Page 101 of Pretty Little Threats

“Maybe I can have something else in the meantime?” I slip my hand under the band of his joggers and grab his semi-hard shaft.

“Rose,” he warns.

“Dare.” I kiss his neck, then whisper in his ear. “Let me suck your cock.”

“Fuck,” he curses. I take that as a yes and sink to my knees. Dare turns off the stove and faces me as I drag the pants down his muscled thighs and stare up at him. He’s already almost fully hard as I smooth my hand over him. “Rose?—”

He chokes off as I lick the underside of his length and suck his silky smooth tip into my mouth. Cupping his balls, I tease him bit by bit, taking him a little deeper and staying there, gliding my mouth up and down, savoring the saltiness of his shaft, before taking more. Dare grunts when I finally take him all the way, gagging around him. He grasps the edge of the counter.

For once, he’s not in control.

This is my domain. This is where I find my power. Hollowing out my cheeks and squeezing his cock as I bob my head, I find a steady pace and occasionally take him so deep, I almost can’t stand it.

But his desperate whimpers and needy growls when I have him in my mouth keep me going. I squeeze and tug hisballs, swirling my tongue over his tip and sucking hard before swallowing, flexing my throat around his cock.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Dare curses.

That’s fucking right.

I do it again, ignoring the way my eyes water as I push myself. I’m going to make this man fall apart. Dare’s fingers grip my hair, and he starts to thrust his hips, gently encouraging me. That caution warms me from head to toe. Since the day we got married, Dare has taken care of me. He’s never done anything to hurt me, not even now when he could destroy my throat.

Wrapping my fingers around the base of his cock, I move my hand in time with my mouth, squeezing and dragging my saliva up his shaft before sucking my cheeks even tighter around his length. Slowly, his cock begins to throb, answering my demands. He’s so close.

Dropping my hand, I breathe through my nose and take him all the way to the back of my throat, again and again and again. Right when I think I won’t be able to keep going, Dare flat out whines and his hips jerk.

Fuck. Yes.

Humming, I ease back to the steady rhythm of my mouth gliding up and down his length, tugging on his balls and stroking that sweet spot with one finger. Dare’s grip in my hair slackens, and he moans, all but singing my name and using his hand on the counter to hold himself up.

That’s right, Dare. Time for you to come for me.

Warm, salty cum hits the back of my throat, and I fight the instant recoil and swallow, taking every last drop, savoring my victory as Dare pants and tries to gather his wits. He leans against the counter like it’s the only thing holding him up.

I clean his cock with my tongue, looking up at him andcatching his gaze before placing a kiss on the tip. Dare arches his eyebrow, and I pull his joggers back up and straighten them as I stand.

A grin cutting across my face, I move into his space, placing my hand at his throat and brushing my lips over his. “What a pretty husband you are.”

He growls, but he’s too spent to do much of anything.

Knowing it’ll only add to his frustration, I say, “Now, are you going to finish making me lunch or what?” I flex my hand.

He grasps my forearm but doesn’t move my hand. “You’re annoying.”

I kiss him again, nipping at his bottom lip. “That’s no way to talk to the woman who just sucked your cock.”

“More like stole my soul,” he grumbles, pushing himself up and keeping my arm captive as he eyes the smug look on my face. “Don’t get any ideas.”

“Me?” I widen my eyes and bat my lashes. “Why, I’d never.”

He scoffs. “You, Rose Richardson, are a terrible liar.”

The use of his last name doesn’t bother me like it used to. There are people in this world that easily mold into someone else’s life, almost like they were meant to be there all along. Dare, as ugly as our marriage came to be, is my person. The name change gives me a strange sense of belonging, one I haven’t felt since my mom was alive.

Would she like him?

She loved reading fairy tales to me before bed. There was always a prince fighting to save his princess. Doing whatever it took to win her over and protect her. To give her a home.

And when was the last time I felt truly at home?

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