Page 152 of Caution to the Wind

“Come all over my cock,” I told her. “Let me watch you break apart around me. So fuckin’ pretty when you come hard on my dick, Rocky.”

Tears squeezed out the corners of her closed eyes as she wrenched her head back on a silent scream and started milkin’ me with her convulsions.

“Oh yeah,” I grunted, drivin’ in to take her higher and higher. “Never seen anythin’ more glorious than you takin’ every inch of me and lovin’ it like this.”

“Please,” she cried out, still comin’, but spiralin’ softly back to earth like a feather caught up in a current. “Want to feel you come. Paint me with it.”

Lightnin’ raced down my spine so hard, I almost blacked out as her words filtered into my brain. My balls tightened, my gut clenched, and seconds later on a groan that was torn from my fuckin’ soul, I pulled outta her warm, wet pussy and spilled my seed all over it.

She twitched and moan as each hot splash striped her sensitive folds and when I was finally done, squeezin’ out the last drop and smearin’ it with my cock head over her clit, she reached down to collect my cum on one finger and brought it to her mouth. She hummed as she licked it off, and even though I’d just spent myself, my cock twitch in a valiant effort to harden again so I could fuck her there too.

Instead, I sat back on my heels, lifted her hips onto my thighs and watched up close as I rubbed my cum into her folds, paintin’ her there like I’d painted the rest of her.

When I was done, I leaned over to plant my forearms beside her head and stamped a kiss on her warm, pliant mouth. “There,” I proclaimed. “Now, every inch of you is mine.”

“In case it wasn’t clear, I always was,” she said through a smile that was more at peace and lovelier than any expression I’d ever seen before on that exquisite face. “I’d be yours forever, if you asked. Even if you never do, I already am.”

MEI

I likedthe plan to take down the Seven Song triad.

Mostly because I was heavily involved.

It started with Jiang Kuan.

A week after we’d made a deal with White Snake, I used a burner phone to make plans to meet Jiang at our usual spot outside of downtown Vancouver.

Capilano Suspension Bridge Park was the perfect place for a rendezvous because it was always packed with tourists and locals alike. It was in the middle of a swathe of temperant rain forest, the treed canopy dense, second-growth forest with a swift-moving river cutting through it. Over the rushing water, they’d constructed the famous suspension bridge, a narrow ribbon of wood planks and webbed railing that only tempted brave hearts to cross.

I met Jiang, as I always did, smack dab in the middle.

He waited for me, leaning against the railing over the edge that dropped 230 feet to the Capilano River. I sidled close to him, resting my forearms on the railing to lean over it.

“You don’t look scarred from the experience,” he started blandly.

But then, that was his way.

That he’d mentioned the beating at all meant he’d been more than concerned about me.

“It could have been worse,” I allowed. “They got the jump on me when I was in a deep sleep.”

“Ashes Li has scratch marks on his cheek. I believe thosewillscar.”

“Good,” I said with a little smile that Jiang echoed.

We didn’t look at each other, just two people enjoying the expansive view.

“You didn’t get in touch. I was worried The Fallen had done something to you,” he confessed.

“I told you before, Axe-Man and Cleo wouldn’t let them do that.”

“Mmm. You told me Cleo wouldn’t, but you didn’t have such unshakeable belief in Henning Axelsen last time I saw you.”

I shrugged one shoulder, but my heart still felt swollen and too large in my chest, suffused as it was with Axe-Man’s forgiveness and attention. The last week had passed in an almost drugged state. Days spent with Cleo, mornings at Box n’ Burn so Axe-Man and I could start to teach her the basics of self-defence now that her cast was removed, afternoons curled up at the cabin with an assortment of The Fallen babes, playing games, drinking and chatting like we were some kinda sisterhood. Late evenings when Axe-Man came home from work, and all of us would make dinner, sometimes with Lin, too, then watch Cleo’s favourite black and white movies together on the hand-drawn leather couch. And the nights. Seven long, wild nights of being Axe-Man’s lover.

The best seven nights of my life, bar none.

We’d moved beyond hate-fucking, but there was still a rough edge to the way we came together each night. A kind of desperation like we were making up for lost time or we were running out of it. He seemed insatiably hungry for me now that he’d had a taste, devouring my pussy with his talented mouth for over an hour last night until my cum had soaked the bed and his beard, fucking me so hard I had a patina of bruises, fresh and fading, to add to his inked art on my skin.