Maid For The Mafia by Alice T. Boone

Chapter Eight

Hope was a silly thing, really. At 10 o’clock, it was stupid to think there’d be an answer in the fridge. I’d opened it twice in the past five minutes, each time hoping for a different result, but nothing had really changed. No matter how many times I opened the damn thing, I was still alone. No matter how many times I opened the damn thing, Terry still didn’t appear.

The anger didn’t really hit me— not even as I packed our dinner away for the night. All I really felt was worry. He should have come home three hours ago, and without a single call or text, I couldn’t help my imagination. For all I really knew, Terry could be dead in a gutter somewhere, and I’d have no one to blame but myself. A monkey could tell me I’d dug my grave. A few good hookups were hardly grounds for a relationship, and I had no right to be disappointed in him. This was his life, wasn’t it?

Terry was good at anger, aggression, aversion.

So why the hell did I expect him to be good at anything else?

My hum didn’t calm me down. Even after the house quieted, after the lights in the kitchen darkened, I hadn’t been able to crawl up into my bed. Two hours I’d been planted in the dark, sitting on the counter as though it was the only home I’d ever known. The truth was, it was getting harder to sleep without him. Terry was only in the city on business a few times a week, and every trip left my chest tightened. We’d gone from chasing each other around the house one day to completely avoiding each other the next. The relationship was supposed to be at its best in the first few months, wasn’t it? So then, how come I already had two cancelled dinner dates on my agenda?

When the door creaked open, my head snapped to the side. While the shuffling of shoes could have been anyone in the world, that growl of frustration could only be Terry’s. The sound that so often signaled danger could only fill my chest with relief— at the very least, he was well enough to be his regular snarling self. Through the dark, the man shuffled into the kitchen, stripping out of his jacket and working the dimmer switch for the overhead lighting. Though, I didn’t need the light to see the annoyance etched into his flawless features.

How did someone that beautiful even find something to get angry about?

When his eyes finally landed on me, all he could feel was confusion— something that fed this hole in my chest. From my place on the counter, I crossed and recrossed my legs. It was bad enough to be ignored. Somehow, it was worse to know you were forgotten about entirely.

“This what you do when I’m gone?” Terry shuffled forward, tossing his jacket on the counter and loosening his tie. “Lurk in the dark?”

“I was just picking away at dinner.”

Again, his brow furrowed. Terry quickly crossed the room, snatching a beer out of the fridge. “Kinda late for that.”

“Maybe,” I hummed, watching him gulp at his drink. “I got stood up.”

All at once, the mobster froze. If he was annoyed before, this thing was eating him alive now. Another hiss fell from his mouth, and as he slammed his drink onto a nearby counter, his free hand tugged at the ends of his hair. The snarl didn’t come from his chest until he drew closer to me, placing a hand on either side of my hips, his arms pinning me in place.

“Fuck.”

“It’s okay,” I hummed again, finally earning his attention. Terry’s shoulders wouldn’t soften until I gave him the smile he needed, the nod to assure him. “It happens, Terry.”

Anger melted into disappointment, and his eyes scanned my face. His gaze rested on my lips as a mumble fell from his lips, looking for the faintest hint of my frown. “Something came up.”

This time, I didn’t have to watch him to catch the beast beneath his skin. Terry sucked in a breath as I slipped off the counter, wedging myself against his chest and between his arms. It didn’t take long for me to realize Terry’s world boiled down to basic needs, that he had grown addicted to those immediate reliefs. A rough night at work meant he’d come home and lure me into a dark corner, his head between my thighs before I could even ask what was wrong. Though, as I pushed my way out of his grip and towards the fridge, I steeled my will.

Eventually, someone would have to give him what he needed instead of what he wanted.

“I can’t go into detail.” His voice came dry, tired, as he watched me open the doors to the fridge. Strangely enough, the once-barren land now offered the answers I was looking for. Terry’s eyes burned into me as I started to unload the cold remains of our forgotten dinner. “This shit just—”

“It’s alright.” His mouth snapped shut as I handed him a Tupperware container, confusion wrinkling his nose. “Better late than never, Terry.”

