Black Bird (Nevermore Duet #1)

CHAPTER 26

CHAPTER 2 6

SUNDAY, BLOODY SUNDAY

She had slaughtered so many before him. Killed and tortured in so many sadistic ways, for so many years. Even when they begged for their insignificant lives or had little shame in showing the loathing in their eyes when she ordered them to service her in unspeakable ways … never once had she felt so—hollow. Dahlia had spent the entirety of her Saturday locked in her chambers alone. She’d refused any knocks at her door—after Decclan had left her with the ashes of her mate. The one she’d sacrificed like a lamb for her own gain. It was in the hours that followed that she’d realized, perhaps … she hadn’t needed to murder Patrick to keep the respect of her coven. She could have kept him close by. The way that she’d tighten the leash she would have on Athan Kane when he would come crawling back to her to save the life of the little gold mine that he loved. She could have done the same for Patrick … had them both.

She was starting to realize, however … that she was beginning to hate Athan. She blamed him for being the reason that she had done such a thing, and still didn’t understand why she cared so much after all these impossible years. Humanity was weakness. Love was weakness. She could afford neither. Grief would be no different. She had damned Fate and all he thought he’d orchestrate in her life. Conquered him in the worst way. She should have been happier. The small onyx urn weighed far too heavy in her hands as she leaned against the back of her bed. She would never come out of this room until she felt she could mask the pain that she couldn’t shake from the detachment that left a void in her soul so great, that a part of her undead being … died all over again.

Dahlia had never considered that hanging Fate by the neck, while simple … would be impossible to cut down. Now she would have to stare at it every day, reminded of what she’d done and all the repercussions that would come with it. His screams and burning skin replayed over and over in her mind and she fought it with every tear. The vibration of his fists on the other side of the door—she could still feel them against her back. Over … and over again.

Dahlia … please! I love you … I love you!

She had never said those words to anyone. Not a living soul. Had never meant them, and yet—yet she felt it still … that disease. That yearning. Some small part of her thought that if she snuck off to his room, she’d find him there. She’d never admit that she had made such a grave mistake … and it was far too late to change it. She was Death … and she’d played her own self.

Conrad lingered in the hallway of his mansion, pacing back and forth with his hands shoved into the pockets of his sweater. The door to the library opened, and the doctor came out slowly, waving goodbye to what was left of his wife inside, and closing it gently as he met his attention.

“I’m sorry, Senator.” His face gave no shroud of false hope. He knew what this meant.

Conrad swallowed and stared down at the antique runner that had been in every hallway of Stratford family homes for generations. He thought back to memories of himself as a young boy, running down this very rug in his father’s old home. Recalled how bad he had looked in his final days. “How long?”

“She agreed that it’s time to stop the chemo. The toil on the body during treatment is caused mostly by the treatment itself. Now that she’s taking that card off the table, it should give her a few more weeks, at least. We’ll initiate hospice care and keep her remaining time as comfortable as possible. I can have the paperwork sent here tomorrow.”

“We appreciate that.” Conrad nodded slowly. “Thank you.”

“She’s in good spirits, sir. In my experience, it promotes two very important things. Her quality of life won’t be as taxing. She’ll feel better during these last weeks. The other, is that it makes her departure much easier. On herself, as well as her loved ones. You should try to do what you can to keep those spirits up.”

Conrad’s jaw tightened and he offered the physician a tight smile. “Thanks, again.” He extended his hand, and the doctor shook it kindly, returning his smile before leaving. Conrad stood in front of the door to his wife’s library and loosed a steadying breath before entering. Her nurse was in the process of handing her a cup of hot coffee as he entered.

“Morning, Mr. Stratford,” the nurse said, smiling politely. She straightened his wife’s blanket.

Conrad smiled back at her and then met eyes with Pat. Any good spirits the doctor had seen must have been before he made his presence known. She didn’t so much as smile at him as he stepped toward her. “Morning, Patricia.”

“You look like you’ve forgotten how to eat. Trying to see which one of us can die first, Conrad?” Pat smirked, sipping her coffee in her chair.

“I’ll give you both some privacy. Let me know if I’m needed.” Her nurse hastily left the room, and he inched forward.

“Just a little stressed, dear.”

“Hmm … well? You are a politician, first and forever.” There wasn’t an ounce of endearment in her tone. He supposed he deserved that more than anyone.

