Page 77 of Love Sick

I want to die.

I smack her ass one more time as I pull out and slam back into her pussy. She gasps as her eyes close and she comes in a wild frenzy. I watch the mess I made with pride and the moment she stops convulsing around my cock, I’m about to pull out, but Luna reaches around, holding me to her.

“Come inside of me.”

I don’t need to be asked twice and do as she says with fucking pleasure. I come so hard, I see stars, but this is the only way to experience sex.

When I’m done, I collapse onto her back, supporting her by wrapping my arm under her stomach. We’re both panting, catching our breaths because it only gets better.

I gently spin Luna around and kiss her softly. “I lose all control with you,” I mumble against her mouth.

“Good.”

Reaching behind her, I switch off the water and reach for a towel. She is sleepy on her feet, and I love the look on her. I dry her off before wrapping the towel around her. I grab the other towel and do my thing, unable to take my eyes off Luna and her flushed skin.

I brush my fingers through my wet hair, realizing how long it is.

Luna is watching every movement and when her chest begins to rise and fall rapidly, my dick is instantly hard again. She smirks and reaches down, rubbing my cock through the towel.

“I always get my man hard again,” she whispers, eyes locked with mine as I forget to breathe. “Because the second time is always better.”

First, second, third…I’m not complaining because being with Luna is always fucking perfection.

I’m dressed in the simple white dress that was left for me in the kitchen. Clothes, supplies, and food were also left, which makes me think we won’t be seeing much of Alanna or Daddy unless we have to.

I hope they’re running scared because Dutch and I have proven that we’re not going to be victims. We will do what they want…only to watch their kingdom crumble around them when we burn it to the ground.

It seems strange to me that they don’t just kill us and claim it to be a horrible accident. But I believe it’s because of Alanna’s affection for Dutch that we’re still alive. As for Daddy, he clearly wants the bad press gone.

Dutch is playing piano, and I know he takes his frustrations out while doing so. It’s apparent music is his outlet and I believe he’s used it as a wall to hide behind. Music has always been there for him and been his true love since he was small.

I’ll never forget what I saw between him and Alanna, but I guess if music was involved, Dutch was torn. I know he would never hurt me, but I don’t know if push comes to shove that he would be able to do what I want to Alanna.

I don’t care if her past is tragic. Or that her childhood was disturbed. We all have a choice in life, and Alanna chose to hurt so many others for her own selfish gain. And it’s because of this that I don’t intend on telling Dutch what I plan on doing.

I don’t have a plan per se, other than Alanna being dead at the end of it.

However, I’m afraid that Dutch may have a change of heart at the last minute, wanting to help Alanna because I know him; his heart is big and kind. There’s no way he has Misha’s heart without remnants of Misha remaining.

Misha would do the same thing.

But there is no fucking way I am letting her live. And I’ll do anything, even fight Dutch until the death if I have to, to make sure she dies, and dies by my hand.

If what Dutch says is true and she has been starved of love, then I will lure her in that way. I can’t fight with hate. But I can with love.

Bobby enters the kitchen, dressed in his overalls and shoes with laces he tied on his own. I still haven’t been able to find out anything about him, but it’s clear he’s not had the best start in life. I hate that he’s here.

He deserves to be playing in the sunshine. Not hidden in the shadows.

“Are you hungry?”

He nods and climbs onto the seat at the counter.

I decide to make pancakes from the measly supplies that were left for us. And what kid doesn’t like pancakes?

As I combine the ingredients, a memory crashes into me of when I was in my kitchen at home, making pancakes for Misha.

His big blue eyes would widen in excitement when I put his pancakes in front of him. They were always shaped differently which was more fun than eating them. I can still hear his excitement when asking what his pancakes would be.