Twenty minutes ago[EC1] , the quiet of the house was eating me alive. Now, I was grateful to be wrapped in silence. While Terry tugged a stool over to the counter, I made myself at home on the marble. Terry’s chef made a point of fixing his favourite Italian dishes— something that really only tasted better with age. If he had arrived three hours ago, had kept his promise to me, we could have enjoyed it hot, lit with candles and wearing something nice. Though, somehow, I think I preferred it this way. I liked the skipped dishes, liked the way we ate directly out of the plastic. I liked my messy bun instead of the intricate curls I had struggled with that afternoon. I liked seeing Terry in his natural state, after the world had worn away his defenses— even if that’s when he hated himself the most.

To the world Terrance O’Brian was good at hiding his emotions. Coworkers saw the hardened exterior, fools equating anger to power. When we were alone, though, Terry was getting easier to read. Whatever chewed at the back of his head was forcing his lips apart every few moments, ego snapping them shut a moment later. The only time he seemed to break out of his trance was when I finally poked at him with my fork, shooting the man a playful wink when I met his glare. My smile relaxed his shoulders back down, brought back that grin I craved.

“I’m sorry,” he finally spit, adjusting his seating before he turned his attention back to his meal. “I’m not very good at this.”

“Don’t need to be good, Terry. I just need you to try.”

His hiss pulled us out of a makeshift comfort. “The fuck is that supposed to mean?” When his eyes jerked back up to me, I watched him struggle between the worlds he knew. Part of him wanted a fight, I was sure, and when he was only met with gentleness, he did his best to relax. Another moment brought his mumble of an apology— a sound that told me to push forward.

“You seem angry.”

“Yeah? How the fuck is that different from any other day?” His chuckle seemed anything but genuine, his shoulders not completely falling until he threw back another mouthful of that awful craft beer. “I found out tonight that one of my—” When he caught sight of me, his mouth snapped shut. Another growl came from him, another chuckle, and then he gave way. “A guy I left in charge at the construction company hired a very young independent contractor.” The confession seemed to bring a new spark of reality to him, and Terry focused back down on his meal. “Like I need more of that shit.”

“You don’t let young people join?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“What do you mean ‘why’?” Terry hissed. “The kid was practically Jemma’s age. How the hell are you going to commit to this shit at that age? They think this is glamorous. One failed course at a community college and they think the only option is to—”

His anger didn’t soothe until he caught the look in my eye.

“Work in construction?” I finished, waving my hand through the air.

Terry’s grin was reward enough, but even that wouldn’t be around for long. Much like Terry himself, his good moods were fleeting. While these mafiosa would never admit it, their loneliness spoke for itself. The lifestyle was exciting, I was sure. Women, money, carnal desires met in an instant, every itch scratched with a new type of high. Though, it did little to hide the ghosts I had seen. This life meant there was a piece of you that could never be shared— not if you were smart.

“When did you start?” I asked, focusing my attention back to our food. “In the construction industry.”

“Officially? 25, probably.”

“Unofficially?”

“16.”

“Jemma’s age?”

Terry wouldn’t respond, but the twitch of his fingers was answer enough. Terry would never categorize his life as sad. He’d list off his accomplishments, his wins, his gains. Though, his silence whispered the truth. It wasn’t really fair to be thrown into this mess at such a young age, to be forced to pay the price for the rest of your life.

“Dad didn’t even think I needed to graduate,” he hummed, stuffing another forkful of noodles into his mouth. When he caught me watching him, he struck his fork towards me, punctuating his next statement. “Jemma’s going to school. These kids are going to school. If they wanna come to me after that, then fine.”

I was certain the warmth that filled my chest now was the same one that filled a hunter’s when he finally caught his prey. Hiding that truth, that shard of humanity, was probably years’ worth of work for Terry— a secret I’d discovered only now. Another piece of him fell into place, another piece I got to keep.

When he caught my smile, he nearly choked. “Don’t give me that look, Selina. You’re giving me too much credit.” His attention tried to focus back on his food, jumping to me a moment later as the first signs of embarrassment tinted him. “They’re just too high of a risk to keep around at that age,” he tried to explain. “It’s a business decision.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Yeah?” he choked. “Why does that not surprise me?”