“That’s not true. I’m a husband and a father, first. ”

Pat huffed a laugh, looking away from him as she drew the mug to her lips again. “You haven’t been either of those things in a long time, sweetheart. You don’t have to stay. I haven’t seen you in weeks now, anyway.”

“Pat …” His chest tightened and if she’d been looking, she might have seen him swallow down the emotion that was gathering in his throat. He couldn’t blame her for not wanting to entertain his bullshit. It’s all he’d offered her since she’d fallen ill.

“I want to see my son. Whatever you’ve done to keep him from coming back … fix it. It won’t be long now. Christmas is only a couple of weeks away. I’d like to spend my last one with him.”

“I’m not going to let you die.”

Pat stared into him, and there was silence for several minutes before she softly shook her head. “You still believe that you can control everything. You’re still so hungry for that power that you think you can keep Death from bringing down our door? Do you not understand that I want it to, Conrad? I’m tired. You can’t force this away any more than you can force our son to become someone he isn’t. Don’t make promises you can’t keep. Save that energy for when I’m gone. Use it to better yourself.”

“I never tried to pretend I was a good person, Pat. But I do love you.”

“You used to be. You used to have my knees buckling with your dreams of giving this country a bright future. I used to admire that fierceness in you, Conrad. I saw that same hope light up in Brent’s eyes when he was a little boy, and wondered what kind of team you’d both make … changing the world together. But you changed. You’re taking us all down with you, and I might be on my way out … but I won’t let you kill off what’s good and pure in that boy. You think I don’t know about the restraining order? About the marriage you were trying to force on those youngsters? I may be sick, but I’m far from blind. And I’m certainly not stupid.”

Conrad took another step forward. “Everything I’ve done has been for this family, Pat … for this family, and for you.”

“Don’t.” She leaned forward, trying to set her mug on the side table and missing it. It shattered on the floor, and she coughed violently. Blood flowed from her nose and into her lap, and Conrad surged forward.

“Patricia!”

She held one hand under her nose, trying to staunch the bleed, and forced her other hand forward to keep him away. Her nurse rushed in to tend to her and he stepped back, watching the chaos unfold. She was right. He was a piece of shit. He deserved any ill will that came his way … but she didn’t deserve this. She didn’t deserve to suffer and die this way. His wife was always the best part of him. The only good part he’d had left.

Conrad backed out of the library and shut the door, standing in front of it and breathing heavily. He needed that damn blood … and he’d do whatever it took to get it.

Sarah woke, laying against Athan’s body on the couch. Late afternoon sun warmed them through the cabin windows, and she looked up to find him peacefully sleeping with an arm behind his head, his other draped around her. She looked over at Wren, who was snoring loudly next to the fireplace. Denver was curled up against her, finally free of his carrier after Rhaena’s return to her human form. They had all slept through most of the day. Everyone had been exhausted. One, in particular, who she was desperate to see. She didn’t have to wait long. Rhaena crept out of the bedroom, hair wet, and some loose pajamas covering most of her body … although Sarah could see several large bruises on her arms.

“Hey,” Rhaena whispered, smiling at her softly. Sarah eased off of Athan, careful not to wake him, and stepped off the couch.

“How are you feeling?” Sarah asked, quietly. They met in the kitchen doorway.

“Honestly? Other than being a little groggy, I feel excellent. It’s kind of strange. I’m not even really sore.”

Sarah followed her to the kitchen counter and they both started gathering what they needed to make coffee. “I’m glad, Rhaena …”

Rhaena paused, turning toward her with the empty pot in her hand. “You don’t look glad. I’m perfectly fine, Sarah. I’m really sorry that you had to see me like that.”

“It’s not that it wasn’t hard to watch, but that’s not what’s bothering me.”

Rhaena narrowed her eyes. “What’s wrong?”

Sarah opened the coffee container, scooping the grounds into the basket. “I’m so happy that it worked. I really am. But when you passed out, I thought—I thought this was gonna go in a different direction. If you’d died, it would have been my fault. I shouldn’t have sprung it on you when you were that bad off. I should have let you decide that for yourself before you even turned last night. I’m sorry.”

The last scoop was stopped by Rhaena’s firm hand on her wrist and Sarah looked at her. “Don’t do that.” She shook her head and leaned forward. “Do you have any idea what you gave me? Do you see this?” She turned her elbow to show her the bruising that, strangely, was a pale green and yellow, and not the deep purple that she’d seen on her body at her apartment. “If I hesitated at all, I was a fucking idiot. You have nothing to be sorry for. I don’t think you could ever understand how grateful I am to you.”

