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“Careful.”
Ajax shoves in, then retreats all the way out. Over and over, he does the same thing. Fast in, slow draw out.
I’m kneeling before him, mud covering part of my thighs, the wet T-shirt tickles my upper legs, bunching at my hips. My tongue sticks out, waiting for him to slide back in, and I’m panting.
“I come. You don’t,” he orders.
Stepping closer, Ajax frames my legs with his feet, and his strong hands still my head. He fucks my mouth, his cock bumping the back of my throat over and over. I struggle to breathe when his hips are flush with my face.
Closing my eyes, I take what he gives me.
Pain and pleasure blur, entwining until they’re one. This is the way it is with him every single time. And just like before, I’m practically crying with need. My body sings for him.
Disappointment and pride fill me when he gives a final gasp and a long groan. His cum shoots out, filling my mouth. It’s thick and tastes bad. The thick liquid leaks out of the corners of my mouth and down my chin.
“Do not spit,” he hisses.
My eyes widen, and I shake my head.
No, no, no.
Ajax pulls his cock free, but his hand slaps over my mouth. I try to turn my head away, but he moves with me, and I’m forced to swallow it down.
Satisfied that it’s gone, he releases me long enough to tuck himself away. His hands grab under my armpits and lift me to my feet. My cries have turned to hiccups.
“Never leave my DNA somewhere that’s not that RV,” he orders, grabbing the bottom of his T-shirt I’m wearing.
He raises it, his hand pulling until he can use it to wipe my face—first my cheeks and then my mouth. The smell of mud and him fills my nose.
“Go back inside and shower. Leave this shirt on the bathroom floor, and I’ll clean it with the rest of my clothes.”
“Where are you going?” I manage through my hiccuped breaths.
“To finish what I started before I was gloriously interrupted.” He grins, his eyes trailing lower to where my bare body is on display for him to see.
With one final wipe to my cheek, he drops the edge of the top and kisses my mouth.
“And don’t even think about touching that pussy. You don’t come again until I say so.”
I hate him. I hate him. I hate him.
I chant on the way back inside, but I don’t, and that’s the fucking problem.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Lulu
“I want to match again,” Mary declares, running into her dad’s bedroom.
“Mary Louise, that door was closed. You know better,” Ajax reprimands, pulling a shirt over his head. “Try that again, please.”
“Aw,” Piglet pouts.
“Do not encourage bad manners.” He points at me from across the room.
“I didn’t say anything,” I defend, raising my hands.
“No,” he agrees, “but that smile of yours says it all.” He squints, glaring playfully and making my smile widen.
