Page 41 of From the Shadows

I’m entranced, not simply by her words, but by everything. Her swollen lips, glistening with a beautiful mixture of her spit and tears. Wild eyes. Flushed cheeks.

She wraps her lips around me again and slides down my dick, opening her throat and taking shallow breaths through her nose until she is stuffed full of me. She gives my hand one last, firm press and then slides hers between her spread legs.

Her hand moves, flicking and swirling, rubbing at her clit with furious abandon.

I thrust, and she moans.

I do it again and again.

Her head cradled between my palms as I give her what she asked for.

My hips buck as I fuck in and out of her mouth, in and out of her throat. My dick swells. It doesn’t take long though until my balls draw up and devastation hits. I’m at the point of no return, and Jess has yet to come.

I squeeze my eyes tight and try with everything I have to hold off, but I can’t. It’s too late. I shudder through my release, black spots dotting my vision. Air saws in and out of my lungs as Jess sucks the life out of me. Literally through my dick.

She sits back on her heels letting me fall from her mouth. Her brows pinch as she circles her clit, her fingers moving in a blur. The moan that spills from her lips is one of frustration; she close, so close, but just not there.

It takes stupid effort to lean forward, but I can’t leave her hanging when I’m replete with satisfaction.

Her tits are squeezed together between her arms as she plays with her clit and pussy at the same time. Her nipples are tight little points, begging for attention, so I grasp them between thumbs and forefingers and pinch. Hard.

The tone of her moaning changes for sure, but it’s still not enough.

I drop one hand to her pussy and push her out of my way. Dropping to the floor with her and shoving her to her back would be ideal, but my dick is spent and I’m working on seriously depleted brain function here. So I thrust two fingers into her tight heat, curling them toward me and tap, tap, tapping at the spot I have no trouble finding. My thumb goes to her clit as I find the rhythm that has her throwing her head back as a silent scream marks the start of her orgasm.

Her hand wraps around my wrist, neither pushing me away nor pulling me in. Simply digging in and holding tight. Her nails score my flesh, the bite sharp when she breaks my skin, but I will gladly where her half-moon marks with pride.

She rides my hand until she shudders and melts, finally boneless and spent.

My fingers make an obscene noise as I pull them from her body. “Look at what a good girl you are, making a mess of my hand like that.”

She watches through half-lidded eyes as I bring my fingers to my lips and suck them clean. The taste of her has my cock hanging heavy, thickening again. Minutes ago, I thought we’d be done for the night, but now…

I push to my feet, scoop her into my arms, and carry her through the dimly lit house to her bedroom. Not giving a single fuck about the lights left burning, I lay Jess on the bed and shuck the rest of my clothes. And then I lose myself in her until I’m fairly sure neither of us will be able to walk straight in the morning.

Chapter 17

Zhuzh

JESS

While flowers aren’t really my thing, I have to admit that the arrangements turned out spectacular. I’d have been much happier digging around in my veggie garden—sans those godforsaken legless bastards—or doing landscaping on a good day, but flowers? Not so much.

Yet, here I am, loading meticulously prepared floral arrangements into the back of my van for what I hope is an uneventful drive to the Robicheaux estate.

Weirder yet, I have a change of clothes carefully tucked away in the front seat to attend the wedding. Why am I on the guest list? It seems silly to me. But after one final check, I hop behind the wheel and take off.

Eddie left hours ago, taking Evie with him. Thank God, because juggling her as I schlepped all of these flowers from my kitchen to the back of the van would have been too much, even for me.

I pull through the gate after a nod from Gauphre, one of the guys whose work I clean up, and park at the back of the house near the servants’ entrance. Until I get things unloaded and set up—and change out of my work clothes—this is where I belong. Not grudgingly, it’s just a fact. And as Eddie likes to remind me, this is legit work to offset my less savory jobs for the family.

That’s my mini flair on those words. I think Eddie said something along the lines of this being the cleanest money I’ll ever see from Christophe. And when that man said he planned to spare no expense, he was not kidding. Most of the flowers were just out of season, and the vessels he chose to hold the arrangements were wildly over the top.

I tried.

I did the best I could.

And I might just be a little bit impressed with myself. Not that I would ever seriously consider expanding into this as a side business. I’d rather write dirty books and have Eddie help me with “research.”