Martyris ( Cavalieri Della 3)

To most women that wouldn’t be enough, but for Bentlee, it’s what keeps her in my arms. And this time, when she kisses me, I know she means it.

I run a hand up her back as she reaches down and pulls the strings of my sweatpants and lift my ass so she can easily slide them off. She throws them in the same direction of her clothes, then she makes her way down my body with the tips of her fingernails grazing my flesh. It’s not painful—it’s her way of igniting all of my senses and it fucking works.

My cock is harder now, aching for her undivided attention and when she places her hands on my thighs, I feel like I’m ready to explode already.

Bentlee takes my erection in her hands, licking the head of my dick. She likes to tease me before the show and I don’t mind it in the least. I shift slightly underneath her as my body relaxes and Bentlee doesn’t make me wait any longer. She slides the tip of my cock into her mouth, sucking the bulbous head before she takes the rest into her mouth. Her tongue moves like a pro—the kind you would order from a high class escort service and her lips feel like fucking mana from Heaven as she takes more of me into her mouth. When I feel the back of her throat, my eyes close tightly and I grip her hair in my fist telling myself not to rush her or force her to take more than she can.

It’s a fucking struggle, but it always is when she’s sucking my dick. She’s amazing with her mouth and I’ll reward her soon enough for thinking of me when I tell her that this is never about me. Being with her is about making sure that she knows she’s wanted—it has nothing to do with my pleasure.

I let go of her hair and move to my elbows so I can watch her. I’ve always loved watching Bentlee regardless of what she’s doing and this is no exception. She bobs her head up and down, her hand trailing behind her soft lips as she takes all of me into her throat and gags herself. When she finally lets go, when she’s had her fill, she smiles up at me with watering eyes and a mouth to match.

I reach down for her and pull her up toward me, but not on me. No, now is the time that I get to return the favor and it’s something I know she enjoys. I lay her gently on her back, kiss her gently on her lips, and move down, my face between her legs. I can see the shine of her want for me on her pussy lips, smell the absolute treasure that I know is waiting for me and rest my head on her inner thigh. I want to tease her like she did me, because if this is to be our last time together, I want her to remember everything about this moment.

She lets out a soft moan as I reach up and run a finger down her slit, but I don’t push into her opening just yet. I want the memory of my fingers to be something she’ll crave long after I’m dead and I want to be sure that she’ll never feel this way again with any other man.

I lick the tip of my finger and go back to teasing her. Her legs are trembling now and I know she wants this as much as I do, but I think we could stand a few more moments of my fingers working where my tongue will soon take over.

“Fuck me, Gareth,” she whines softly, but I won’t.

Not yet.

I move my head from her thigh and look at the beautiful, hairless mound before me and do my best to commit it to memory. The small freckle that sits above her hood, the way her lips shine when she’s ready for me to pleasure her, and the color of her perfect, pink pussy.

I finally make my move and use my tongue to part her lips, gently running it up and down her slit until her body relaxes and she allows me entry. I begin to lick the tip of her clit because I want one more teasing moment, before I slide a forefinger inside of her and begin to move it in and out. My tongue covers her clit now as I begin to suck and nibble, igniting every single sense she’s bared to me and then slide a second finger into her.

As I continue to fuck her with my fingers, lick up every drop of her juices,

Bentlee starts to tremble even more than before. I don’t stop, though. I want her to come because the taste of her is like nothing I’ve ever had before, and it’s one of my favorite things in the world.

She groans loudly as she begins to grind her pussy against my tongue and my fingers, and I pull away with a grin on my face. I like watching her as I’ve said, and nothing beats watching her fuck herself against my fingers. I’ve stopped moving them by now, and she won’t have any of that, she wants to feel them moving inside of her and because of that she keeps fucking against them.

“Good girl,” I tell her softly when she finally comes and coats my fingers with her juices. I pull them out of her pussy and suck the taste clean before I settle above her, and reach down for my cock, placing it against her opening. “You still good to go?” I ask her softly. Even with as far as we’ve gone, I give her the opportunity to stop me every time because I know that there are moments where our relationship bothers her for obvious reasons.

“I want you,” she breathes as she grips my forearms.

And that is all the permission I really need. I push my cock into her and when her back arches slightly and her eyes widen, I know that we’re doing the right thing. No matter how many times this seems wrong, it feels so right.

Chapter 3

I’m waiting downstairs for Tristan to come back

Even though I know that he and Queenie are probably in the wind, having long since split, I have hope that he’ll come back because he knows I’ll do everything I can to keep him off Arthur’s radar.

Bentlee went home about an hour ago and it physically hurt me to let her go. I could see in her eyes that she knew something was wrong, but I made sure she didn’t worry about me without telling her anything. I just promised her that I would see her soon and that was the end of the conversation.

Arthur invited me to stay in the guest house of his property when he first called me, but I declined. I knew it would be a rare thing to get a face to face audience with him but I just don’t have it in my heart to betray a brother.

Not even for the man in charge.

I rub my face tiredly as I lean down and swipe a piece of dust off my boot. After I clean my hands on the leg of my jeans, I run them back over the sides of my head. The guys always tease me and tell me that I look like a party boy from Santa Monica, because I like to keep my dark blonde hair shaped and pushed out of my face, but it just makes shit easier than having to worry about strays getting into my eyes at the wrong moments.

Bunch of pretty boys, I think with a chuckle as I lean back against the cushions and grab the remote off the arm of the couch. I turn the television on and flip mindlessly for a while until I finally find a program to catch my attention. It’s a rerun from the eighties, but it’s a sit-com and I know that I’m going to need to feel more cheerful than I presently do.

When I hear the burner phone ringing in the room somewhere, I sigh heavily and rest my head on the arm of the couch. I know it’s the burner because it has the most annoying, high-pitched ring I’ve ever fucking heard. I should get up and answer it because it could be Arthur again, or Hell, it could even be Tristan letting me know how Lynette’s doing, but I’m not interested right now.

I’m becoming far too interested in what shenanigans the shoe salesman on the television screen is going to get up to.

But the sudden knock at my door forces me to finally break away from the world I’ve tried so desperately to become immersed in and interact with reality.