Page 47 of Absinthe Dreams
He grunts a curse, pushing all the way in before he stills. His head kicks back, his expression fierce as he falls apart above me, his cock pulsing as rope after rope of his sticky seed spills into me, making a beautiful mess.
"Mine," he rasps, dipping his head to claim my lips in a deep kiss. "You're fucking mine, Chloe."
"Yes," I whisper back, not even trying to deny it. I am his in every conceivable way.
Chapter Ten
Chloe
The next two dayspass in a blur of sex, laughter, and reconnection. We spend a lot of time just curled up together, talking about everything and nothing. It's healing in a way I never expected, like we truly are shaking off the dust and reclaiming pieces of who we used to be.
But we aren't those kids anymore. The differences are subtle but obvious. Trystan is as protective as ever, but he's still bossier than he was as a kid. Once upon a time, I resented that.
Now, though? Well, I guess I'm seeing things a little more clearly for once. He never told me what to do because he thought I wasn't capable of making my own decisions or choices. He told me what to do because it was the only time I wasn't actively trying to ignore him. If I was pissed, at least he knew I still felt something for him.
Emotion isn't always rational, and we aren't always smart. But it feels good to finally be in a good place again. There are no secrets between us, no festering resentments. We're just…together.
Well, there is one secret. I still haven't told him that I'm in love with him. He hasn't said it either. We dance around the words, rushing toward them only to spin away at the last second, like we're both afraid of what happens once they're out there.
I still want to guard this new peace close, keep every part of him and my feelings for him as my own. I don't want to give the world a chance to intrude or interfere. I get the feeling it's the same way for him. So we don't rush it. But I think he knows exactly how I feel, exactly what I haven't said.
I see the same truth reflecting back in his eyes in quiet moments when we're curled up together, or when we're laughing together. Or when he's inside me, burrowing his way into my soul with his rough hands and filthy words.
I wake up on day three to find him still in bed beside me, his eyes closed. He's peaceful when he sleeps, soft in a way that's fascinating to me. He's always been this sunspot in the center of my world, so much larger than life to me. But right now, with his eyes closed, he's just…beautiful. So damn beautiful.
He mumbles my name in his sleep, and my core ignites. I want to wreck him while he's like this, ruin him the same way he does me every damn time he gets his hands on me.
I inch down the bed, moving slowly so I don't wake him, and then slip beneath the covers. Even asleep, he's half hard, his cock pointing toward me like a divining rod.
I arrange myself carefully between his legs, my mouth watering.
He stirs slightly when I wrap my hand around his shaft, stroking. His hips buck into my hand, an impatient sound on his lips as he hardens fully in my hand. I fight a smile, leaning forward to lick around the head.
I know the moment he comes fully awake. I hear the way he groans my name, so gritty and raw.
I plunge down on him in that exact moment, taking him to the back of my throat.
"Ah, Christ," he growls, shoving the blankets back. "Christ, Coco. That feels so fucking good."
I flick my gaze up at him to see him watching me with his eyes at half-mast, his expression somehow soft and feral at the same time. His hand plunges into my hair, impatiently moving it out of his way.
"Keep sucking me, princess. Just like that."
As if I need encouragement when he feels this good in my mouth. I lick all around his shaft as I bob up and down, reveling in the hard heat of him in my mouth and the way he groans praise and pants curses.
His hips move in restless, greedy circles.
I'm so caught up in him, I don't notice Thanos at the end of the bed. I hear his soft warning growl, but it doesn't register. Neither does the door creaking open.
I'm oblivious right up until Trystan tenses beneath me, and I hear the one thing I never expected.
My brother's voice.
"What the fuck?" he roars.
Trystan immediately grabs the blankets, yanking them up over me as he tries to slide out from beneath me. His dick falls from my lips with an obscene plop.
"Wyatt, shit," he growls, scrambling from the bed in a flurry of movement. Within seconds, he's yanking a pair of boxers up his legs. And I'm just…frozen.
