Page 37 of Fear No Hell

Sam

Lila squirted. All over my face, my hands. the bedsheets beneath us.

Holy shit, that was hot.

Given the inconsistent peer-reviewed medical research on the topic, I thought female ejaculation was a myth, but there’s no way to ignore the anecdotal evidence here, that glossy slickness coating both of us.

I did that.

Something like pride builds in my chest.

I made her come so hard she squirted.

It’s messy as fuck and mindbogglingly sexy. So sexy in fact that Lila’s mess isn’t the only one.

“You’re delicious,” I murmur, licking up every drop that I can find, relishing the unique flavor of her.

Her throaty laugh cuts through the ringing in my ears. “You did such a good job, pet.”

That small amount of praise trickles down my spine, sends shivers of happiness through me.

I love that I was able to please her, that she felt comfortable enough with me to take the reins and order me around.

If you had asked me before today whether I thought I was inclined towards submission, I would have probably said no.

Apparently, if it’s Lila ordering me around, though, I’m all in.

I lift myself up, pushing forward to kiss her, to let her taste herself on my lips. When I finally pull back, she gives me a stunning, satisfied smile as she rubs small circles along my waist before her fingers stroke down my hips.

“Sam?” she murmurs as her nails scrape over my stomach.

“Yeah, sweetness?” I drop another kiss on her full lips.

“Can I—” And then her fingers are running down the trail of fine hair leading to my dick.

“Fuck,” I hiss. My hips drive forward towards her hand as if my body forgot I just came. Shit, if she gives me five minutes, I may be ready to go again if the way I’m twitching is any indication.

“I’m sorry!” She rips her hand away like I burned her, eyes wide and panicked.

“Wait, no, what happened?” I wrap my fingers around her wrist gently in spite of the panic ripping through me as her touch vanishes from my body. I press a kiss to the inside of her palm. “What are you sorry for?”

“I didn’t mean to assume—” She sinks her fangs into her lip, her eyes darting around, landing everywhere but on me.

“Sweetness,” I say firmly as I kiss the pad of her thumb. When she doesn’t meet my gaze, I nip at the delicate flesh.

it does the trick.

She squeaks in surprise, and her eyes finally come back to mine.

“Why are you sorry?”

“I thought you wanted me to—” Her free hand flutters near my hip in an obscene gesture. “But then you sounded angry when I tried to touch you, and I think I misunderstood—”

“Lila.” Dropping her wrist, I brace my hands around her face, so she can’t look away.

“Trust me when I say, I want you to touch me more fucking badly than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life.

” When she tries to roll her eyes, I click my tongue and shake my head.

“I would give up everything I own to have your hands on me.”

A confused furrow wrinkles her brow. “Then why won’t you let me—”

Oof, embarrassing moment here.

“You tasted so good.” I make sure to meet her eyes—even though all I want to do is curl up in a ball and pretend I don’t exist—so she doesn’t think I’m hiding anything from her.

“And your moans, the way your body arched when you came—fuck, the way you screamed my name, fucking everything about you… all of it was so goddamn sexy I couldn’t keep my shit together. ”

“You—” Lust clouds her face as quickly as it left. “Are you saying you came without me touching you?”

I nod. My hands clench into fists, but I don’t look away from her. No matter how guilty I feel about dry humping myself to completion inches away from her without her explicit consent.

You came because you liked going down on me?”

“Liked doesn’t come close,” I correct with a low groan. “I loved every goddamn minute.”

One golden finger traces down my stomach to where the flecks of cum not soaking into my sheets are drying on my skin.

The second her finger comes into contact with the stickiness on my stomach, the pale blue of her irises vanishes in a haze of scarlet, and she’s shoving me to my back, crawling down my body to straddle my knees.

My breath catches in my throat as she bends towards the remnants of cum cooling on my skin.

I’m lying in the wet spot, but I don’t care. I’m too entranced by the goddess looking at me like she’s starving and I’m the only food for miles.

“Can-can I clean you up?” she stammers, the nervousness at odds with the hungry way she’s ogling my softened cock where it’s lying along my stomach.

“Do you want to?” I reach out, trace my thumb along her jaw.

She nods enthusiastically and licks her lips. “Gods, yes, I want to taste you, Sam.”

I can’t form words—shit, I can barely think—but I manage to jerk my head in something that feels like it looks like agreement.

She dips her head and, in one quick motion, her tongue darts out to lap at my stomach.

An unfathomable expression crosses her face, one I can't interpret. Before I can ask her what’s going on, she honest-to-fucking-god growls.

Her claws dig hard into my hips, holding me hostage as she licks every drop of me up.

Happy noises of pleasure vibrate along my shaft as she nuzzles her way over me once.

Twice. Three times, the pink of her tongue a flash of color along my skin.

“Gods, you taste so good,” she whimpers as she tongues the head of my shaft, laps at my slit. Even after the mind-scrambling orgasm I accidentally had, my cock gives a half-hearted twitch like it wants to give her another one. Her voice goes from breathy and pleading to ravenous. “I want more.”

