Page 174 of Fixation
He groans, low and rugged as he spills himself inside me. His hips jerk once, twice before he pulls out of me with a curse.
The sound is primal, as if his climax has finally given him the release he wanted.
I’m floating higher because I gave it to him.
That it’s me who’s gotten him to fist the sheets by my head. Me, who’s made his chest heave, his body tremoring with the aftershocks of his orgasm.
For a brief moment, he stares at me, and there’s disbelief on his face. Like he can see all these things I’m thinking and can’t say.
Then he pulls out.
“Kitten. Here, let me take care of it.” His palm is on my stomach. Gentle now, trailing down my body and between my thighs. “Let me put it where it belongs.” He kisses my cheek, jaw and lips while he pushes his cum deep into my pussy with two thick fingers. “You’re going to be even more beautiful than youare now. Soon. When you’re pregnant. Your stomach swollen and stretched. Worshipped. Adored.”
The tears trickling down my cheeks to the bed? Those tears are new. They’re tears of love. Of depraved emotions that I never in a million years thought I’d experience.
I’m rewarded for them, I think. Up in the air I go. Then Anderson places me carefully on the armchair in the corner of my bedroom.
He goes through the motions of changing my sheets, being efficient and quick. In no time at all, I’m back in my bed, on my back.
He disappears into my bathroom.
When is he coming back?
When? When? When?
Oh, there he is.
With a washcloth. Mmm. This is great. Warm and pleasant on my thighs.
Anderson smiles as he wipes me clean. He’s way too beautiful for this world. He’s an evil monster. A dark enigma.
He’s a dealer of pain and pleasure and calamity.
He bleeds me dry, and I love him.
His lips on mine taste better than the most delicious cinnamon roll. I would groan, except…
“One more second.”
Looking at me this deeply has to make Anderson vulnerable. I see his anguish over leaving me.
When he reappears, he’s in nothing but his black boxers. He has an alcohol swab and a new syringe in his hand.
His hair is ruffled, lips swollen from kissing me everywhere, and holy, my drug-hazed mind is in awe of him. He’s really pretty.
“Don’t be alarmed.”
I fix my gaze on him, telling him the only way I can that I’m not.
Yes, I should. Yes, he’s a madman with too much access to toxins.
“I love you.”
But he loves me.
The swab comes first.
A sting in my neck is second.
