Chapter 47 #3
I pull out and collapse face-first onto the mattress next to her.
“It’s you, you sex witch,” I say, my voice muffled by the mattress. “It’s too good with you. Also, you moved. I stopped.”
I roll to my side and find her exactly the way I positioned her: arms at her sides, hard nipples begging to be sucked, gorgeous legs locked tight in front of her, hips angled just right for me. It’s a silent plea to resume, and I’m not about to say no. But I’m going to need to switch things up.
“Do you think you can keep your back flat but lay your right leg on top of mine if I stay on my side?”
She turns her head toward me, and I allow it because logistics.
“Do you think I’d tell you if I couldn’t?”
“Honesty, neighbor girl.” I palm her breast, squeeze it, roll the nipple between my fingers. Fucking hell, her tits are perfect. “One of the non-negotiables for our murder-marriage is not hiding when we’re hurt.”
“I promise to tell you if it doesn’t work for me.” She smirks. “Murder husband.”
I pinch that pink tip and groan. “Call me that again.”
“Hugo Mohr,” she croons as she slides her leg over mine, opening herself up so I can see her glistening slit. “My murder husband.”
“Rue, fuck.” I press against her and grab my cock, sliding it along that wet seam and dipping the head into her entrance before retreating.
I do it again, sliding through her moisture, teasing her entrance, pulling back.
It’s a different kind of torture than the stop-and-start game, and I slide, tease, and retreat until she’s red-faced and whining my name.
“Please,” she begs, thrusting her hips down to try to impale herself. She immediately curses. “God, don’t stop!”
“You moved,” I say tightly. But instead of pulling away, I freeze with the first two inches of my cock still inside her.
“Hugo.” Her voice is a low plea, but I don’t push further in and I don’t pull all the way out. I hold myself still and revel in each twitch and pulse of her cunt around my sensitive head as she fights to stay as still as I am.
“Hugo!” she says more urgently.
I look down at my woman. She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, her eyes squeezed shut and her hair stuck to her damp forehead and flushed, sweaty cheeks. “Please, please, please,” she begs. “Please, Hugo. I need you to move.”
Her voice is beyond desperate, and my hips surge forward on their own, filling her with one hard thrust. She shrieks her approval, and my mouth finds hers so I can make good on my promise to myself to suck on that wicked tongue of hers.
When I break the kiss to focus on working into her with slow, deep grinds of my cock, she asks, “Is… is that your real name? Hugo Mohr?”
“Yes,” I say distractedly, too focused on how fucking good her pussy feels around me. That hot squeeze grips me so tight, I’m never coming back from this.
“Your middle name’s really Francis?”
I lift my leg, lifting hers along with it and spreading her even wider. “Why do you think I started killing people?”
Her answering laugh becomes a wail when I find her clit and circle it with my thumb while I fuck up into her.
“Give me another one, baby. I need to feel it.”
“Keep doing that and I… I’ll… yes, Hugo, fuck!”
Her right arm flies up so she can grab my hair, and I see the wince that motion causes her but I can’t fucking stop right now, not when she just pushed through pain to claim me and definitely not when her pussy starts to throb around me and her moans are in my ear and she’s yanking me down to devour my mouth in an act of such possession that my thrusts turn erratic and I pull back to hold her gaze, my voice cracking on her name as I pump her full of my cum.
In the trembling, sweaty, gasping aftermath, I end up sprawled across the bed with my head pillowed between her breasts and her fingers still in my hair.
“You moved,” I slur into her skin.
“And you take up too much space,” she mumbles.
It’s like she tossed a stone into a pond, the ripples expanding outward until they slap against me on a far-off shore.
“Are you”—I lift my head off her chest and say hesitantly—“are you still not used to it?”
She laughs. “Are you kidding? I love it.” She closes the distance I just put between us. “I love it, Hugo. Your shoulders, your legs, your height. At my mailbox, messing with my routines, cracking open my secrets.” She pushes me onto my back. “Thank you for being so… you.”
Her hand stays splayed on my chest, right over my heart where it beats for her.
“So you’re telling me that all I had to do to come home and find you in my bed, to strip you naked and touch your skin and listen to you call me yours, was annoy you with my fake glasses for six hundred and forty-one days, find out you’re a murderer and that one of your kills went sideways, then spend the worst hours of my life racing all over the city, believing I’d lost you forever? ”
Her crooked grin gives way to a vulnerability that scrapes over my skin and leaves me raw.
“Felicity said I was acting like our mom, just pure chaos and bad instincts. She wasn’t wrong, but I don’t think that’s all it was.” She presses her cheek to my chest. “It was also love, Hugo. It was love that I didn’t recognize for way too long.”
Love. She loves me.
I don’t know how or why. I don’t know what I did to deserve it. I just know I’m the lucky bastard who gets to keep her.
“I love you.” I nudge her chin up. “You’re the first person I’ve ever said that to.”
“Good.” She smiles sweetly up at me. “And I’d better be the last.”
Did I say sweet? There’s a hint of murder in her eyes, but before I can tell her that my loving anyone else is a laughable idea, her gaze drops to my leg, and she sucks in a breath.
“Is that…?” She touches the edge of the small pink line on my right thigh.
“Where you stabbed me the night we really met? Yes.”
She lights up with feral possessiveness. “That’s my mark on you.”
“Yeah, baby, it is.” I squeeze her to me, trusting her to tell me when it hurts. Then I sigh and ease her back so I can force myself out of bed. I leave her on her stomach, the strong, sexy lines of her back and ass undulating along my sheets.
“Don’t go,” she says plaintively.
I press a kiss to her head. “I need to check on Cosmo, but I’ll bring back water, bananas, and animal cookies.”
At her adorably confused look, I rest my hand on one of her biteable butt cheeks. “The water’s for hydration, the bananas are for energy, and the animal cookies are for you.” I swat that cute little ass. “Our night’s just getting started.”