“Jenkins was so adamant about you not changing anything about yourself. What made you decide to do it?”

Rhaena eased back, releasing her wrist, and filling the coffee pot with water. “Hearing him say all that just confirmed everything I wanted for my future, Sarah. Maybe he would have been okay with it … I just do n’t want him to be. What if he asks me to marry him one day? What if we decide to have children? If I didn’t take the chance of having a normal life,” she paused and sighed as she stared out the kitchen window, “then I’d never have one. I chose him. I chose him, and I’m not the least bit sorry to be rid of that part of my life.”

Sarah took the coffee pot from her and smiled as she poured the water into the back. “That’s an interesting notion,” she grinned. She could see Rhaena turning her face toward her through her peripheral. “Rhaena Northwood … married.”

Rhaena snorted and nudged her side. “Speak for yourself. It wouldn’t be as interesting as seeing somebody like Athan take the plunge. Be careful what you say.”

“Speaking of plunges …” Sarah pressed the button and slid the coffee maker back against the wall. “I’ve gotta figure out how deep the hot water is that I’m about to jump into tomorrow.”

“I forgot about that. Is Wren going home with you two?”

They both looked back at the living room. Neither Athan, nor Wren had moved at all. “She hasn’t said—wait—are you not leaving?”

Rhaena smiled and eyed her bedroom door. It was cracked just enough to see Jenkins curled up in his hoodie and jeans across the bed. “Maybe not just yet.”

Sarah raised her brows, realizing what she meant. “Oh …” She nodded.

“If she wants to go, she can take my truck. I’ll get him to drive me home tomorrow afternoon sometime. Besides, I don’t think the pigeon, or the cat, would be very pleased to ride bitch on Athan’s bike.”

They snickered, and the smell of coffee brewing started to fill up the kitchen. Athan stirred on the couch and turned his head toward them. “Can I get some of that?” He rubbed his eyes and stretched.

“He’s a pretty bastard in the morning, ain’t he? Do you not just fucking hate him?” Rhaena smirked, turning back toward the sink. Sarah chuckled.

“I heard that.”

Sarah laughed with Rhaena but couldn’t help the nagging feeling that he may have heard more than that. Deep down, she hoped he didn’t. The idea of marriage was something that Sarah may have once entertained, but after the bullshit with Brent … she wasn’t sure how she’d react if Athan ever did ask her. What they had was still very new, and she understood that if he did, it definitely wouldn’t be right now. Why get married anyway, when having a bond with an immortal being that linked their very souls seemed more intimate a thing than any wedding ceremony?

Come back … the cabin misses you.

She looked up to find him staring at her from the couch and smirking. Sarah rolled her eyes at him.

Sorry … just a lot on my mind .

He sat up and swiveled himself around, putting his feet on the floor. His hair hung down over his brow and the way he looked at her through his lashes was smoldering.

How can we remedy that?

She thought of about thirty different ways right then and there, pressing her thighs together and taking in a deep breath. Sarah turned her back toward him and started opening the wrong cabinet to find some mugs.

Get outta my head, Platelet Pete.

She could hear him chuckle from the living room, and Rhaena cleared her throat. She set some mugs down in front of Sarah and looked between them both.

“Do you two think it isn’t obvious that you can talk to each other that way? Don’t get me wrong … I’m super jealous. But if you could refrain from sexting telepathically in front of me … that would just be delightful.”

Athan snorted, and Sarah busted out laughing.

“Is that what they’re doing?” Wren sprang up to sit, her red and blonde hair sticking out in every direction, like her cat had made himself at home in it. “Oh, fucking—I wanna go home. I’m done with y’all.”

“Your head looks like it’s on fire,” Athan teased, tossing a pillow from the couch and knocking Wren in the face with it.

“I hate all of you.” Wren stuck her middle finger up and moved it around herself so everyone could see it. “I call shower first.”

“I had mine already.” Rhaena didn’t wait for the coffee to finish before dragging the pot out and filling up her mug. “There’s enough hot water for one of you.”

Sarah eyed Athan as he stood. “Go ahead, Wren. I’m gonna wait until later.” Sarah gave him a seductive smirk, and he returned it with one of his own.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Rhaena grumbled under her breath, padding out of the kitchen and into her bedroom.

