A Gorgeous Villain (St. Mary's Rebels 2)

All I can do is go lax on the bed and whisper his name. “Reed.”

“Show me where I hurt you,” he demands, his eyes piercing.

And I do it.

I have no shame when I let go of his wrists and creep my one hand up to my breasts and squeeze one. “Here.” My other hand goes down my swollen belly and touches my pussy.

I don’t stop there though.

I don’t just touch it, I rub my lips, wet and soft, making my hips jerk under his eyes. I part those lips like he parted my hoodie to show him my fairy hole, like he calls it, and whisper again, “And here.”

Making him growl.

There’s no mistaking the sound that emerges from him.

He growls at the sight of my spread-open pussy, the pussy that he thinks is hurting because of him, and I see determination wash over his gorgeous features.

He brings his eyes, all dark and predatory and protective, to mine as he grabs my naked thighs. As he makes my legs fold up at the knees and hooks the arches of my feet to the edge of the bed.

Then without taking his eyes off me, he moves his hands.

He gets them under my butt and picks me up off the bed. I fist my hands on the sheet when he fits his broad shoulders between my spread thighs and settles himself at my raised pelvis.

And then with his eyes on me, he puts his mouth right there.

On my pussy.

On the hole that I showed him, and sucks my lips into his mouth.

The growl that emerges from him then is the fiercest one I’ve ever heard. And I can’t help but think — again — that he has turned into an animal. Like he did that night when he came for my scent and sniffed the column of my throat, wanting to see if I smelled the same.

And God, I love that.

I love how I change him.

Because he changes me too.

He makes me shameless and I writhe my hips on his mouth, moaning. Which only makes him growl louder and suck harder, as if he’s sucking and drinking from a cup or a wedge of a fruit with his big hands raising it up to his mouth.

After that I don’t have the strength to look into his horny animal eyes.

I close mine and give myself to him.

I curl my fingers in the sheet, my toes in the air, and I let him apologize to me.

I let him talk to my pussy, tell her how sorry he is. How he was an asshole to her that night. How he should’ve known. He should’ve known that she was tight and untouched. She was innocent and daisy fresh before he plowed into her. Before he destroyed her and trashed her and made her cry. Made her bleed.

How he knocked her up.

And then with his long pulls and sucks on my clit, he tells her that he’ll apologize to her for the rest of his life if he has to. He’ll eat her and suck on her and lick her until she can’t stand it anymore, until she can’t stand the pleasure.

He’ll pamper her until she comes and comes on his tongue.

And she does.

I do.

My channel pulses and I undulate my hips in the air. I twist them, shake my ass in his hands as I come in his mouth. As my pussy ripples on his tongue.

As he sucks on my clit and licks my fairy hole. As he moves his mouth up and down and side to side, growling and apologizing and soothing and hurting me.

I come and come and come. I flow into his mouth, douse his tongue with my juices as I chant his name over and over and over.

I chant the name of the guy who’s asking for my forgiveness on his knees, with his mouth on my pussy.

The guy I’ve already forgiven. Who then brings me down to the bed, carefully, tenderly before he bends over and places a reverent kiss on my pregnant belly.

He moves up to my swollen tits and kisses them too, finally going up to my forehead to breathe me in, to place soft kisses in my hair.

Only to leave me all alone in my bed.

“She’s forgiven me,” I say to Pete, barging into his office.

An hour later, after I’ve put her to sleep in the bed.

I couldn’t sleep though. I couldn’t stay there either.

At the scene of my crime.

At the scene where I touched her with my dirty hands. Touched her pregnant, warm belly and her soft, swollen tits. I touched her pussy.

I touched my gorgeous, glorious, pregnant Fae when I’d promised myself that I wouldn’t.

I promised myself that I wouldn’t touch her, make her all dirty.

“Isn’t that a good thing?” Pete asks from his beat-up office without me having to give him any context.