Chapter 33: Dead of Wynter: Chapter 32

I almost can’t tell if she’s serious or if she’s trying to push me off the very steep cliff I’m standing on the edge of. Without being able to see her tells, I almost miss the one she doesn’t know about, the way I’ve always been able to tell she’s lying to me.

Every time my little dove tells a lie, she tenses. It’s the slightest of movements, and if you weren’t as utterly obsessed with her as I am you would never catch it, even if you were holding her, but I see it.

A chuckle claws up the back of my throat, and as much as I want to stamp it down, I don’t. The smile that pulls at my lips to accompany the laugh feels out of place after what we’ve been through today, but she’s safe, she’s in my arms, if I can’t be happy about that, what on earth can I smile about?

“What are you laughing about? It’s true,” she lies again.

I press a gentle kiss to the skin at the nape of her neck. The longer I go thinking I’m not going to touch her until she knows the truth, the harder it is to stop myself from doing such simple things like this.

“You trying to get your own way by pissing me off. It’s cute.”

Now I’m the one trying to get a reaction. I’ve called her that so many times over the years, and every single time she puffs up like a fucked off kitten, and every time it makes me hard as a fucking rock.

“I am not cute,” she snaps.

“What would you call it, dove?” I place another kiss to her shoulder blade, and then several along the angry teeth marks I’ve left behind. Wynter’s creamy skin looks impossibly beautiful with my marks, and I can’t wait to cover her with so many, so often, that she’ll grow used to them being there just like the birthmark on her thigh.

She wriggles beneath me, seeing if she can get free, but she’s not going anywhere. I love having her trapped under my body, love the feeling of her warmth against me, the feel of her perky ass pressed against my impossibly hard cock. It would be so easy to slide right into her pussy like this. Unzip my pants, bring the towel up a few inches, and then sink into her so fucking deep she doesn’t know where she ends and I begin.

Maybe I’ve been going about this the wrong way. Maybe I should have come at it from a different angle and made her think everything that’s about to happen between us is her idea, but I don’t have the patience for that. I need her on my own time, I can’t afford to wait for her to make the right decisions.

I wasted eight years, and I’m not about to waste one more second with my little dove.

I lean more of my weight into her back, pressing my cock harder into her ass as I grind slightly. It’s not a part of the plan but fuck the plan. Who cares if she knows why I left, as long as she recognizes it had to have been for a good reason. Maybe I’ll never have to tell her.

It’s a nice thought, one I’ve contemplated more than a few times since I walked back into her life, but after the package that was delivered yesterday and the bomb today, all the pieces will start to fall together, and her self-preservation will take over.

When the choice is her life, or me, can I really bank on her choosing the latter?

“What were you trying to achieve with this little performance, dove?” I breathe.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Wynter whispers. “I was almost blown up by our enemies today, I think I deserve an orgasm or two.”

“If that’s what you wanted, little dove, you should have just asked.” I smile against her neck right before wrapping my hand around the front of her throat. “Why don’t you ask me for what you need, Wynter?”

I hold her with the slightest of pressure. Not enough that she can’t breathe or speak, but enough that her body squirms beneath mine, just the way I like it. All those years ago when I took her virtue and left in the middle of the night, I only gave her a taste of what I like. Even back then I enjoyed the finer things in life, like the submission of a beautiful woman.

“I don’t want anything from you.”

I smirk and tighten my hold on her throat ever so slightly. “Liar. Try again.”

“Everett,” she warns and there’s the slightest hint of fear in her voice.

You wouldn’t hear it if you weren’t obsessed with every move she makes. You’d miss it, maybe even mistake it for something else altogether. The subtle rise in the way she says my name, the little breath she lets out to steady her composure. I’ve seen her do it a thousand times. I know every single one of Wynter’s emotions, every one of her little quirks. The way her nose scrunches when she tries not to smile. The way her lips turn up slightly when she’s trying to hold back laughter. I’ve spent so many years studying her that I can recite every single one.

When she doesn’t continue, I snake a hand under her body and move to prove my suspicions correct. She’s soaking wet.

Seeing her pussy the other night as she brought herself to orgasm was one thing but running my fingers through her wetness is something entirely different. If I thought I would be able to stop before, if I thought I would pull away and keep my word, there’s no physical way I can do that now.

“Is all this for me, little dove?” I whisper, nipping at her earlobe and relishing in the way her body tightens under mine. Fuck, I could do this all day. Tease her, bite her, mark her. Over and over again until all that’s left is the writhing, soaking wet, mess of the woman I love. “Ask for what you want, Wynter.”

She lets out a stuttered breath and buries her face into the bedding, muffling the moan trying to escape. Part of me doesn’t want her to answer. Part of me wants to drag this out for as long as I can, just to make the moment last forever. It’s the same way I felt the night I allowed myself something I never should have taken. But then she takes a deep breath, I know she’s going to reply.

“I want you to stop holding back. I’m not going to break. I’m not the fragile little flower you and my brothers think I am. I sat at that table with you as you told them I was stronger than they gave me credit for, now I need you to believe your own words.”

I consider her for a moment. She’s not entirely wrong. I did say all those things, but it’s a completely different situation to put the woman I love in danger. Because the idea of living even a moment on this earth without her has a fist wrapping around my lungs and holding on so tight I can barely drag in a breath. None of what she has said matters. I’m not putting her in immediate danger. Not today. Not tomorrow. Not ever.

Wynter is the most precious thing in my life and if she thinks I’m going to put her in harm’s way, she’s going to be sorely disappointed.