She kisses me, slow at first, soft, before her lips grow frenzied. My hand drifts lower, sliding between us. I stroke her pussy through the thin fabric separating us before my hand slips beneath it. She lets out a soft moan as I rub her clit, closing her eyes and shifting her hips.
Fuck, she’s so wet... so warm... so soft. I grow rock hard as she grinds against me for more friction, taking what she wants. Breaking the kiss, she pulls away, tilting her head back. Her palms press against my chest as she practically fucks my fingertips, my free hand caressing her side before grasping her ass, squeezing it.
Her breathing gets heavier, turning into pants and moans. It doesn’t take long at all, a minute or so, before her breath hitches, her fingernails digging into my skin, clawing at my chest.
“Fuck,” I groan as I watch her come, her muscles twitching, jaw going slack, chest rising and falling fast. My free hand moves yet again, roaming, caressing, my fingertips swiping along her parted lips as I mumble, “You’re so goddamn beautiful.”
Her eyes open, and she looks down at me, leaning closer, her voice shaky as she says, “It’s been so long since somebody said that and I actually felt it.”
She kisses me again before I can respond, deeply, feverishly, as I reach between us, undoing my pants. I pull my cock out, stroking it, giving her a moment, before pushing the fabric separating us aside.
No hesitation, she slides right down onto me.
She moves slowly, and I don’t push her, don’t rush her, don’t flip her over and shove her face into the couch and fuck her—although, come on, you know part of me wants to. No, I let her take her time, let her do this how she wants, how she needs. She wasn’t just tormented emotionally—her body has been through hell. Remnants of bruises still pepper her pale skin, fading but visible. So I just lay here, my hands gentle as they explore, running through her hair, gripping it, holding on.
I can feel it building inside of me, twisting, tightening, as I kiss her breathlessly, my lips never leaving hers. My chest fucking aches at the sensation.
“Fuck, I’m going to come,” I groan into her mouth, my hands sliding down her back, grasping her ass as I buck my hips. I know, I know... take it easy, asshole. I just can’t help myself. I slam into her a few times, her cries echoing through the living room, as I let out a fucking growl, pleasure rippling through me. “Fuck.”
As soon I stop moving, Scarlet lays down on top of me, nuzzling into my neck, her breasts pressing against my chest. I wrap my arms around her, stroking her back, still balls deep inside her pussy.
It’s a strange sensation.
Cuddling.
We’re fucking cuddling.
What the hell happened to my life?
Scarlet reaches up, her fingertips grazing along my jawline, stroking the scruff I need to shave.
It doesn’t last long before it grows uncomfortable.
She’s covered in body fluids—hers and mine.
“Ugh, I’m all sticky,” she grumbles, lifting up so I finally pull out. I miss her warmth right away, as she gets to her feet and pauses in front of me. She snatches the shirt up off of the coffee table, tugging it back on as I eye her in the moonlight, seeing her thighs are slick with juices.
She stares down at me, and I can tell she has questions. She’s going to want details on everything that happened. It’s inevitable, I know… I’ll have to tell her about the dead girl in the basement, have to tell her what I did to the Russians, have to tell her about Seven, but I’m not in the mood. And maybe that’s selfish, maybe it makes me allergic to feelings, but I’d much rather use my mouth for something other than talking right now.
She yelps as I tug her to me, my hands on her waist. Ducking my head, I trace my tongue up her inner thigh, tasting her, licking it off. She whimpers, grabbing ahold of my hair, “Oh god.”
Go ahead, cringe if you must. Scoff and say no, nada, not doing it, nope. Do whatever you want, I don’t care, but me? I’m not afraid of body fluids. I’ll drink every last fucking drop she has to give.
She stands there, gripping onto me as I nuzzle into her pussy, licking, sucking her right through her underwear, but the position gets awkward real fucking quick, I get a kink in my neck, so it’s either stop or— “Fuck it,” I groan. “Come here.”
She squeals as I pull her back onto the couch, yanking her up, bringing her pussy right to my mouth as I lay down flat. She laughs, bracing herself there, straddling my face, as I tongue-fuck her right to orgasm.
“Oh fuck, Lorenzo,” she whimpers, arching her back as she comes, grinding against my mouth, no shame at all. She will ride my face if it means she gets off, and fuck if that doesn’t turn me on.
She stalls when the pleasure fades, looking down at me, her face flushing. She blushes.
Filthy fucking woman has the nerve to look innocent.
I push her off, sitting up, and she laughs as she falls over onto the couch. Before I can pull myself together, there’s a noise above us on the second floor, somewhere in the vicinity of my bedroom. Shit. Scarlet gets to her feet, quickly leaning over and kissing me... just a peck on the corner of my mouth. “I’ve gotta get back to bed.”
“Seriously?” I call out as she starts to leave, just like that. “You just fuck my face and run?”
“Yep.”
I hear her laughter again and then she’s gone.
I desperately need a shower, but that’s out of the question, so I instead wander into the kitchen, doing what I can with what I’ve got to clean myself up. Afterward, I drop back down onto the couch, staring up at the blank ceiling again, my eyes heavy.
Finally tired.
You know that feeling you get whenever you’re being watched? That skin-crawling, nagging sensation, like you can feel their gaze as it penetrates you, sliding along your insides. Hair stands on end. Goose bumps spring up. It’s eerie. You know somebody’s there. You can feel it in the air.
That’s what I wake up to, the sensation so strong it forces me conscious. My heart races, my fingertips tingling from the rush of adrenaline, as my mind starts screaming ‘attack, motherfucker, attack.’
My eyes snap open.
The second they do, I see someone else’s eyes.
Curious little brown eyes.
Right fucking there.
I shove up, startled, sitting up so damn fast I get dizzy. Everything goes black for a second before coming back. Blinking, I look at her, the little Scarlet Letter just standing there a foot in front of the couch.
Sasha.
“Jesus,” I grumble, scrubbing my hands over my face, trying to wake the hell up. She’s standing there, staring at me, like it’s the goddamn Children of the Corn up in here. “What are you doing?”
“I’m hungry.”
She says that shit so matter of fact, like that’s a perfect reason to be staring at me at whatever o’clock. The room is dim, like the sun isn’t even fully shining yet. “What time is it?”
She shrugs.
Doesn’t even look for a clock.
Hell, can she read a clock?
Sighing, I search through my pockets, not finding much, suddenly aware I’ve got drug paraphernalia sitting just to the left of the kid, splayed out on the table. I snatch it up, shoving it away.
We’re off to a great start.
“Where’s your mother?” I ask, looking around.