Truthfully, I wondered if I believed in Terry more than Terry believed in himself. Within the dark, I watched him adjust to this new role of vulnerability, of honesty. It would take another few mouthfuls of food, another half can of beer before he finally straightened his spine. Once that laser focus was on me, I felt my footing shift. The world between us stopped.

“You lied when Travis asked you where you were from. Why?”

Under his watchful eye, I didn’t think it was possible to lie to him— no matter how much I wanted to. A hum left my lips as I tried to come up with an answer that would be good enough, shifting my attention to the food in front of us.

“We met once back in Toronto,” I stated, honestly. “Just hoping to avoid some drama here. If he doesn’t recognize me, then I’d rather keep it that way.”

“How did you get here then?”

“That’s kind of a long story, Terry,” I chuckled, laughter only dying when I caught the seriousness in his expression. Resting my fork on the countertop, I crossed my arms over my chest. “I only started working for Jackie a year or two ago. I needed the cash and I borrowed from the wrong guy.” When his eyes still wouldn’t budge from me, I spit out the only silver lining I had left. “Took me a year, but I got it paid off.”

“Is that why you left?”

My lips parted, ready to spit out the lie I’d been rehearsing. Somehow, my conscience was synonymous with a tightening throat. Where the hell were you supposed to go when a lie wasn’t possible, when the truth wasn’t ready?

Settled back into my seat, I offered the only statement that felt right: “No, that’s not why I left.”

If anyone was going to understand the need for time, the hesitancy that came with acceptance, I had a feeling it would be Terry. His eyes scanned my face one last time before he nodded his head.

“Another grand to you for the plane ticket,” I started, counting the amounts on my fingers. “Another few for OSAP, and $200 to my aunt and I’ll be debt-free.”

As he started in on his food again, Terry’s brow wrinkled. “You don’t have to pay me back for the ticket, Selina.”

“It’s for me. Tired of feeling like I owe the world something.”

“What did you go to school for?”

This time, it was my chance to chuckle, my opportunity to freeze up. “Not really important,” I tried. His focus told me he’d never accept that answer. I nodded my head, grateful the low light wouldn’t highlight my darkening cheeks. “Photojournalism,” I admitted. “It’s harder than just taking some pictures, as it turns out.”

“Would you finish it?”

“If the timing was right,” I hummed. “I had to drop it once things got too rocky with Jackie. If things were steadier, I’d probably consider it. Can’t really afford to throw good money after bad right now. I’ll settle down somewhere, get some stable work— no offense— and then I can look at it. Not before.”

“I’ll pay.”

Even though his blank expression threatened to melt my heart, I shot him a playful glare. “I wouldn’t like that very much, Mr. O’Brian.”

For the first time that night, I earned a genuine smile from him, a hint of laughter in his chest. And maybe that would have been enough— if he hadn’t’ve caught the grin tattooed to my face.

“You know, I have a theory you might actually be a sensitive man under all that grizzle.”

“Careful, Selina,” he warned. “I’ve cut off men’s tongues for less.”

“Oh, you’d never cut off mine,” I sang, earning another smile. “I haven’t even shown you what I can do with it.”

* * *

The first time that awful noise echoed through the house, I wasn’t sure I’d even heard it. The second time, when it echoed through my chest, I wasn’t sure I could ignore it. My body jerked upright before I could remember where I was, confusion gripping me a second time as I settled into bed, alone and in the dark. The quiet strained my ears, but within the dark, I could make out another bang, another creek down the vacant hallway. The air in the house had grown too thick to swallow. I could feel that tug at my marrow when Terry told me to stay in my own room that night, could feel it again when Jemma checked her phone every 15 minutes. It was a tug that reminded me of the danger that came with the O’Brian house, the O’Brian name.

This time, when the bang filled the hallway, it came with the snarl of a beast I didn’t think I’d ever recognize. My body moved before I could give the fear another thought. Bare feet padded along the floor, an oversized t-shirt the only thing to protect me from the chill that had taken over the house. Quiet brought me to a pause at the doorway, but before my head could talk me back to safety, another growl pushed my heart forward.

