Sparrow

“But most of all, I like it with you…” His mouth continued its relentless motion.

“I’m close,” I panted. I was. And there was nothing I could do to ruin it. I felt the orgasm washing through me. Rocking back and forth, aroused to a point of insanity.

The faucet behind me turned slightly to the right, and the cold water suddenly ran warmer until it got hot. When he moved up to kiss me, I smiled. “I’d like to reciprocate.”

“Oh, you will.” He grabbed one of my thighs, holding my knee in the crook of his elbow.

He slammed into me hard and fast before I knew what was happening, and I gulped air. Shit, it was good. I was so full of Troy I thought I already was going to explode again.

“When did you have time to take off your pants?” I asked, laughing while he fucked me.

It was crazy, but with a few short, powerful thrusts, another orgasm was building inside of me, chasing the first one and threatening to tear me even harder apart. He grabbed one of my breasts through my wet shirt and pinched my nipple hard.

“Baby, oh…” I was moaning in a volume more suited to a heavy-metal concert, so he started swallowing my loud, happy sounds with dirty kisses, muffling my voice, his tongue fucking my mouth, his lips locked on mine. Toothy kisses, filthy kisses, hungry and desperate and wanting kisses. Kisses that were much, much more than kisses.

There was nothing gentle and romantic about it. He was banging the living hell out of me, screwing me so hard I could feel his cock pounding deep inside me. I felt my second orgasm rippling from the inside, rushing through me like a tsunami of warmth, when something sharp sliced the tie in two and my arms fell free without a warning. I almost dropped to the tiled floor, but Troy grabbed me by the elbow at the last minute, my knees just inches from the tile.

“Reciprocate,” I heard his sharp voice ordering, and immediately knew what he wanted me to do.

Bending down, I lowered my head to meet his cock, taking as much of it as I could in my mouth. My gag reflex was impossible to tame, but I held my breath and covered some of his shaft with my lips. I was still self-conscious about my blow-job technique, or lack of, but I didn’t need to be.

Before I had a chance to figure out what to do, he slammed into me, fucking my mouth. “Can I?” he asked.

I nodded, closing my eyes. I’d always thought it would feel degrading to go down on a man, but how could I with him, especially now when my wrists were still hurting after he ate me out and made me feel like I was the most delicious thing in the whole freaking world.

I felt him tense, spasm, and then the thick, warm liquid filled my mouth. I swallowed hard, a small shiver running through my body. Looking up, I saw the smile on his face when his head dropped back, his black hair dripping water on my face.

He stroked my hair twice with the hand that wasn’t holding his cock and sighed with pleasure. “Fuck,” he said.

Fuck, indeed.

Despite everything, Troy Brennan was human. And he was the worst kind, too—enchanting enough to get away with anything. Even murder.

We ate cold Chinese food and drank buckets of alcohol in front of the TV while I forced him to watch 10 Things I Hate About You with me. Well, he wasn’t really watching. More like answering emails on his phone, twirling my hair around his finger and occasionally rolling his eyes whenever Heath Ledger and Julia Stiles shared a romantic moment, but it was more domestic bliss than I’d had in my whole life combined. We lay on the carpet, him taking another sip of his Guinness, when I rolled into his chest, seeking his warmth.

“You don’t have to be so anti-love. You can learn a thing or two from rom-coms,” I said.

“I’m not anti-love.” He dove down to kiss my lips, his hot tongue flicking my lower lip sensually. “I’m anti-bullshit. I bet you good money that if a real life chick had a guy jumping on the bleachers, singing a love song for her in front of a bunch of pimply high school kids, she’d pretty much kill him.”

I laughed. “Wrong. I would love to hear you sing for me in front of high school kids.”

“I would love for you to come back from your shift tomorrow completely naked, with nothing to hide your lady parts but a rare steak.”

“That would never happen.”

“Neither would me singing you a song in front of snarky teenagers.”

He was normal. And fun. Worst of all, he showed me another part to love. A new layer in his complex personality no one else had access to. A layer tucked so deep under layers and layers of apathy, brutality and abrasiveness, showing it to me was almost like learning how to walk again.