Packing up to leave hadn’t taken long, but by the time they’d finally gotten on the road headed home, the sun was disappearing behind the trees, and the bite of winter was getting more harsh by the minute. Athan felt Sarah clinging tighter around his waist on the ride back and knew that this time … it wasn’t just because of the cold. A lot had changed since they’d first traveled this road, and it would continue to do so. The cover of night would be a welcome disguise when they made it back into all-seeing Boston. They’d laid down some decent plans to go about putting the Feds in their place, but it didn’t stop him from wishing that they didn’t have to do it this way. It felt like offering her up like bait in a trap. She was his only reason for breathing now, and willingly putting her into this position was eating at him more than he’d expected it to .

Wren had followed behind them in Rhaena’s truck with Poe and Denver, along with the rest of their shit. She kept close proximity, just in case, and when they finally made it to their building, they parked on the far side … a level up, where no one really ever went because there was no elevator in the parking structure. He parked the bike and helped Sarah off, then started shouldering most of the baggage and reached for Wren’s when she stopped him.

“You can leave mine. I think I’m gonna go home.”

He drew his brows, and Sarah did the same. “What? Why?” Sarah asked, setting down Poe’s cage.

“Well, one … I miss my own bed. I’m tired of sleeping on a couch. And two, I haven’t spoken to my parents, and I missed Thanksgiving. I’m gonna come up and grab my phone and then I think tomorrow morning, if you don’t need me … I’ll probably go up to Andover for a couple days.”

“Maybe that’s a smart move, anyway.” Athan nodded, meeting Sarah’s concerned stare. “At least she’ll be out of Boston.”

“You gonna stay at your place alone?” Sarah asked, stepping forward.

“Well, yeah. I live there alone, stupid.” She laughed. “I think I can survive one night without eyes and ears watching everything I do. I had cops watching me the day I shot that son-of-a-bitch, didn’t I? I’ll be fine, Sarah.”

He guessed there was no use in trying to talk her out of it, but the cautious side of him wished she would hang back … at least until they figured out what the aftermath of Sarah turning herself in would be like. In the end, she didn’t hang out long. They had walked into an unnecessary mess in his apartment. Nothing was broken, but there was shit everywhere . Every one of their phones had been taken from the drawer. Wren had decided that was enough to piss her off, and they’d had to talk her out of storming up to the precinct to get hers, otherwise they’d know they’d come home. She left right after, and Sarah spent almost two hours helping him get his place back in order. He was glad that he’d given her his journal before this happened. The junk drawer would have been incriminating with what he’d written in that book. Thankfully, they hadn’t seen it as anything else.

“I shudder to think what mine looks like after seeing this,” Sarah said, brushing a knuckle to Poe’s breast while he cheerfully ate in his roomy cage.

“We’ll fix it. We’ll fix everything,” Athan soothed, kissing the back of her neck. “Go get your shower. I’ll finish up in here.”

“You sure?” she asked, looking around.

“Mmhmm … I’m gonna call Rhaena on the burner and see if she wants me to run next door and check the apartment. Let her know we’re safe. She should probably know that Wren isn’t staying, either. And that she’s got her truck.”

“Okay.” She smirked, turning and walking toward the bedroom. “If you hurry, you could join me. ”

He groaned and watched her peel that shirt off as she walked, craning his neck as she winked at him before disappearing around the corner. He had a plan. One he’d thought about in very careful detail. Joining her in that shower, while tempting, would throw it off. For some reason, he felt nervous. Now that they were alone … it all seemed so … limitless. He just hoped it would go smoothly—for both their sakes. Hoped that it would satisfy her need, at least enough so that she wouldn’t ask him to change her, the way Rhaena had decided to change. He would give her whatever she wanted. But maybe if she chose immortality, it could be put off at least for a while.

The phone call had only lasted a few minutes, as he’d clearly interrupted something between Rhaena and Jenkins. She’d told him not to worry about her apartment right now, and that she’d catch up with Wren when they got back tomorrow night. He did go look next door anyway, finding it just as much a disaster as his own. Sarah’s small space probably looked so much worse. It pissed him the fuck off.

He found her in a towel, laying on her side with his journal open and her back facing his bedroom door. Those damp legs bent, and her knees up almost high enough to see the bottom of her ass.