The only thing waiting in the hallway was darkness. Pitch came with a cloudless night, and as I stepped into the dark, I kept one hand pressed against the hall. My vision didn’t return until I’d stumbled out to the area that overlooked the entryway and the main staircase. The slightest light from the moon painted a picture that had been living in my head for months. Muddied boots were kicked off halfway up the stairs, a dark jacket tossed at the landing. Dark handprints painted a trail along the wall, along the bannister, and the scent of copper in the air twisted my stomach. Most of all, though, the light had a way of picking up the thing I wanted to see the least, the wide eyes of the girl at the far end of the hall.

Jemma was in hardly any clothing at all as she peeked through the crack of her door. Panicked eyes looked out at me through the dark, and for just a moment, I wondered if those were the same eyes that were terrified of monsters in her closet just years before. It would take another moment of panic before I realized that the thing she feared, the monster that lurked in the house, was anything but a stranger. It would take a snarl, a sound of pain, from Terry’s room to push us both into action, and when Jemma let out a weak plea, I felt my chest collapse.

“Don’t!” Her cry froze my muscles. “Selina, he’s just—”

When a sound of alarm strangled her plea, my head jerked to the side. A faint sound came from inside Jemma’s room, something loud enough to pull her attention behind herself. The dark had a way of making things blurry, but even then, I was certain my bones knew. As much as I’d try to explain it away, I was certain that she turned her head to hiss at someone, that she closed the door another inch just so I couldn’t see inside. Before the shifting of my feet could pull me towards her, though, another sound pulled us both away. Whatever had happened, all I really knew was Terry was hurt, and when his cry cut through the fog, my body lunged forward. A sound of protest from a girl still scared of her father forced a look behind myself as I reached for the door.

“It’s okay.”

“Selina.”

“Go back to bed,” I hissed. “I can handle this, Jem.”

When I disappeared behind Terry’s door, my confidence disappeared with me. In front of Jemma, I could remind myself that the man capable of atrocities was also capable of love, of compassion, of kindness. Jemma had a way of reminding me that the animal who crawled up the stairs was still human, but when she vanished, all that remained were those flecks of doubt. When the scent of death filled my head, those truths had never felt further away.

The darkness wouldn’t be able to hide the stench of blood. I wouldn’t look down to the dampness that coated my hand, to the sticky substance left on the doorknob after Terry had clumsily tried to lock it behind him, but the nausea came on just the same. The only light to fill the room poured out from under the shower door, but steam only seemed to make it worse. Everything smelled of an awful rot— the kind I didn’t think a hot shower could ever cure. His name sounded foreign on my lips. When another sound of pain came, I lost the only security I had.

Thick steam made it impossible to see much of anything within the bathroom. Bright lights raised bloodied hands to my eyes, and in the corner of the room, I could make out the pile of clothes Terry had left the house in that evening. It wasn’t until I caught sight of the bloodied prints around the counter, of the dismantled first aid kit in the sink, that my stomach really twisted.

“I told you to stay in your room.”

My head snapped to the left, desperate to catch a glimpse of the man before the beast ate him entirely. “Terry, what’s going on?” My shoulders collapsed when another snarl of pain came from behind the frosted glass. “What’s wrong?”

Another hiss came with the shifting of water, and for a moment, I pretended I didn’t notice the red pooling by the drain. As soon as I made my way towards the door, a growl snapped my hand back to my chest. It was the same sound, I decided, that must have kept Jemma pinned to her bedroom, the same sound I’d be unable to ignore.

“Go to bed.” My jaw stiffened, my stomach knotted, but my heart pushed forward. I squeezed my eyes shut as I pushed open the shower door, Terry’s grip crushing my wrist a second later. “Selina.”

