She puts both hands on my head now. To encourage me. And I take one nipple into my mouth and suck on it, nipping at the tender skin once or twice to make her gasp. I squeeze the other one and then her back bucks up a little and I smile.
She grabs my shirt and pulls it up my back. I pause my attention to her breasts and lift my shirt over my head, tossing it into the corner of the bedroom. Then I resume as she fumbles with the button on my tactical pants. She gets it open, pulls the zipper down, and then she makes a fist around my cock.
I was already getting hard, but the moment her palm squeezes me, it’s done. I’m ready.
But she’s not, so I forget about my desires, and my dick, and stay focused on her.
Being this close to Wendy Gale—well, let’s just say I’m the only one who gets this close to Wendy Gale. She has instincts. Chek did this to her. And whatever—he did what he thought was best, but still, he did this to her.
It’s dangerous to be this close to Wendy.
Everything about intimacy is a trigger for her.
But I’m careful. I know how to keep her calm.
And she wants this, or trust me, I wouldn’t have gotten this far.
Wendy Gale has tried to kill me five times since I met her nineteen years ago and three of those happened during sex even though we started out just like this—easy, slow, and nice. She was angry. Not about the sex. Our fights have nothing to do with sex. Or feelings, really. She just gets angry about things. And I don’t blame her. My job is to kill people like her. Why would she ever trust me?
She shouldn’t, and she knows she shouldn’t.
But she does anyway.
She hasn’t killed me though. That’s the important part. And not just because I didn’t let her. She doesn’t want to kill me. She wants to love me.
“Keep going.” She senses my hesitation and I fucking hate myself for that. “Please don’t stop.”
I grab her breasts again, kissing and sucking on one nipple while I caress the other one into a tight little peak. She bucks again. Her hand is pumping my cock now. Her breathing is picking up and when I glance up to look at her face, her eyes are closed and her mouth is open.
I lean up and kiss her. I can’t help it. Her tongue crashes into mine and then she’s grabbing my hair and I’m mostly on top of her, and I know this is pushing things, but when we get here, to this place, every single time I lose interest in living. I just want more.
We writhe on the bed, her hands on my face as we kiss. I slip my fingers down her shorts, right between her legs, and she gasps into my mouth. “Keep going. Keep going,” she begs.
I have no intention of stopping, but I take a breath and ease us down again using soft, slow fingertips over her clit. She hisses, arches her back and draws up her knees to give me better access.
I push a finger inside her and she holds her breath. It’s enough to make her come. Wendy is easily pleased in the sex department. She gushes over everything I do to her. But even so, I want to do more. I want to make it all special each time.
“Oh, God, Nick. Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.”
She has nothing to worry about. I push her knees together, then slip her shorts and panties down and over her legs, tossing them into the corner with my shirt. Then I open her up again. I spread her knees wide and position myself between her legs and watch her face as I lower mine down to the smooth, soft skin on the inside of her thigh. Every time I find myself in this position, I have an overwhelming urge to bite her. Not hard, or anything. I just want to nip that skin and make her yelp a little.
But I don’t. It would ruin everything if I did.
Instead I kiss and suck my way up her inner thigh as my fingers part the lips of her pussy so that when I’m out of leg my mouth can cover her and my tongue can slip inside.
She’s moaning, “Oh, shit. Oh, shit.”
She likes being licked, so I take my time here. She comes, maybe even twice, but she never gets tired of sex. We don’t have enough sex to get tired of it, but even if we were getting it on the regular, I don’t think we’ll ever get tired of sex.
I know I won’t. I want to possess Wendy every minute of every day.
Her hands grip my hair, urging me to keep licking. Like she’s reading my mind and this is a gentle hint that I’m thinking too much. I twirl my tongue around in a slow circle, then nip her, just a little, with my teeth.