“You did that on purpose.” He scoffed, stepping in and curling behind her, smoothing a hand down her thigh.

“I sure did.” She snickered, turning her chin over her shoulder and raising the journal up to his face. “What is this part about? I meant to ask you that the other day. I’ve read over it a dozen times. I’m kind of obsessed.”

He pretended to look at it and lightly trailed a finger back up to the edge of where the towel stopped. “That … is about an overnight guest that I had.” He leaned in, nipping at her shoulder. “We were rudely interrupted when some asshole called me in the middle of the night. From my rooftop, no less. Can you imagine?” Sarah snorted and rolled her eyes.

“You’re not gonna let that go, are you?”

He smiled against her bare skin. “I might … if you tell me exactly what it was that you did to yourself in that bed,” he lowered his voice into a purr and her skin stippled.

“You saw me?” she asked, her breathing picking up.

“No … but I scented it. When I left you that book.”

“Stalker.”

“What did you do, Sarah?” He trailed his mouth up her shoulder … her neck, kissing behind her ear.

“I would think it’d be obvious what I did, detective.” Her eyes fluttered closed and she leaned her head back against him, allowing him better access.

“Show me,” he whispered, licking her earlobe and taking it in his teeth. She breathed a little heavier when he lifted her knee off of the other one and raised her leg, spreading them open. He didn’t touch the spot he wanted to … not yet. Instead, he pulled the book from her hand, tossing it behind him and taking her hand. He pressed her palm against the towel and slowly guided it down her middle, stopping it to rest between her legs. Sh e bit down on her lip, and he pressed himself against her, kissing her neck again and lowering his eyes to watch their fingers slide along her slit. He took his hand from hers and gripped her knee while she continued to touch herself. “Good girl,” he breathed.

“I did more,” she whispered, circling her clit with her fingers. His grip on her knee tightened and his cock strained against his jeans.

“Did you?” He smiled, finding the scar on her neck and running his tongue over it. She took in a sharp breath and arched her back against him. “What were you thinking about?”

“You …” she choked, sliding her fingers into herself.

He sucked on her neck, unbuckling his belt, and popping his button open. “Oh? And where was I?”

Her hips started moving in time with her hand, and she moaned slightly when he gently closed his teeth on her scar. “Between my legs.”

He couldn’t stand it anymore. Her scent was strong, and her body was heated. He had to taste her. Now. He rolled her onto her back and raised himself from the bed, lifting his shirt off and dropping his jeans to the floor. “Don’t stop, Sarah … open your towel.” She did, and he took his cock in his hand, slowly stroking it while he watched her plunge those tattooed fingers in and out of her beautiful body. Athan bent down, crawling between her thighs, and pulling her hand away. He sucked her fingers clean and lowered his mouth to her inner thigh, grazing her skin with his teeth. “Nobody but us tonight, love. When I make you scream … remind me what my name is …” he purred, listening to her ragged breathing.

“Fuck …” Sarah whispered, writhing under him when he slid his canines out and dragged them lightly up her inner thigh. He finally found his way to her dripping cunt and slipped his tongue inside her, taking every bit of her into his mouth and sucking her gently. His fangs lightly scraped the outer edges, and she grabbed a fistful of his hair. How many times had he thought about this? About how incredible she’d taste, or how perfect she’d fit his mouth? In all his long years, he couldn’t fathom a single word to describe it. His tongue slithered through the folds of that soft skin, spreading her slick arousal along with it. Sarah’s body tensed and he heard a breathy moan leave her when he rolled his tongue over her swollen clit.

“You never asked me …” Athan whispered, teasing around that spot. She gripped him harder by the hair.

“Asked you what?” Her voice was strained and breathless.

“Why I didn’t bite you that night.” When she stilled, he smiled against her and raised his eyes. She slowly lowered her chin, as if she knew exactly where this was going. He let his eyes darken and sucked her back into his mouth, relishing in the way those hazel irises nearly crossed when he did.

“Dear, God—” she breathed, biting her lower lip and taking another short breath. Her eyes squeezed shut briefly, and when she opened them again, they were already glazing over in ecstasy. It wouldn’t take much, but he was gonna drag this out … purposely. Feeding on her th at night had taken her life—but it was that bloodlust that had kept him from sparing her. No human should ever have been able to survive that. But Sarah St. James wasn’t just any human. He realized that now. Her blood was powerful. After seeing it not only bring her back from certain death but witnessing how just a small amount of it ended Rhaena’s torment … breaking the skin enough to make her bleed wouldn’t hurt her.

