I didn’t need him to spell it out for me.
“Yeah.”
I wrapped my lips around him again and felt as his cum shot into my throat in small, hot spurts. It was salty and thick, and made every single part of me tingle.
After he finished, he dragged me to his living room, stark naked, and positioned me on the edge of his tattered couch. He threw my legs open and put his mouth on my already-dripping sex, my need for him running down my inner thighs. He began by licking my inner thighs, biting on them softly with a dazed smile. I tousled his hair in my fist, loving how soft and silky it felt under my fingertips. I gasped when he sucked both my lips into his mouth with force, pumping them in and out while casually sweeping his tongue along my slit. I stared down at his sunshine mane, my mouth puffy and the feel of his cock still lingering on my tongue, wondering if he realized he hadn’t said it back to me. I love you. Maybe he didn’t share the sentiment. That was okay, too. Soul-crushing, but okay, I guess.
With loose, broad strokes, he flicked his tongue around my clit, making me squirm until I had to hold his hair and push him away because it got to be too much. He laughed into my core, my legs wrapped fully around his neck, knotted together by the ankles.
“Why the couch?” I nearly stuttered from pleasure.
“Better position for oral. Lie back and let me eat you.”
“You’re making me crazy.” I writhed, my butt sliding down his couch as I thrust myself toward his mouth. I loved that I couldn’t see his face. Loved that I could simply feel his smile on my sex as he licked me up and down now, using his thumb to rub my clit.
“I like your crazy. It makes you drip like a passion fruit.” He looked up, and I should have been embarrassed to see just how wet and shiny his lips and chin were, but I was way past being self-conscious.
Just minutes later, I came hard, watching as his beautiful lips sucked me hungrily. He looked up, his green eyes menacing, wild, in every shade of green known in nature, and stood up fully, his erection leveling with my face. He pushed me down until I was lying flat on my back and kneeled between my legs, straddling my left leg.
“Pretzel position,” he said, sliding into me bareback, his smirk dreamy and taunting all at once.
“Never heard of it,” I murmured.
“Well, I’ll make sure you never forget it.”
By the time I arrived at my shift, sans Roman, who’d gone to pick up his Harley from El Dorado and train Beck, I felt normal. More like myself. Less like the monster I’d wanted to be yesterday.
Before we parted ways, Bane kissed me in front of the entire café. It felt like a statement. A statement that lacked words, but said the same thing that I’d said to him that morning.
He’d stroked my cheek. “We need to talk tonight. After you’re done with Mrs. B. Promise me you’ll go to her from here, then straight to the houseboat.”
I nodded. I got it. He didn’t want me to clash with Pam. I didn’t, either.
“Pinky promise.”
“Straight back home,” he’d warned one last time.
I’d watched him as he jumped into Beck’s car to pick up his Harley.
And I’d felt it. The strength to do what needed to be done. To overcome Shadow’s death, and everything else life had thrown at me the past few years.
What I didn’t know was that this sudden strength was essential.
Because that evening, the princess had to wield her sword.
And finally slay all of her demons.
My shift zinged by. I was grateful to be occupied with work, because it prevented me from obsessing over Shadow. But Shadow wasn’t the only problem I had to deal with.
Where am I going to live?
Will I ever be able to forgive Pam?
Should I cut ties with Darren, now, too?
Is Mrs. Belfort going to be okay?
And perhaps the biggest question of them all, the one that had been swimming in my head since the flashback had started: who was the person that smelled of vodka? The one who made me subconsciously fill my room with Polaroids of people’s backs.
When I finished my shift, I had four missed calls. Two from Pam, one from Darren, and one from Roman. I figured Pam wanted to apologize because she was scared I was going to kill myself and that would stain her precious reputation, and Darren was going to plea her “she ith jutht worried about you” case. I wasn’t in the mood for the charade, so I only returned Roman’s call.
“Headed to Mrs. Belfort’s?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
“Just remember, do your thing, give her kids grief for being assholes, and come straight home. This can’t wait another day.”