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When I let her up again, she gulps air. “A little warning would be nice,” she says.
She doesn’t tell me to stop, though. That’s my girl.
Dried dirt coats her face, and my balls ache when I think of tears cutting a path through that dark layer. Eighty doesn’t cry, though. If I want to make this happen, I’ll have to push her body to an extreme to bring it out of her. With enough external stimuli, she’ll weep.
I pull my belt from the loops, wrap it around her neck, and draw it tight. Her face reddens. Kane is going to be mad at me for marking up his product, but I want those tears to flow. I pull back my hand and slap her cheek. As her mouth opens and closes wordlessly, tears spill from the corners of her eyes. I keep releasing and tightening the belt until her cheeks are soaked.
“Good girl, eighty. Cry for me. You know how I like it.”
I push inside her, and she clenches around me with every strangled breath. I hold the tail of the belt, intermittently choking her as I fuck her senseless. She can’t even make a sound as her beautiful face reddens above the ligature. I want to hear her moans and whimpers, so I rip the belt from her neck. Her chest drops to the soil as she catches her breath.
“Dirty, filthy whore,” I growl as I thrust deep inside her and hold it, savoring her warmth. I place my fingertips over her clit and rub her. “Such a good girl deserves to come, right?”
She nods as I lean down and bite her shoulder. I swirl my fingers around her and pound against her as I fuck her harder. She takes me so well.
Her hands drop to the soil and her fingers curl into the ground. She’s getting close. I feel it. Who comes inside a grave? Both of us, I guess, because her impending orgasm is bringing me closer and closer to my own.
Aurora’s body rushes forward as she tries to escape the pressure of my cock. She gushes all over the earth and the front of my pants. What a way to christen a gravesite. This is a new one for me.
I pull back her hips and bury myself deeper again. Her walls pulse around me as she comes down from her orgasm. I pull out of her and spill my come on her filthy, muddy flesh. When I’m finished, I push her forward and lick her clean. Earth and sweat glide across my tongue, mixing into a gritty symphony, but I’m not done yet. I fist her hair and lick her fucking tears, adding a bite of salt to the mixture in my mouth. Then I spread her lips, spit the dirt-coated come into her mouth, and follow up by pushing my muddy fingers to the back of her throat.
I stand and circle her, staring at her face. “You’re so dirty. Filthy fucking whore.”
My hand winds through her hair. My other hand pushes my jeans down my thighs. She lifts her body as if she’s preparing to suck my dick, but that’s not what I want her to do. Instead, I keep my hand wrapped up in her hair and turn away from her. I lean over the lip of the grave and spread my legs a bit. With a smirk on my face, I drag her toward my ass and bury her face between my cheeks.
“Eat my ass, eighty. Bury that dirty fucking face and eat me like I ate you.”
I expect her to fight me, but she leans in. Her tongue slips from her mouth and grazes my asshole, and my fingers sink into the soil. Pleasure rips through me as she tongue-fucks me. With each movement of her warm mouth, I harden more because she’s pleasing me in a way so few have.
God, I love this girl.
I wrap my hand around my aching cock and stroke, bathing in the intensity of the sensations behind me. The sounds, the feeling—it’s all fucking euphoric. She’s sloppy about it too, and that makes me want to fill her filthy mouth. I let her lick me until I’m close, then I rip her away from me and pivot toward her.
“Open your mouth,” I command.
She spreads her lips, and I stroke the head of my cock against the tongue that worked me up to this moment. I fill her mouth, grip her hair, lean her back, and spit on her waiting tongue.
“Swallow.” I watch her throat as she swallows all of what I’ve given her. “I love what you do to me, eighty.”
She sits back on her ass, eyes wide as she stares up at me. She knows that’s as close as I’ll come to saying I love her, but the meaning is the same. Somehow, some way, Jax and I have to save her.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Kane
I’m back behind the wheel of the truck. We’ve reached Arkansas, which means Tobin or Jax have been with her for a while. I can only assume they eventually dumped the body in the grave. There’s no way I’ll ask her about it. Not when she looks so satisfied. Like a cat with a saucer of milk, she just sits there with a smile on her face as she stares out the window. Her hand drags lazy strokes through Pup’s fur.
Tobin. Jax. Pup. They all adore her. How will they feel about me after I sell her?
I shift in my seat and tighten my grip on the wheel. There’s something genuinely wrong with me and I’m surprised I can even recognize the doubtful feelings inside. I just know that it’s nagging me to the point of discomfort.
She looks over at me, and the smile drops from her face.
“Hey, Kane,” she says.
A feeling stirs inside me, deep within the crater that once housed a heart. She recognizes each of us. She doesn’t think we’re crazy for having three minds in one body. Instead of being a judgmental asshole, she acknowledges our differences and our situation. Instead of calling us names or accusing us of fabricating what we can’t even control, she accepts us as we are.
Well, she accepts Jax and Tobin. She still doesn’t care for the things that make me who I am. Or the lack of the things I could never be.
