Page 102 of Storm of Shadows
“Of course I made her fucking come.” I should probably tell him about the cock-sucking but I want to keep something to myself and I suspect Dray will want to pour over the details.
My suspicion is correct.
“What did she feel like?” Dray asks eagerly, stepping closer to sniff the air around me. “What did she look and sound like?”
“Wet,” I say, remembering how much arousal I’d found in her panties – a fucking treat I was not expecting.
That was another suspicion that proved correct. She may be fighting this but underneath all the hissing and spitting and claws, she wants it.
“Wet,” he repeats, grinning. “I fucking knew it!”
“And she’s noisy when she comes.”
Another thing I hadn’t been expecting. For a girl who seems to like to disappear into the background, she is noisy, messy and needy when she comes.
“I like that too.” He frowns at me. “It’s a shame you had to scare her away.”
“She’s touchy.”
“You mean she doesn’t jump and lick your ass when you click your fingers.”
I suppress a smile. She may not do those things but she did sink to her knees and suck my cock.
“She’s broken now,” I say, remembering how powerful and all-consuming her orgasm had been. “She’ll be back for more.”
Chapter Forty-Five
Briony
I wake the next day drowning in a bog of guilt.
Shadow weavers took my sister from me. I loathe them. Detest them. I hate them.
And yet, last night what I did …
I groan with shame, roll over in my bed and pull the feeble covers over my head, ignoring the clang of the tower bells reminding me I have to be up.
I brushed my teeth three times when I got back to my room last night and yet I swear I can still taste that son-of-a-bitch in my mouth. Plus, I’m a little sore between my legs and my jaw aches.
However, despite all that, I can’t deny my skin is still tingling, and my core still prickling, with electricity.
I groan more loudly. That’s the worst thing about it. I can’t deny it. I enjoyed what happened last night, even if I hate myself for it now.
It makes the guilt and the betrayal ten times worse, pressing on my chest like a heavyweight.
How could I do this to her? How could I let her down like this?
My sister would have done anything for me – anything. She was the one who looked after me, who looked out for me, who made sure I had clothes to wear, food to eat, a bag packed for school each day. This was long before the days of Muriel, back when father still worked. But without a mom to look after us, Amelia stepped into that role even though I can see now she was still just a kid herself.
When she didn’t return from the academy, I made a promise to her – I made a promise to myself – I’d discover the truth. I’d find out what happened to my sister. And what have I done so far? Nothing.
At some point in the morning, there is a light rap on my door.
“Cupcake, are you in there?” Fly whispers through the wood.
“Urgh,” I moan in reply.
He pushes back the door and creeps inside. “Not feeling so good this morning? You know the perfect cure for a hangover – fat and grease and bread, lots of bread.”
