Page 72 of Serpentine Valentine
“Yes, yes, yes,” I encouraged as she tightened around me, and her clitthrobbed madly under my tongue. “I want you to come and force me to lick it all up.”
That was all it took to finish her. The idea that I wanted her to control me, to dominate me. I’d never loved the idea of power play before, but with Lex, I loved it when she took me with that fired intensity. Even though I was the one making her come, we both knew it was because I wanted to please her, worship her.
Be owned by her.
She broke open, her leg shaking on my shoulder, her pussy clamping so tightly on my fingers it almost hurt. I bent my head and sucked every inch of her clean with a desperation that made me dizzy.
When she was clean of cum but shiny with my spit, Lex dragged me up her body by my hair and sealed my mouth with a ferocious kiss. She raked her teeth over my lower lip, thrust her tongue against my own until I felt like the entire world was spinning around us.
She pulled away, panting against me, and her eyes were so black they sucked me in like a hole through the galaxy. “I want to fill your mouth with me again. My flesh, wet for you, my name aching on your tongue as you beg. I want to be everything you taste and breathe and speak. I want to be the only thing on your mind because you’re the only thing on mine, and that’s the best fucking gift you could give me. Get on your back, Lux. I’m going to fuck your face now and then after you’ve made me come, I’m going to make you scream my name.”
I groaned loudly, completely uninhibited as I automatically obeyed, rolling to my back. This was different than being obedient to my elders all my life. I was taking my power back in its own way by choosing to submit to Lex. And I did it not only because it made me hotter than anything I’d ever done before but also because I knew she respected me. That she wouldn’t want me so keenly if she didn’t admire me, too. It was just who she was. She was homosexual and sapiosexual, and it made me feel like agoddess to know I satisfied both cravings in her.
When she climbed onto my face and her fingers gripped the headboard, the view up her curvaceous body was so fine it made my mouth water in anticipation.
“When I come, drink it all up,” she ordered, looking down at me with gleaming, dangerous eyes.
I sealed my mouth to her leaking sex and did exactly as she bid.
And later, when I was flat on my back with my legs over her shoulders as she kneeled on the floor and fucked me with her mouth and fingers to three orgasms, each one harder than the last, I knew with a certainty I felt in my bones that I’d made the right choice that day.
Not just to be with Lex, the girl I was perilously close to loving.
But to bemefor the first time in my life.
“I pray you do not fall in love with me, For I am falser than vows made in wine.”
––Shakespeare,As You Like It
Lex
The painof my own deception grew like an abscess in the wall of my stomach day by day. I could not hide from my false intentions when the woman I’d set out to seduce in order to destroy her mother was now living in my house and sleeping in my bed.
What a strange irony it was to regret exactly what I worked for and wished to happen.
I felt…out of sorts whenever I caught Luna’s look of loss in the moments she thought I wasn’t watching her. Staring out the kitchen window, she’d cup a mug of coffee in her hand like it would bring her comfort. Gazing into the distance at the library when we were studying as if her mom were calling to her from across campus at a radio frequency only she could hear.
The truth was, I had never felt like a villain before now.
My violence and cruelty were targeted against those who had already made themselves monsters. I could find a perverted kind of righteousnessin exacting justice against those who deserved it.
The problem was, Luna didn’t deserve this.
Any of it.
Losing her mom in an ultimatum I’d provoked.
Tarnishing her reputation because she’d confessed to being in a relationship with me.
Falling for me when I’d essentially lied to her from the beginning.
And she was, falling for me.
I knew because she was dragging me down with her.
I watched as she walked around the European Sculpture exhibition in The Met with her hands behind her back as if she were handcuffing herself from the temptation of feeling the cool marble beneath her fingertips. She was a tactical woman, always brushing her fingers over my skin, toying with my hand while she highlighted a text, rubbing her foot up my leg under the table when we went off campus one night to eat, and leaning against me anytime we sat down or stood together in a lineup.
Even on the train in from Connecticut, she’d claimed the window seat then completely cut herself off from the view by leaning against the wall to drape her legs over my lap. She handed me my copy ofThe Bell Jar, closed her eyes, pulled my left hand between the cage of her own and demanded I read to her.