When my eyes opened, steam had stolen my breath altogether. The heat had washed most of the blood off his skin, his hands, but something sick still matted his dark hair. His side, the muscles he had worked so hard to carve, turned to a swollen and bloodied mess— something he’d sewn back together with sloppy stitches. But I wasn’t sure it was the blood that had collapsed my lung. Most of all, it was that awful look in his eye that tore away at me, that stole the quiet Terry once brought. Beneath scalding water, his breath came out in heavy pants, and when I caught sight of the darkness in his gaze, I worried it was the beast that looked back.

He was watching me. I didn’t think he’d ever stop watching me.

“Terry, what the hell—”

“Go to bed, Selina.” Another snarl of pain, another gasp for release, another way to remind me of the man beneath the scars. When my shoulders caved around me, Terry’s jaw tightened. Water cascaded down his body, and as the heat danced over his wound, Terry hissed out again. “I just need you to go to bed, alright?”

It was only when that hint of desperation came that I found the strength to step forward. The slightest movement relaxed his grip on my wrist, and as I stepped into the water, into his world, everything else seemed to numb. When my eyes were on his wound, I wouldn’t notice the way my soaked t-shirt clung to my body. When they drifted up to his frustration, to his concern, I wouldn’t notice the way his fangs aligned so easily with my neck. Before Terry could snarl out another defense, a careful hand brushed his stained hair from his forehead.

Finally, I watched him relax.

“What happened?”

A hiss of frustration was the only answer I’d really need. The second that sound woke me up, the second I saw his prints on the wall, I knew what had happened. It was the same tragedy that had fallen a hundred men before him, that would haunt another hundred after. Casualties were just part of doing business to men like Terry— a principle I knew all too well after working with Jackie. Still, to see him hurting, to see him coated in his own blood, a hiss didn’t seem like a good enough answer.

“I just need to sleep.”

“Terry, you need—” When his tongue darted over his teeth, when his eyes fell from me, my heart plummeted. He needed medical attention. He needed something more than an alcohol-soaked needle and a shaking hand to stitch his side back together, but things with Terry had never been so easy. If I wanted him to rest, the last thing I needed to do was push him more. My lips pulled to the side, and with a tight chest, I forced out the only response he seemed to be happy with. “Fine.”

Soft notes had a way of softening always-tense shoulders, and finally, his defenses fell. Terry relaxed under the stream of scorching water, and when a growl left his throat this time, it was only to let the tension out. My body wouldn’t move again until I watched him wince after attempting to run his fingers through matted hair. After spending so long alone, so long with creatures of the dark, I wasn’t sure Terry entirely knew what to expect from humans anymore. When I reached past him to get the soap, darkened features mixed with confusion. Even as I squirted his shampoo in my hand, as I worked it into a lather in his hair, he had a hard time finding peace. A smile wouldn’t grace his lips until I had already rinsed the suds from his hair, until his hands had found their way under my soaked t-shirt.

Though, that smile just brought a whole host of problems.

It was impossible not to cave to him, but if anyone was a match for Terry, I was certain it was me. Bergamot overpowered the scent of dirt, of death, as I worked his soap into a lather in my hands. While his hands worked to pry me out of my shirt, I kept my attention on treating every piece of him with the care he needed. As my palms ran over his tired muscles, his fingers brought a new excitement to mine. Terry’s lips were on me in a second, a gentleness on my cheek that pulled out a chuckle I couldn’t help. It was only when his fingers dug into my waist that things seemed to shift again. I should have snarled out when he slammed me back against the shower wall, should have scolded him, should have screamed for his sake. Instead, my mind went blank with his lips on me, with his cock pressing against my thigh. An entire evening without his attention had been too much for me, and as worry mixed with need, hunger overpowered my every sense. My arms wrapped around his neck, my leg creeping up along the shower wall, but as I felt his head at my entrance, my body froze.

“Terry, wait.” I wouldn’t let the growl scare me into submission, wouldn’t let the way his head teased along my entrance tear my attention away from him. Fucking Terry was all I wanted to do. Part of me had to believe that making him cum was the only way to ease his pain, but the voice in my head had never been so lenient. “You’re gonna rip your stitches, and I can’t carry you out of here.”

