Chapter 91: 91. Transitioning VIII
Jericho
Hours blurred. Time lost meaning after that.
Maisie Adams was complaint when sated, however temporary it was.
She pushed me onto my back at one point, straddling me with surprising strength, her soft hands planted on my chest. "You are the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen," she declared, her fingers tracing the line running down my pectorials. Her eyes were wide and shiny like precious gems. "Perfect."
My hands bracketed her hips and she moaned when I thrusted upward. "You may reconsider calling me perfect one day, malyshka."
She ignored me completely, as she always did when the words didn’t suit her. Instead, she leaned down and licked a stripe up my throat, then nipped my jaw. "I like you, Jericho."
She had no idea what those words did to me. How they twisted the knife of obsession deeper. I let her roll her thumbs on her tits and fuck me into the mattress. It was the sexiest thing I’d ever seen in my life.
Her rich brown hair swung wild over her shoulders. They had grown an extra four inches since yesterday, now teasing her waistline. Her breasts bounced, hard. Sweat slicked our bodies.
I ground my cock again her clit. She shuddered violently, purring like a contented cat, then growled when I refused to let her come again too quickly.
When she slid off me later to crawl between my legs, she sucked my head into her inexperienced mouth and gagged on it. I came in her throat. Fuck.
"Tastes like us," she announced proudly, eyes sparkling. "Me and you. We taste... good."
Gods fucking help me.
When she finally started to tire, I carried her to the large bathroom. She clung to me like a limpet, nuzzling my neck and murmuring intelligent garble. I filled the large tub with hot water and lowered us both in.
She immediately tried to climb on top of me again.
"Malyshka, let me wash you first."
She pouted, lower lip jutting out dramatically. "No wash. Fuck."
My dick went hard instantly. It was profane when Maisie cussed, because her mouth, however smart it usually was, wasn’t one that cussed a lot.
I pressed her against the wall and her cries filled the air as I fucked her up the bathroom stall until her legs shook.
Then I settled behind her in the bathtub, lathering soap into her hair, massaging her scalp softly. I loved her hair. There was no better way to say it was mine than wash it.
She’d probably never find out that I handpicked all of her hair wash during her stay at the mansion. She’d probably think I was a creep with a hair fetish.
Wondered what she would do if she figured out that Soren had been making most of her meals.
Maisie melted against my chest with a throaty purr, eyes half-closed in bliss. "Feels good... Jericho has nice hands."
I smiled despite myself, rinsing the suds carefully. She was so soft like this. Trusting. It carved something deep in my chest.
I washed her back, her arms, her breasts with reverent care, my hands lingering. She hummed happily, then suddenly twisted in my lap and impaled herself on me again right there in the water, rolling her hips in a perfect circle.
I groaned, gripping her waist. "You are impossible."
She rode me with a single-minded focus, her arms entwined behind my neck as water splashed around us. She came with a startled cry and buried her nose in my neck, panting.
She let me take her out of the water and dry her. When the towel slid over her spine, she got other ideas.
When I told her firmly, "No more, malyshka. You need rest," she dropped to her knees on the wet tile, arched her back, and presented that perfect ass to me like an offering.
She wiggled it invitingly, looking over her shoulder with a mischievous, knowing grin. "You love my ass."
A growl rattled in my chest. She wasn’t wrong. I just happened to know when she remembered all of this, she was either going to murder me or maim me.
I stood still, knuckles white as I gripped the towel hard. "No."
Her nostrils flared. She didn’t like being told ’no’.
So Maisie Adams twisted and sat on the bathroom floor, parted her thighs so I could see every fucking inch of her. And then she ran a hand down from between her breasts, moaning softly, and my skin prickled when she drove her small fingers into herself.
Writhing, she began fucking her own hand.
I lost it.
I was on her in seconds and we had sex right there, on the bathroom floor.
I carried her back to the bed, both of us damp from the bath. I fetched her food, fed her from my hand. Fruit, bread, cheese, game. She nipped my fingers playfully each time, then sucked them clean with such innocent sensuality that my cock stirred despite everything. Belly full, she curled into me, tangling our limbs.
But sleep still fought her. She rolled on top of me, breasts brushing my face, grinding lazily. "More."
I trapped her beneath me, staring into those eyes that always seemed to mesmerize me. "Be still—"
"But you are not inside me," she complained.
"Maybe you’ve worn me out."
When I refused to move, she headbutted me. "Liar. Beast never tired." Her hand snuck down to stroke me and I hissed sharply. "See? Ready again."
Beast. The word should have chafed. Instead, it made my cock throb inside her.
I caught her waist, back bowing off the bed. "You are going to be the death of me, malyshka."
She fought sleep with adorable stubbornness, demanding kisses, demanding touches, and more importantly, my cock.
Round after round, she exhausted herself on me. Demanding. Playful. Childishly petulant when I tried to slow her down to breathe. She pouted, full lower lip jutting out, then smiled like she knew a secret when my control frayed and I gave in.
The contrast between her sharp mind when lucid and this guileless, animal need was... disarming. Endearing in a way that made my chest ache.
I wanted to keep her like this. Just a little longer. Soft. Open. Mine.
But I couldn’t.
I held her close, stroking her back, committing every inch of her to memory. The way she curled into my chest like I was safety itself. The soft, trusting sighs she released when I commanded her to sleep.
Her nose was in my neck as her words slurred, "Don’t go..."
My arms tightened around her. My Lycan inside me roared in fury as I pressed my lips to her temple, breathing her in. "I won’t," I lied.
It took every ounce of will to disentangle myself, dress, and leave her there.
It was time to share.
And suddenly, I hated it more than I’d ever hated anything.
