Page 40 of Hounded

“Too long.”

She nodded, and her ratted brown locks brushed her shoulders. “I’m sorry.”

I tipped my head. “Why?”

Abigail squeezed her middle harder, like she was trying to wring the bad feelings out. “It’s awful,” she said.

I thought about the cramped kennels reeking of despair, then I remembered Karst and the way he’d ogled her. In a few short weeks, she would be handed over to that demon as a pet who could meetallhis needs. A bitter taste filled my mouth.

“Why are you here?” Abigail’s dainty brows knit together. “Do you remember?”

I remembered too many things. Sometimes I wondered what it would be like to be free of them, to become a brand-new thing like Indy, unburdened by guilt and shame and, in the case of my fate as a hellhound, regret.

Manhattan, New York

June 10th, 1890

My knees rocked against the polished wood floor while I drew down deeply on Jonathan’s cock. It hit the back of my throat and stayed there, stopping the flow of air and thought. It made my eyes water when I gagged on him, and I told myself that was the reason for the tears streaking my cheeks because I was done crying about this. It was a smart choice. An inevitable one. Jonathan had money, and reputation, and a family with expectations. Those expectations included marriage and children, and I fit nowhere in that equation.

Jonathan rolled his hips, and I could breathe again. With a single, wet gasp, I went back to work, sucking and slurping to keep drool from dripping onto my suit coat.

Above me, he moaned a low note that made me ache. I wanted more. More of things it was unfair to ask for. He’d given me everything I had: a place to live, the means to afford a modest lifestyle… He’d brought me into society despite the whispers and stares.

Not many doors were open to a poor, parentless immigrant. But, with Jonathan leading me, I’d found I could go nearly anywhere. Above all that, he’d given me himself. Or whatever portion remained after his duties to his job, his family, and soon, his wife.

Jonathan cupped the nape of my neck as he guided meup and down in a steady rhythm. It was getting faster, more frantic, and his fingers dug in. I closed my eyes and hollowed my cheeks, immersing myself in the feeling of him gliding through my mouth and the sound of his voice hitching as he said my name.

His knees caged me in, quivering as he neared climax. With a final bucking thrust, he came into my mouth, coating my tongue with bitter seed. I sputtered when he pulled out with an abrupt pop. His hand slid around and caught my chin, tilting it up so he could watch while I swallowed.

Jonathan rumbled a satisfied sound, then stooped to press his lips against mine. He savored the kiss and the taste that lingered.

After pulling me to my feet, he kissed me again. He nipped my bottom lip in a pinching bite, then he stepped back and toppled onto the bed with a sigh.

“God, I needed that,” he said.

My erection throbbed needfully, and I turned away to adjust it. With my back to Jonathan, I had a clear view out the bedroom window of the brightly clouded sky. My footsteps echoed as I walked forward and stopped beside the thick, velvet drape. I rubbed the fabric between my fingers while I stared down at the lawn where wedding guests had begun to arrive.

Wooden chairs were arranged in rows facing a gazebo crowned with flowers. Everything was white and wonderful, and the perfection of it all only further soured my mood. For Jonathan, it was a beginning, but I only saw an end.

He sat up on the bed, saying something I didn’tregister before he stood and crossed the floor to stand behind me. Sweeping my hair over my shoulder, he leaned in and feathered his lips up the side of my neck. When I shifted away, he heaved another noisy sigh.

“Loren…”

Outside, seats filled and people milled. Jonathan’s mother and father greeted and shook hands with attendees. Across the center aisle, another middle-aged couple exchanged similar pleasantries with the guests. They must have been Jonathan’s future in-laws.

Jonathan lingered at my back. His hot breath rushed along my jaw.

“Loren, how long do you intend to stay angry at me?”

The windowpane reflection showed his brows shadowing his pale eyes and his lips bent into a frown.

I had no right to be upset. No good reason to gaze across the growing crowd and wonder how different this day could have been or to loathe how my life would change because of it.

More than that, it was wrong to resent the woman who had taken my place. Beatrice wasn’t to blame. The few times I’d met her, she’d been quite charming. Jonathan said it was important that I liked her; said he hoped she and I would become friends.

I didn’t wish her ill, I only wished she wouldn’t take what should have been mine.

“Do you fuck her?” I realized belatedly I’d asked it out loud.

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