His frustration hissed against my lips, but stilled muscles had a way of calming him— for now. Terry allowed his forehead to rest against my temple, and slowly he relaxed into me again. My hands returned to gentle circles against his hardened back and in time, Terry’s hands found their way back to my waist. His gentle touch wouldn’t be broken until my hands moved too low, until soap got too close to the wound I’d been desperately trying to avoid. Pain shot him upright, and when an apology slipped out of my mouth, Terry shot me a dirty look.

“Just tell me what happened, Terry.”

His teeth bared the first time the answer was going to come out, a bark to be lost forever in the steam. Terry’s attention jumped back to the sliced flesh, fingers prodding at the wound before finding the courage to speak again.

“You already know what happened.” When I wanted to fold my arms over my chest, they wrapped around his torso instead. His voice wouldn’t soften until his lips pressed into my hair. “I tried to handle something alone. It clearly didn’t work out. It won’t happen again, Selina.”

“I don’t believe you.” The murmur against his skin earned a dark chuckle. “Jemma needs you, Terry.”

“I’ll find someone to manage the docks,” Terry groaned, his hands working their way up my back. “Micah’s gone. There’s no one besides me that can handle it right now.”

“Travis wants to work.”

The name had a way of stiffening every muscle in his body, of having the man forget about the stitches tearing at his side. “Travis is the reason I’m in this fucking mess. Prick can’t even be bothered to show up and I’m supposed to hand him more responsibility?” Steam swallowed his hiss, his anger, and when the quiet was all that was left, Terry settled again. “I can handle this. You just have to be patient.”

I wanted to say something. I wanted to hum out that I believed him, that I was certain he’d move aside the second a stand-in came along, but maybe I knew Terry better than that. Nothing in Terry’s life was as easy as he made it out to be. Even then I knew there was no way Terry would hand the docks over to someone if he didn’t trust them completely— a trust I worried could never be earned. Terry didn’t see himself the way I saw him, and a painful shower was just another way to remember that.

When words wouldn’t be enough, I planted a gentle peck on his cheek. “You should sleep.”

Showering with Terry had never been a simple thing. On mornings I awoke in his bed, it was impossible to slip in without his hands all over me, without his grin pressing into my neck and his cock buried deep inside me. To lead him out of the shower now was an entirely new challenge. After wrapping a towel around myself, I was careful to dry off every piece of him before turning to treat his side. I worked in silence to dress the mess Terry had left, applying ointment when he let me, but the danger didn’t come with the risk of infection. The trouble only came when I finally noticed that painfully serious look on Terry’s face— the one that came when he saw me on my knees in front of him, the one that kind words wouldn’t be enough to bat away.

My eyes narrowed playfully. “You’re going to hurt yourself.”

And air of pain gave me the only edge I’d ever have around the mobster. As I straightened, a quick step back putting distance between us, I tightened my towel again. There was no way to avoid his grumble for something more, but as I made my way back into the bedroom, the last thing I was worried about was Terry’s appetite. The light of a new day was filling the room, and while the bathroom might have smelled of soap and steam, the bedroom still felt like a graveyard. Terry’s bloodied handprints littered the walls, the furniture, and my stomach twisted again.

“I don’t need you to worry about me.”

Straightening, I tried my best to hide the shiver his voice pulled down my spine. “All I do is worry about you.” As I threw a grin over my shoulder, my legs weakened. Terry rested against the doorway, a gentle grin on his lips as our eyes locked. “Terry, you’ve gotta rest.”

Looking at him was only going to lead to trouble. Spinning on my heels, I turned my attention back to the room ahead. I was certain that somehow, the only plan I could think of was going to get me through the rest of the morning. I’d throw on one of Terry’s dry t-shirts and spend the next few hours in bed with him, making sure he got the rest he needed. Then, I’d sneak back to my room to change before tackling the mess left in the entryway. If Jemma stayed in her room until noon, I might have had a chance to air out the stench of blood before she came down for breakfast. It was meant to be easy, but as I made my way over to the drawer, as I felt his wet body pressed against me, I realized the only thing the plan had really left out— Terry.

