Page 20 of Death By Chocolate

“Yes, yes, keep fucking me.” But he doesn’t. No, he fucking rotates his fingers, drilling new territory in my pussy, marking me with his teeth, his tongue.

My back arches up off the mattress, and I orgasm on a scream. It’s his name, not a heavenly deity, I shout. He’s still eating out my pussy, last mealing the hell out of me. Overwhelmed and overstimulated, my body is tingling and my mind is blank. Fuck, I can’t even remember my name. But I damn sure won’t forget his. I beg him to stop. “Xeno,” I moan.

Suddenly he grips both my thighs and my ass is lifted off the bed. Then he thrusts his tongue deeper into my pussy, drinking me down, a distilled spirit from his private collection.

“Oh shit,” I breathe.

My heels are pressed into his back. He’s shoveling my pussy into his mouth, forcing me to ride his face. The sounds are moist; loud, and satisfying. How have I never been fucked this good? He’s showing how good this thing between us is, that it can’t be denied. Just when I think it can’t get any better, he pushes his finger deep into my ass. My tight rose resists the invasion, but Xeno doesn’t stop. He presses, stretching me until I whimper, panting through the discomfort. Slowly he retreats, and then—he plows back into my ass robbing me of breath. The bite of pain drags me over the edge, and I gush my sticky cream down histhroat. I give him what he wants—my surrender. “Oh, oh, ooooo, Xeno,” I scream his name.

“My bad girl,” he whispers into the night. Hmm, I like that he acknowledges my gift, my willingness to let him use my body. He’s pleased, the gleam in his eyes as wicked as what he’s doing to me. I can barely lift my head, but I manage a shaky smile. That’s when he comes to his knees, whips out his thick cock, grips the shaft, and begins milking his rod from base to tip.

“Fuck,” I gawk in awe at his magnificent dick. Thank heaven for the city’s nightlife. He jacks himself hard, the way I imagine he’ll fuck me. His breathing speeds up. Air blows in and out of his nostrils. His dick pulses, the veins more pronounced, and then his body goes rigid. A roar echoes in my apartment before thick ropes of his hot jizz hits my thighs, my pussy, my mound.

“Oh fuck,” he bellows. “Want to be inside you.”

Oh-my-goodness, I’m so turned on. I want to fuck him. Right now, gunshot wound be damned. My spasming pussy agrees. Xeno crawls up the bed. He hovers above me. The city lights illuminate his handsome features. A hint of a smile crosses his lips, but his eyes burn. My juices glisten on his face. I like him covered in me.

Panting, I raise up on my elbows. We’re bathed in light and shadow, and it’s beautiful. He lowers his head, his mouth inches from mine. I know what he wants. Slowly, I extend my tongue and lick across his mouth. His grunt of pleasure is the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard from a man. I do it again.

“All of it,” he commands.

I do exactly as I am told, loving the taste of me and him on my tongue. It’s erotic, licking him clean. Will he want me to suck my cum from his cock after he’s fucked me? I’d do it. I’ve orgasmed twice, but my pussy spasms demanding more attention. Once I’m done, he grabs my head, tilting it back, kissing me.

“So fucking good, Chocolate.” By the smug expression on his face, he’s happy with himself. “Next time I nut, it’ll be in your mouth.”

I know I won’t resist, can’t dig deep enough in my bag of reasons to stop this. He pulls the covers over us. His hand is on my belly rubbing his seed into my skin, making him a part of me.

“I’m here. Nothing's going to hurt you."

If only he knew. But as he settles beside me, careful to avoid bumping my injury. The tension I felt has been sucked from my body. Xeno’s steady breathing becomes a lullaby. And for the first time since Omar's threats began, I feel something dangerously close to peace.

Still, as sleep claims me, I can't help but wonder, how long can I keep my secret? How long before Omar destroys this, too? And most dangerous of all—how long can I keep fighting this magnetic pull between Xeno and me?

His hand finds mine in the darkness, fingers intertwining. And despite all my fears, all my reservations, I hold on tight.

9

DANI

DAMN IT, MANDY

The air in The Governor's rooftop training center is thick with the scent of sweat and rubber mats—an odor that's practically the perfume of my morning grind. It’s a little after ten o’clock when I step through the arched doorway behind the reception area, the familiar sound of grunts and thuds fills my ears.

“Sounds like you this morning,” Xeno whispers in my ear. A shiver snakes down my spine at the reminder of how he drank from my pussy like an explorer plunging into the Fountain of Youth. He’s at my back, a mountain who makes me feel protected and delicate. Not that anyone who knows me would agree…but, maybe Xeno would.

“I’m working, remember?” For five years, I’ve come to this very place alone. His being here—with me, is a statement. The question is, am I ready for the world, that being The Governor and its residents, to know that I’m with Xeno?

“I do. I dressed you.”

A process he took great pleasure in prolonging as he lifted my foot, one at a time, easing my panties over my ass, to cupmy pussy. We argued about me wearing my lace front wig and an arm sling. He likes my natural hair over the headdress of my uniform.

When I told him it was my decision, he threatened to bend me over his knee. I snatched both the wig and the velcro contraption and put them on. “Don’t remind me,” I murmur.

Training is in full session, and I'm here for one purpose: to spar with Cookie, my trainer and a constant since my arrival at The Governor. Silvio had hand-selected her to minimize my weaknesses and enhance for physical strengths following my escape. Xeno is beside me now. I glance up to spy him mean-mugging any knuckle-dragger who looks up from their workout to acknowledge my presence. A couple of the guys from the security team wave, Rhys isn’t one of them. Beside me, I hear Xeno grunt.

“No dick swinging,” I whisper. He grips my neck and kisses me, pushing his tongue deep until I whimper in surrender. Stretching, I angle my head in his direction, wanting to taste more of him—the smoothie we shared over breakfast, the sweet burst of the fresh pineapple he quartered and served me. Too soon, he pulls away, a spark of mischief dancing in those dark eyes.

“Say less,” he grins before patting my ass with his hand before heading to the only available bench press machine in the left corner. “Stay close.”

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