Page 44 of PortCity Killers

“You’re always going to be my good little girl, no matter what it is you do. You could kill a million Collins, and I would still love you just the same.”

I froze, my breath in my chest clogging my airway.

Goddess help me, how many times had I wanted to hear those words come from his mouth–wanted to whisper them onto his naked skin? Here he was, not murmuring them in the dark, but speaking them out into the world in broad daylight.

He lowered his head to me, his lips biting gently at my belly, a low growl building in his chest as I stared at him.

My mouth gaped open and closed, the words right at the tip of my tongue, but it felt like a fever dream, like if I told them this would all dissolve and disappear. I didn't want that.

“Do you have something to say to me, babygirl?”

I swallowed hard against a lump, nodding, “I want to.”

“Only say it if you mean it, baby,” one of his hands came up to my throat, squeezing, “What do you want to say to me?”

His hand on me felt like a weight keeping me tethered to this world. The warm comfort spread through me enough to stutter out the words I kept clenched between my teeth for years–afraid they might implode and ruin the only good thing I had on this plane of existence.

“I love you too, daddy. I’ve always loved you.”

He pressed his thumb a little harder, making me whimper. He rubbed his hair against my stomach, his nose just barely brushing against me. His hot breath teased before he gave a long lick up my chocha. The metal in his mouth knocked against my clit.

I cried out, the buzzing in my head making my eyes roll back with a curse.

“That sounds so fucking good coming from your lips.” He gave me another long lick that had my hips bucking into his face, “Say it again.”

“I love you, daddy. I fucking love you so goddamn much it hurts.”

He nodded into me, his tongue ring catching against my clit again, cool and heavy, as he buried his face between my thighs.

My sounds were small, mangled as my hands clutched into the couch. I wiggled against him, unable to stop myself from grinding into his face.

“Keep talking,” he said around my clit, “Tell me what else happened.”

My moan was cut off by his fingers, before he lightened the pressure. He held me tightly still, but I could speak without losing myself to the feeling of blank numbness behind my eyes.

One of my hands found his free one that was clasped around my waist, and he held it, his grip the grounding force I needed to tell him. He was here. He was solid, and he was with me.

He loved me. Nothing else would matter, not with the way he looked at me as he ravished my pussy the way he was.

“When I was done, we were alone-” He sucked down on my clit, the metal of his barbell rubbed against the hardening nub in a way that left me shaking, moaning. “Valentina made me crawl to her.”

He hummed against me, and I squeezed his hand, my eyes squeezing shut. “I bet you liked crawling to her, didn’t you?”

“No,” I gasped, but he fucking knew me too well. He bit gently down, making me close my thighs against his head, “Yes! Yes, I liked it.”

He let go of my hand, his finger coming up to my clit.

He carefully avoided the sensitive little bundle as his thumb circled around it, rubbing gently against the hood. My hands, desperate for something to hold onto, grabbed his wrist where he held me pinned to the couch.

“I crawled to her. She made me crawl through his blood and then she made me–goddammit daddy,” he slid a finger inside me, curling it roughly, chuckling against my chocha, “She made me suck Don’s dick.”

He added another finger, slowly pushing into me, making room in my body, “What a dirty little whore you were, trading your body for your life.”

“Yes,” I panted, “I was a good whore, daddy.”

“Such a good whore, so good. Did you like being used like that?”

He shifted now, his mouth coming to mine in a rough kiss. He dragged me by my throat to him, his tongue dancing with mine, his fingers plunging inside me. My body was a live wire, jerking and snapping at his touch.

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