Page 21 of Blood & Kisses

Like a hungry animal, he presses me hard against the tree to keep me in the air with his body while tearing at my shorts. My arms clung tightly to his board and strong shoulders while combing my fingers through his hair and biting his neck, tasting salty, clean skin.

My shorts are dragged down my butt while he still manages to keep me off the ground as I yank at his sweats, trying to free his length. I’m so hot right now that my impending orgasm is brimming before he even enters me.

His cock springs out, and he enters me in one go, fills me up, and it feels so divine. There is a footpath only a few feet away that weaves through the trees and bushes, and I can see students walking by, oblivious to lovers tangled in the trees.

I bite down on my bottom lip to stop myself from moaning loudly as he starts to thrust quickly, slapping those balls, skin against skin, soft against hard, dry becoming wet.

His hips work me, keeping up the pace, drilling in quick movements, grunting and groaning as a group of students walk by cackling, and I wonder if they can see. But I don’t care. At this moment, I want this man to draw an orgasm from my body to release this tension I’ve been holding onto.

In a risky situation, dangerously close to being exposed adds to my lust and heat as my entire body hits my heights and contracts as a sigh is released from my lips, louder than I intended, and Cormac sniggers as he continues to rail the fuck out of me.

My breath hitches, and then the orgasm storms my body, causing chaos with every cell it invigorates. I bury my face in his neck, desperately trying to keep my voice down, but a sharp inhale, followed by a gasping exhale, shudders through my body as Cormac pulls out and cums all over my thighs and clit.

He holds me in his embrace, strong arms keeping me in the air, warm breath brushes against my cheek as his heartbeat thuds against my chest. Two bodies became one, and I didn’t have an anxiety attack or even feel suffocated.

Eventually, he pulls away when reality claws at our backs—classes we have to attend, people we have to contact, assignments we have to type. He gently lowers me to the ground and kisses my lips as we pull our clothes back to cover our tracks. He kisses me again as we step out from our hiding place, laces his hand in mine, and walk back to our coffee cups in the shade of the oak tree. I ignore the impending feeling coming over me.

I wanted Cormac to destroy me. I needed him to wreck me just for a while, but I still have two more men to kill, and I won’t be satisfied until they’re gone from this world.

12

Cormac is on a high, working the stove at his father’s house, pausing every few minutes to kiss my nose, cheek, forehead, or neck. He puts some music on while chopped vegetables and chorizo sausage simmer in a pan of tomato sauce and the pasta is cooking in boiling water.

“Yo!” Blake calls from the front door, and I leave the kitchen to meet him in the hall.

“Hey,” I have to get my apology off my chest before I explode, “I’m sorry for being, you know, a dick earlier…” he places a finger in my lips to hush me.

“There's no need to apologize,” he says, holding a bag. I’ve got beer and dessert.”

“Yeah, but I feel like I need to explain that sometimes I get knotted up inside, and sometimes I can’t control my emotions-”

“I get it,” he stops walking to look me in the eyes. “I get it, Rae. You don’t need to explain.”

“It wasn’t your fault I reacted like that,” I say to him.

His warm brown softens this time as he runs his fingers down my cheek, stopping at my lips. “I know why you do what you do,” he says softly, running his thumb along my plump lip, before leaning down to kiss my lips long and sweet, no tongue, just lips.

I sigh when he pulls away and licks the taste of me off his lips, lowering his hand to my backside and giving me a light smack. “So, we’re okay?”

“Of course, Rae,” he states firmly. “C’mon, sure smells good in the kitchen. What’s my boy cooking up?”

“Pasta in tomato sauce…” I start as we walk into the kitchen together, and the urge to discuss Gavin the Pig rattles me, but the boys start talking about the mechanics of my silver hatchback, class, food, etc. Every topic flies about the room except the one we should be talking about.

Blake hands us a can of beer each, and when there’s a pause in their mindless conversation, I decide to raise the subject, “The pig.” Blake gulps his beer while leaning against the counter as Cormac stirs the sauce and sausage. When silence falls, I add, “We need to talk about it.”

“You wanna talk about pork?” Blake says, smirking.

“Is that a joke? Because if so, it’s not that funny and rather predictable, actually,” I protest, making his smirk grow wider.

“Okay, bacon, then,” he croons, gulps his beer, swallows, squeezes the can in his hand, and basketball shoots it to the trash can and misses.

“Missed,” I point out, sipping my beer. “Can we talk about the elephant in the room now?”

“Elephant? Not a pig?” he smirks, enjoying irritating me.

“Well, no, because the pig is dead-”

“Roasting on a spit,” he adds, cocking his eyebrows mischievously, and I cringe at the thought of it.

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