Page 132 of A Broken Melody
“I survived a bullet. I think I can survive your tight little pussy.”
She moans, her eyes opening to look at the clock. “You still have 19 minutes.”
“Then I can fuck you?”
“Then you can touch me.” She smirks.
“You’re cruel,” I say, letting my fingers play a different melody. I just wrote this one a few weeks ago, while I was still lying in a hospital bed, but haven’t had the chance to hear how it sounds.
“That’s pretty,” she moans.
“Yeah.” I smile.
Wes likes to do most of the writing, but I’ll be damned if he doesn’t let me write at least one song on the new record, whenever we get back into the studio. Prue deserves a whole fucking discography written about her, but I highly doubt theband would allow that. Wes gets to have Abbey on the album, and half a dozen songs about her, but I’ll probably get lucky just to get an occasional song about Prue thrown in.
“Fuck,” she groans, fucking herself a little harder. “Play me something to cum to.” Her eyes zoning in on me. “Then I’ll let you fuck me.”
“You had me at play something to cum to.” I smirk, strumming a nice, sexy melody for her.
Prue and I may be two completely broken people, with a lot of damage to sort through, but there is no one else in this whole fucked up world I rather do it with than her.
After my little hint about my aunt, my mother asked me to go to therapy with her. I see no use in it, but she wants to know what happened and understand why I didn’t tell her. She blames herself, despite my desperate pleads for her to blame the only person responsible.
I told her under no circumstances would I be talking about it further and then Prue tortured me into submission. My mother has no idea my relenting to therapy had anything to do with getting to cum on Prue’s pretty little face, not will she ever. She’s just content I agreed to go.
Prue’s parents don’t speak to Cameron or her anymore. The damage of Charles’ arrest still lingers. They deny him bail repeatedly, which is smart. Daddy Davenport would have him out of the country before the handcuff indents were gone.
He has good lawyers though, and despite Prue insisting that I did not take her against her will, they are using that as motive. He will most likely get attempted manslaughter and spend a few years behind bars. Hopefully, by the time he is released, Prue and I are far from his reach, on a sandy beach, living the good life.
Prue dropped out of college, despite my offer to pay. Now she is trying to find herself and I couldn’t be happier, so long as she doesn’t find herself far away from me.
“Fuck. Ben,” she groans, her eyes focused on the way my fingers move over the strings, much how they move against her clit every time she lets me play with her.
“I love when you moan my name.”
“I love you,” she moans back, letting her eyes roll shut as her orgasm overtakes her.
“I love you too, Prue.” I smile, tossing my guitar to the side, ignoring the lingering ache, and dropping to my knees before her bare pussy.
Somehow, I’m always on my knees for this woman, and I couldn’t be happier about that fact.
I lean forward, prying her finger from her still spasming cunt and letting my tongue take over the job.
It hasn’t been thirty minutes, so she probably won’t let me fuck her tonight, but I just couldn’t take one more moment of not touching her. I’d gladly take whatever punishment she gives me for that. I’d endure a lifetime of torture for her. And she knows it.
Who knows if we will be together forever. Once her internal wounds heal, I’m not sure she will have much use for me, but I’ll never regret what I did for her, not even if Charles comes around and finishes the job. Until she chooses to leave though, I’m going to enjoy every second with her.
I’m not sure how I got so fucking lucky, nor do I think the scar from the bullet I took for her shows it, but fuck, if I’m not the luckiest asshole in the world.
