Page 74 of Heart Sick
Her resolve has me going against my better judgment, and I pull the car into the gravel parking lot. Before I can ask what’s going on, Luna gets out of the car and makes her way toward the small window where an attendant sits, smoking a thin cigar.
I never take my eyes off her, and although I know this is a bad idea, I’m curious as to what Luna has planned.
She returns a moment later, key in hand. “Room ten.”
I pull into a parking spot in front of the room, and we quickly make our way inside. I lock the door and sigh because this is a fucking disaster waiting to happen.
When I hear the bathroom door close, I sit on the edge of the bed and interlace my fingers through my splayed legs. I have no idea what Luna is thinking, which seems to be a common occurrence lately. I rub over my chest because I suddenly feel like I can’t breathe.
Each day is worse than the one before it, and I wonder if I’ll ever be able to play music again because, at this rate, I don’t see myself surviving much longer. I’m losing grip on reality because this life isn’t one I want to live.
I must have fallen asleep because I wake staring up at the ceiling. Who I see peering down at me has me launching upright, certain I’m dreaming. But when I look into those blue eyes, I realize this is no dream.
“Luna?”
She grins, and I almost come at the sight.
“What do you think?” she asks, running her fingers through her hair, the hair which she has cut into a bob style and dyed black.
I’m speechless and that’s because I’m moments away from throwing her onto the bed and kissing that fucking sexy mouth of hers which is slathered a bright red.
“They’re looking for us, so I figured we have to not look like us.”
She’s right, but I can’t focus on anything other than my need to lick her from head to toe. She looks different, and the urge to protect her is still there, but now, I want her how a man wants a woman in every possible carnal way there is.
I like that she looks different. Not that I didn’t like the way she looked before. But his heart doesn’t seem to recognize this version of Luna, and I like it. She’s now mine and not his, which makes no sense.
“Say something,” she nervously says, running a hand over her tight black dress. “I just thought—”
But I don’t let her finish.
Wrapping my hands around her waist, I draw her toward me. I smell the vanilla soap she used as well as the cherry lipstick she wears. I want to fucking destroy her, in the best possible ways. She’s used makeup to conceal her injuries, but I still need to be careful.
“It’s a very good idea.” I don’t fail to notice her ample breasts rise and fall quickly with each hasty breath she takes.
“I have another…” she confesses, tonguing her upper lip. “The strip club…meet me there in half an hour?”
“Why?”
“Trust me,” she replies and bends down, placing a gentle kiss to my mouth.
I want more, but she pulls away, leaving behind her cherry-scented kisses. The moment the door closes, I fall onto my back and let out a frustrated groan. My dick is so hard, so I decide to have a cold shower because going into the strip club can only mean trouble.
Showering was supposed to help, but all I can smell is the vanilla soap which Luna used on her body, a body which is wrapped in pure sin. Standing under the spray, I give in to temptation and grip my cock. My hand is a poor substitute for Luna’s, but the thought of her jerking me off has me almost coming.
Images of that mouth which she applied a bright red lipstick to has me pumping my shaft faster. I imagine fucking that mouth with my tongue as I grip her freshly dyed black hair and kissing her without restraint.
I then think of fucking her mouth with my dick. Crude, but I think Luna would like it too. I am not a gentle lover. I’m passionate and impatient, but I also like to tease. But with Luna, I know I’d be her fucking slave.
The water acts as the lubrication I need to wildly pump my cock, desperate for a release. Luna is all I think of—her mouth, her laugh, the way she smells.
Jesus fucking Christ.
I remember her perfect breasts. I tried so hard to be a gentleman, but I can’t be one a second longer. I need to own her. To mark her. To make her mine. This new look has aroused a monster, and I’m afraid of what happens when it is fed.
But it’s not just her looks. It’s her. It’s everything that she embodies. Her strength. Her convictions. The water sloshes frantically, a reflection that I’m seconds away from coming and it’s going to be messy. I think of the many times I felt a connection so deep, it felt as if I knew her in a past life, how sometimes it feels as if we’re connected in a way which makes us one.
The thought of being buried deep inside her has me slamming my fist against the wall while, with the other hand, I stroke my cock frantically until I come with a guttural groan. My orgasm tackles me so fiercely, my legs almost buckle out from under me.