“Tell me you still want it, and I’ll give it to you,” he purred, making an agonizingly slow stroke down her slit with the tip of his tongue. “I’ll give you everything.”

Her back bowed and she let go of his hair as she leaned up on her elbows, meeting his eyes again when he looked up at her. “Listen to me,” she said raggedly, “if I need to put ‘eat me’ or ‘drink me’ tags on it for you to understand that I wanna go down this rabbit hole with you, I fucking will. You’re—” Her breath hitched, and her hips bucked when he slid his tongue up through her and closed his mouth around the soft mound of her flesh, the sharp points of his fangs piercing her skin as his tongue bore down over her clit. Blood started to slowly fill his mouth and a deep groan rumbled low in his throat when he tasted her again for the second time. This time more intoxicating than the first. It was like the most delicious sin as he swallowed, slowly retreating and relaxing his mouth against her. Her moan nearly did him in.

Sarah’s head dropped back, and she spread her legs wider while his tongue rolled, and he drank more of her. He couldn’t stop his hands from reaching around her thighs and gripping each one to force them further apart. They were trembling … he was trembling. Every drop of her made his heart pound faster. He pulled his teeth away and let her blood slowly trickle down between her legs … between her wide-open cunt. There wasn’t a single thing about her that wasn’t positively flawless. He drew back slightly just to admire it—and then made an absolute meal of her. Athan took his time, letting that blood blend itself with every drop of the fucking heroine that seeped from her core, and then swallowing her down with deep, ravenous strokes.

Both her hands were in his hair now. Every time she whimpered, he’d lose another part of himself in her. Every time she dragged out a heavy moan, he cowered between her legs like a bloodthirsty savage being ripped from its prey. And when she came … Christ, he almost went right along with her. The sound of his name on her lips when she filled up his mouth was more poetic than anything he’d ever written in that fucking book. More dark and twisted than Poe, himself, could manage to put into words. Especially when she’d pulled him over her by his shoulders and looked at him beneath eyelids that were heavy with satisfaction and raw euphoria, and the smile on her face when she saw her own blood on his mouth … on his chin. Fuck, they were so damaged. So absolutely insane.

“Fuck me …” she whispered, kissing every smear of blood along his mouth. That sadistic smirk was so deranged … so unhinged that his cock twitched as the tip of it dragged across her lower belly. His canines involuntarily slid themselves back out and he kissed her, deep and hard, taking her by the throat and giving the same courtesy to that bloody Nirv ana that was still deliciously soaking wet. She yelped when his hips loudly slammed against hers, and he swallowed that too … along with the next one—and the one after that. He pulled one of her knees up with his free hand, kissing down her jaw and splitting her open with each unforgiving thrust until he met the scar he’d left on her neck.

God only knew how badly he wanted to do it again. If it weren’t for her determination in turning herself in tomorrow, he would have. The bite he’d left below her waist was easy to hide from prying speculation, but this … would be hard to explain. He tenderly kissed over it, but how he destroyed everything else was anything but. Her nails dug into his back, and he could scent his own blood. Athan growled, releasing her pale throat, and flipping her over in one smooth movement before slamming back into her from behind. She cried out then, grabbing fistfuls of his sheets as he took her long damp hair and wound it around his hand. He pulled her neck back and leaned against her, bracing himself with his palm over her shoulder and holding nothing back as he drove himself into her. Maybe that first bite had awakened something in her that she hadn’t realized was there … because his mate was just as much a monster inside as he was in this moment. That growl was inhuman … there was no doubt about it.

He remembered Wren telling him about it when he’d gone to talk to her that day at the tattoo shop. Now he’d heard it for himself. He fucked her faster … harder, and Sarah screamed, his name rolling out of her throat hoarsely from the angle of her neck as she violently came a second time. She shook, that milky body slackening as he unwound her hair and grabbed her hips. He slowly pulled himself from her and shot thick ribbons of himself along every crease between her legs, smearing them in with the tip of his cock before sliding it back into her quivering body. “Again?” Athan smirked, breathless and starving for more of her.

Sarah pressed her cheek against his bed and reached back to hold herself open, smiling as her eyes fluttered closed. “Fuck, yes …”