets to her orgasm.
“Give it to me, Berkleigh.”
And how beautifully she does. My dick is so fucking hard from the onslaught falling on my tongue and lips that my brain is picturing it slamming in and out of her and bruising her from the inside. Such a pretty painting that would be.
Bang, bang, bang.
The sound of my dick pounding her, hard and fast.
Bang, bang, bang.
No, wait. That’s not me fucking my woman. That’s the actual sound of someone banging on the bathroom door.
“Fuck off!” I make sure to yell loud enough for the whole fucking club to hear me.
“Hey man, whatta you wanna do with this sweet looking dagger?”
Is he fucking kidding me?.
“I said, fuck off!” Who cock blocks like that? In a fucking sex club?
“Come on, Casanova, let’s finish this off at home. There are a couple of rooms that we haven’t tried out yet.” Berkleigh always knows how to calm me down, but the thought of having to put pants on with my dick this hard is giving me a migraine.
“I’m not a fan of blue balls. Someone needs to pay for this.”
“Stop being a baby and unshackle me.”
“See? Baby is catching on.” I grin, knowing she’s most likely thinking of a hundred ways to make me regret that quip.
“Ugh, it’ll never be a thing!”
It already is.
As soon as we get back home—after finding the Reaper who cock blocked me and threatening him with bodily harm—there’s a sort of serenity that falls over us.
We’ve turned a chapter, maybe even moved onto book two of the series.
Our awakening as a couple. We’re fucked up and just this side of sane, but it’s fine. Who the fuck needs normal anyway?
First thing I did was hold true to my promise and fuck the sass right out of Berkleigh’s system. We’re lying in our bed, me on my back with my Sweet Bee sprawled out over me. It’s my favorite position. I’m the rock and she’s the octopus wrapping all her limbs around me.
Her breathing is getting more and more rhythmic, which is the perfect time to ask her questions because her guard is completely down.
“Do you have anything left in your house that’s of value? Sentimental or otherwise?” My hand is lolling her to sleep as it traces a soft trail up and down her spine.
“No.”
“Are you sure?” I’m only checking that she’s thought about it thoroughly so there aren’t any regrets.
“Yes.” Her body burrows in a little more, like being skin to skin everywhere isn’t enough for her. I fucking love that. “No!” Her head snaps up and our gazes meet. “My bedroom closet. I have your notes from when we were kids.”
My breath hitches at her words. I forgot all about those notes. We used to pass them around in class and sometimes I’d come over to her house and slide them under her door and leave.
“I don’t have the ones you gave me. My dad burned them all when he found them the summer I went to my uncle’s cabin.” I shrug like it’s no big deal, and to be fair, I hadn’t thought of those notes for years.
“He was such an asshole. I’m sorry.” Her arms wrap even tighter around me and I’m surprised it’s possible at this point.
“That he was. Where are the notes?”
“In my closet, under the shoe rack, all the way in the back.” Ouch.
“Trying not to think about me, Sweet Bee?” Her only response is a moan and I can feel her body getting heavier and heavier as the seconds pass.
Meanwhile, my brain goes into overdrive and a plan starts to take form. The more elaborate it gets, the bigger my grin.
Twenty minutes pass and Berkleigh is out like a fucking light.
Careful not to wake her, I slide out from beneath her and wait to make sure she stays asleep before spreading the duvet over her naked body. I’ll be back in no time.
It’s late as I run down the steps, grabbing my shirt and jeans on the way.
I slide my feet into winter boots and step outside.
Berkleigh’s house keys were in her purse upstairs so I swiped those on the way.
I don’t actually need them since I have doubles of them—I’ll keep that tidbit to myself—but they’re in my office and swiping hers was simpler.
Taking the stairs two at a time, memories of my childhood come rushing by the closer I get to her room.
Birthday parties with her parents and a few kids from the neighborhood her mother would invite. Everyone pretended to get along.
Late nights watching cartoons and playing board games.
Home cooking and pats on the back when I got good grades.
I shake those thoughts away, focusing only on my plan. At three o’clock in the morning, not a fucking soul is awake on our street. Still, I went in through the back and kept the lights off to avoid pesky calls from nosy neighbors. Aka, Mr. Reeves.
The hallway upstairs has a huge closet and if memory serves right, there are suitcases in there.
Bingo.
Pulling out the ones that seem sturdy with a longer lifespan, I look around the closet and decide nothing in here is of importance.
Then I move about through the house and collect things that are worth keeping.
At first, I thought about faking a gas explosion, but as cool as that would be to watch, I don’t need my house to be damaged or for others in the neighborhood to be hurt. It would piss off Berkleigh and that would be annoying.
Then I thought about a fire. Easy enough to pass as an accident. Statistically, winter months are when most home fires take place. Fireplaces are nice but also deadly.
Finally, I settled on selling the place. No one gets hurt, nothing illegal is going on, and Berkleigh ends up with a nice nest egg in the bank.
We all win.
So I take pictures, upload them to a website, and wait for people to start bidding.
Did I mention this isn’t a regular website? Exactly, because Berkleigh doesn't need to worry about it.
Let’s say it’s my Christmas surprise for her. Who needs mundane gifts when you can get close to half a million?