When his lips grazed my ear, when his hand worked its way between my breasts and around my neck, my thighs tightened. “You want me to rest? Then don’t fight me.”

His left hand moved to my hip, moved to press my ass against his hard cock, and I forced out the only words that seemed to make any sense at all. “Terry, please.”

The plea only seemed to push him further. The slightest hint of resistance, of a challenge, brought a dark chuckle to my ear. “Don’t fucking move.” The order stiffened me— muscles only relaxing when I felt Terry’s hand dip lower along my body. A quick tug pulled my towel from around me, and with Terry’s right hand around my neck, I was pinned to his chest. It was only when he was certain of my complete obedience that his left finally drifted to my core, that his fingers brushed against where I needed him the most.

A shudder ran through my body as his fingers danced along my slit, and with every needy jerk of my hips, the mobster ground against me tighter. When his name fell from my lips in a tired pant, Terry’s right hand shifted down to my breasts, every playful pinch of my nipple sending me back against him. As his growl filled my head, his heavy breath against my neck, my legs weakened. His fingers dipped inside of me, and as another shudder brought another moan, I felt the world shift again.

There was no care when he flipped me around, no gentleness when he pressed me back up against the dresser. That awful dark had returned to Terry’s eyes, and as he hiked one of my legs around his waist, his lips capturing my own, I tasted a piece of him I didn’t think I’d ever taste. For a moment, for a night, he needed me. My excitement coated the head of his cock as he aligned us, and just as my moans danced along his tongue, a new sound pulled us apart again. His hiss, his curse, pulled me out of the haze Terry brought with him, and guilt pooled in my stomach with a single glance at his side.

A jerk of his hips had soaked the bandage on his side, sending ice through my veins. His face twisted into a grimace as he examined the damage he’d done, but as I tried to drop my leg from around him, Terry held me in place.

“Terry, we’ve gotta wait until you’re—”

“I don’t wait.”

A rough shove pushed me back up against the dresser, and while I wanted to cry out for peace, Terry’s lips muffled any chance I had left. His hands would only run along my body for a second, my excitement still slick on his fingers as they dug into my hips. Whatever fight I had in me left as Terry’s lips made their way to my neck, to the space between my breasts, along my stomach. By the time he settled between my thighs, an expert tongue running teasingly along my slit before pressing a sloppy kiss against my thigh, I almost cried out. White washed over my vision as he started sucking my clit, as two of his fingers plunged into me. When his fingers curled, when he brushed so easily over my g-spot, the gentle mewl that came from my lips brought a growl from his throat.

“There you go,” he hummed, another series of kisses along my thigh sending me further into the dark.

His pace quickened before I had a second to adjust. Teeth nipped playful against my clit, sending my hand over my lips before his hum brought me back to a shuddering mess. Though, it wasn’t until I felt his hand move off me, wasn’t until I noticed the way his hand drifted to his cock, that I felt my stomach knot. The moment he felt me shudder, Terry’s hand returned to my thigh. A tight grip kept me in place as I tried to smother another moan, as his fingers curled, as his lips buzzed, as my body washed entirely in warmth. The last things I heard before my vision died out entirely was the sound of his name on my tongue, the grunt of release that came from beneath me.

When the world threatened to fall apart, Terry was next to me again. Soft lips met me as my arms wrapped around his neck, and as his tongue explored my mouth, I wondered if there was anything sweeter than my taste on his tongue. As I tried to pull him closer to me, Terry’s grunt of pain filled my mouth, and the world coloured in completely.

“Shit.” My hiss pulled us apart, my teeth sinking into my lip as I glanced back to his side. “Sorry, Terry.”

“It’s fine,” he hummed, his grip on my chin holding me in place for a peck on the lips.

As a shiver ran over my system, reality tugged at the corners of my mind. All at once, the room had a way of hitting me— the excitement dripping down my thighs, the cum on the carpet, the blood that still soaked the walls. Though, the grimace on my face wouldn’t last long. A quick peck on the lips brought me back to him, brought me back to the place I was meant to be.

“This place is disgusting,” I hummed against his lips.

“It’s fine,” Terry grinned. “The maid will clean it up.”