Page 54 of Lay Me Down
“You always take care of me. It’s my turn, now.”
I pick my head up to watch her yank my sweats down, taking my boxers with them, and my dick springs free. Her hair is still hiding her face, but she makes her excitement clear when she drags her tongue along the underside of my cock. My body immediately comes to life, and a static erupts across my skin.
“Holy shit…” I grip the railing behind me with one hand and fist her hair in the other. Her nails trail over my hip and around to grip my ass, while her other hand wraps around my shaft. I shudder as she pumps her fist and swirls her tongue around the tip of my dick. It’s been too long since I’ve felt her wrapped around my cock. I’m already fighting demons, and she hasn’t even taken me into her mouth. “Ashia…” I growl. “I’m going to come all over that beautiful face if you don’t slow down.”
She tightens her grip on my length as she wraps her lips around the head of my dick and sucks, making me groan. I hiss and squeeze the railing until it creaks when she flicks her tongue, barely striking my tip. As she pulls away, like the damn tease she is, she drags her nails down my ass and thigh.
“I didn’t know you only liked to paint my insides with your cum.”
Jesus. Fucking. Christ.
“You’re trying to rile me up…” I pant.My fingers massage the back of her head, and as I look to the stars again, I’m met withnothing but a grey wall.It’s there for only a second, and I barely make it out against the dark sky, but it was long enough to force me to blink a few times.
“I’m just trying to take care of you, baby.” Then she takes me into her mouth in one harsh, swift motion, making my eyes roll back. She works her throat and tongue at the same time, and I swear she’s trying to take my soul. Her throat constricts as she swallows around me. A bolt of tingly shock shoots up my spine, and I have to grip her hair even tighter, so I don’t blow too soon. “Just let me take the pain away.”
A wave of warning crashes into me, and my body locks up.
“What?” I whisper out, suddenly feeling a sting in my throat.
I look down again, trying to gauge how she’s feeling, but her hair is still in the way. Even when I pull my hand away and force her to let me go with a small ‘pop,’ she doesn’t look up at me.
“Ashia?” I call out for her, but it doesn’t come out any easier this time. Flashes of stone and dirt pulse in front of me, making me look around the balcony.
It’s gone again before I can make any sense of it. Ashia stands up and buries her face in my chest like before, evading my gaze another time.
“Just focus on me, Damien.”
“It’ll be over soon,” she whispers, but it sounds distorted, like she has something stuck in her throat or she’s sick. Silver strands move against my vision like a wave, moving from one side to the other before I can register them.
“Ashia, what’s going on?” I look down at her head again, and her straight locks remain a barrier between me and her perfect features. They whisp across my stomach as the breeze continues to glide past us, but it has an icy bite this time.
“Nothing, baby. Just let me take care of you.” She kisses my chest, and then back up to my neck like before. One of her armsloops around my neck, while the other snakes down to continue stroking me. I try to melt back into the moment, desperate to have my wife in one of the ways I’ve missed her most, but something is blocking me. I can feel her warmth against me, and I can smell her, clear as day. “I love you,” she whispers again, sounding a little more like herself.
“I love you too, little wolf…”
“Tell me how much you love me. Don’t stop until I’m done, okay?” she begs, and my stomach does a full three-sixty. Something is wrong. I go to push her back enough to just fucking look at me, but her grip only tightens, keeping me as close as she can. “Please, Damien. Just tell me.”
I bury my face in the crook of her neck, absorbing any ounce of her aura that I can as I nod against her skin. I’ve never been able to deny her, and while something feels terribly wrong, I do what she asks. I’m sure to whisper my adoration and devotion, so she hears the words that are only meant for her. She loves it when I tell her how I feel, and after a few minutes, I can’t even hear myself anymore, but she still can. Her hold doesn’t ease up, and soon, that’s all I feel. Even if she isn’t stroking me anymore, we’re right where we should be. We’re dancing under the stars, stealing whatever piece of heaven we can get.
Chapter 23
Ashia
Three Days Later
‘Deep End’ – I Prevail
Daisy sits outside as the door creaks open, and once the air whips across my face, memories resurface. This is the first time I’ve been down here since Hugo’s death, and the chill brushes against the back of my neck. I can still remember the blood. The images of Hugo’s mutilated body flash for a moment, and I can faintly feel the scrape of a knife against my chest. It makes me shiver, but I continue into the space anyway. I just need to remind myself that Hugo is dead, and we have bigger enemies now.
Right now, it’sjustanother room. Damien isn't here to utilize it, but John is. He’s been kind of doing things on his ownsince we visited Marco, and I’ve just let him. He still has some connections that we don’t, and while they probably won’t go anywhere, it’s worth a shot. It’s not that he isn’t communicating or keeping us in the loop. John just clearly works better alone, and as long as we get answers, I’m not picky as to how we get them.
John has his victim lifted by chains. His body is spread out like a star fish, and he’s pulled so tightly that I’m shocked that his joints are still in place. There are probably hundreds of cuts and burn marks along his torso and neck, but I’m not going to count them all. A chain is wrapped around his neck, and there’s a weight at the end of it, so the guy has to use his neck strength to keep it from pulling his head down and choking him.
I never thought I could see anything else that would intrigue me, but here I am, interested in the method.
Once I step inside, John turns around to face me. His shirt is off, and there’s blood splattered across his chest. He has scars of his own, and a lot of them are deep and rough, telling me I should probably never ask about them. All of his attention turns to me, and I’m taken aback by how quickly his face turns from angry to solemn.
“Hello, dear. Everything alright?” John asks me plainly, like the scene behind him suddenly doesn’t exist.
