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I hold her every twitch at the mercy of my fingertips.

“Wick,” she gasps, arms wound around my neck. She presses her forehead to mine and rolls her hips. “Please…”

I don’t need the plea, though. Not with the way she’s biting her lip and grinding down, chasing the pressure of my hand, nor how wet she is, her pussy gushing around me. I know exactly what she’s searching for, and I know exactly how to give it to her.

I push my thumb against her clit, my other reaching up to graze her nipple.

And then, gently, I pluck the pebbled peak.

Her mouth falls open on a cry that I swallow with a kiss, feeling her clench and flutter around me. Verity orgasms so sweetly, never scratching or bruising, only sobbing these clipped, agonized breaths as she rocks her hips. I feel her body tense and twitch, the way her shoulders jolt in surprise at the sensation, and it’s enough to send me right along with her.

I grip her hips and hold her tight, giving her no reprieve as I slam up into her body one last time. It flows through me like liquid warmth, and when I bury my face in her neck, it’s not even because I want to hide.

I just need to taste her skin as I fill her up.

I can’t even count how many times I’ve emptied my balls into this girl. I’m sure somewhere in this house, there’s a ledger with a tally, and even it wouldn’t be accurate. Thirty? Forty? Fifty?

None of them hold a candle to this one.

I come like a rumble of thunder, clouds crashing to release a ray of white-hot light behind my eyelids. Through it all, I feel her fingers in my hair and her lips on my ear, her soft whisper leading me back.

“You feel so good,” she says. “Perfect…”

Something in my chest tangles up at the words, though I don’t know why it should. Plenty of women have told me that. So why is it that, when she does, her voice released on the cusp of a sigh, it brings a lump to my throat?

I think I understand when I roll us to our sides, finally catching a glimpse of her flushed, blissed-out face. Verity isn’t looking at me like she wants to consume me. There are no teeth or sharp edges here. They weren’t just words someone says for the sake of the moment.

It was praise.

It takes a long moment for my throat to unlock, and I have plans, however vague, to tell her how fucking amazing she looks right now, all fucked out and euphoric.

Instead, I blurt, “I ate your banana pudding.”

She pauses, blinking. “Youwhat?”

“You were in the dungeon,” I explain, a touch defensive. “It was going to go bad. I ate it.”

Her jaw drops, but the outrage is all artifice. “I can’t believe you!” Her eyes narrow. “Did you like it?”

I make a face. “Of course not. It was disgusting.” Tapping her hip, I add, “So the next time you get some, you should give it to me. Save yourself the trouble.”

She snorts. “Oh, really.”

Smirking, I push a kiss into her collarbone. “Absolutely. I’m falling on grenades for you left and right here.”

She hums, tipping her head to the side. “You can fall on one for me now by taking a nap with me.”

“Can’t,” I say, idly lapping up her sweat. “Have to get dressed so we can go downstairs. I need to show you something.” I can practically feel her heart rate kick up a notch, so I’m quick to assure, “Something good.”

Looking skeptical but so fucking soft, she agrees, “Okay.”

* * *

I takeher down via the passageway in the wall, holding her hand as I lead her down a narrow, dusty staircase.

“You always take me to the best dark and dank places,” she mutters. But her hand squeezes mine, and when we pass the turn that leads to the basement, her palm grows clammy.

“I learned a long time ago it’s easier not to run into Father or Danner in the house.”