“Fuck,” I shout as she swallows me down.

Her mouth is so goddamn good—so fucking hot—I can feel myself already responding to her determined sucks.

I drag in a breath and remind myself of one thing: all of this was for her.

The reminder is enough to get me moving, to slide a finger under her chin and lift her away.

Her lips drop in a frown.

“You don’t have to do that,” I reassure her as I tug her up over my body.

She follows my lead reluctantly, her scarlet eyes still narrowed in a legendary glare as she perches over me. “I know I don’t have to do anything,” she snips. “I want to.”

“I know, sweetness.” I tuck an errant lock of hair behind her ear, let my thumb trace along its shell. “But can this first time be about you?”

Her lips part on a surprised breath.

“Next time, you can do whatever you want to me.” She doesn’t disagree that there will be a next time, just lets me keep talking.

Fuck me. “You can drink down my cum or use it to fuck me up the ass or moisturize your skin with it.” I’m rambling, completely unaware of what I’m saying, but it doesn’t matter because my Lila is touching me.

“Take everything I have—anything you want—because it’s all yours anyways. ”

I don’t have time to wonder if I revealed too much because her face lights up in a smile that reaches inside my chest and rips out my still beating heart.

An organ that now belongs to her. Has belonged to her since the first time I saw her—not that I knew anything about what to do with a woman at nine—if I’m being honest with myself.

She drops down and kisses me, the happy curve of her lips evident even when they’re pressed against mine. “I’m going to hold you to that.”

Fuck yes.

“You better.” I nip at her lower lip, sucking it deep into my mouth before releasing it and drawing away with a sigh as I realize the sheets are still wet. “No way we’re getting sleep if I leave the sheets like this.”

She jerks away, a shocked expression on her face. “You want me to stay here? In bed with you?”

“Yeah, I would love that…" I trail off. "I’m realizing now how stupid it was for me to assume you would want—”

“I want to stay.” The words are blurted, too loud and too quick, like she’s worried if she doesn’t get them out, I’ll take back the offer. “Please."

“That’s—fuck, that’s great.” I lean up and kiss her hard, wrapping my arms around her and pulling her close.

Her hair is a mess, the dark strands everywhere, twining around my biceps, sticking to my sweaty as fuck face.

She smells like heaven: vanilla and some dark scent with lots of fire and depth.

I want to rub myself all over her, see if I can permeate my skin with her scent, so it’s always with me—gonna ignore how creepy that is, my guy—but I satisfy myself with a deep inhale.

She smells like home.

I sit up and shift to the edge of the bed, thankful I dumped my iWalk in reaching distance.

I buckle it on and stand before leaning down to gather Lila in my arms. With her cocooned against my chest, I carry her over to the chair set up on the far side of the room and set her gently in it with another kiss.

As I amble over to the linen closet, I wonder whether she’ll let me keep kissing her going forward.

She didn’t cry this time, which seems like a good sign, so… maybe?

It scares me how badly I want to kiss her for the rest of my life. At how tenuous an assumption it is that she’ll be okay with it tomorrow.

I’m shaking as I strip the bed, dump the dirty sheets in the hamper, and put on the fresh linens. The idea of never kissing her again after today… my breaths are coming too fast now. I don’t want to stop touching her—ever—but I know if she tells me this isn’t going to happen again, I’ll listen.

Making her happy is what matters. It’s all that matters.

I turn to find her dozing in the chair, her eyelids half-mast as she tries to stay awake. Suddenly, my panic doesn’t seem so important. “C’mon, sweetness.” I lift her into my arms, dropping a kiss on her cheek as I walk us carefully to the bed and lay her down. “Time to sleep.”

She hums, a thick, exhausted sound that turns into a mumbled “thank you,” as she finally succumbs to sleep.

Rubbing at my chest where my heart is thumping painfully at the sight of her relaxed face, I kiss her one more time before forcing myself away from the bed to gather my abandoned sweatpants from the floor.

I drop to the bed to detach my iWalk and start the process of pulling my sweats back on.

I’m not paying much attention as I get dressed, too absorbed in what we shared to care much about anything else.

Once they’re on, I lift my legs into the bed and turn to face Lila.

The sight that greets me causes the peaceful lull in my brain to vanish, replaced by overwhelming confusion.

Although the room is dim, thanks to the blackout curtains I have throughout the house, it’s not so dark that I can’t see the ornate tattoos—ones that weren’t there before—spreading across her upper body in real time.

Blackwork lines, varying in thickness, of snakes and moons and mystical symbols I don’t understand emerge from her very pores, settling onto her skin as I watch.

A forceful wind blasts through the room, and I whirl around, looking for the open window or door letting in the breeze.

But there’s nothing. Everything is sealed shut.

I twist back to face Lila and gape in disbelief as one final tattoo appears: a glyph of a moon with an inverted cross extending beneath it sitting centered over her heart, situated directly between her perfect breasts.