Chapter Thirty-Nine

There’s indescribable freedom in falling.

“Dom,” Cecelia moans, her perfect lips parting as I pin her wrists with one hand and pull out partway to deny her orgasm—killing her protest with my tongue by thrusting it into her mouth. She sucks it with abandon, spurring me on.

When I’ve pulled back enough to keep her edged, I burrow back in, rolling my hips, rubbing the ridge of my cock against her clit. Her orgasm rolls through her within a few thrusts, her release vibrating on my tongue as she tightens around me. Gripping her hips, I pull her to straddle me in the middle of my bed. Mattress clear aside from the two of us, sheets and pillows strewn, I thrust up, impaling her, and she cries out my name. When she attempts to move, I still her, commanding her eyes by gripping her jaw, demanding the acknowledgment that I’m the one giving her this pleasure—that this connection is with me.

She gently rocks against me as she stares back at me.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” I whisper, as her eyes search mine in an attempt to find deeper meaning in my words—meaning that’s there—that she knows I feel but refuse to put a voice to.

When she again tries to move, I keep an iron grip on her. I won’t be the man who makes promises I can’t keep, but I’ll be dammed if I don’t make it clear that in this room, this bed, it’s all us and what we create when we’re together.

We both know it and have known it since this started. It runs so much fucking deeper than physical. For me, it’s a place of bliss, peace. A place I both liberate and find more of myself that I know is only for her. Holding her in muted intimacy is the only way I can effectively relay to her without words that I feel it, too. I’m not going to let her miss a second of the truth, even if it remains unspoken.

“Let me move,” she pleas, pressing kisses along my jaw. My cock pulses as she attempts to gain the friction we both want—her need throbbing around me as my body thrums with hers. Heart pounding, I hold out as long as I can, for as long as possible, because it’s with her that I feel the most alive. I’m so close to coming, just from seeing her staring back at me, explosions detonating in my chest as everything I feel attempts to break free.

“I need you,” she murmurs, raking her nails down my sweat-slicked back.

We’ve been fucking for hours. I’ve felt nothing but frantic during that time, the compulsion to keep her with me becoming more finite with each release. The panic due to the notion that if I allow her a single inch of space, she’ll discover the reason for my urgency, and I won’t ever get this feeling back.

“Dom,” she whispers as she reads my fear in my refusal to release her, “you can tell me anything.”

Fisting her hair and pulling her neck back with my grip, I whisper the truth at the base of her throat. “I am.”

And I am.

Telling her what I can.

Showing her how being with her revives me and that every day we’re together, she brings me back from the brink, collecting pieces of humanity and empathy I felt I lost.

That she alone is the pinprick of light that brings me back when I get lost in the dark.

That she’s the only being alive that has ever been able to make me feel so much at once.

That we’re told to love our enemy, and I’m faithfully obeying.

Fear and lust war as I claim possession of her physically, but even as I take her body, she continues to steal and own pieces of me I ignored I possessed.

Before her.

Before this bliss.

Hellbent on making us both suffer for perfection I have no right to have with her, I take her mouth, and with just a kiss and one deep thrust, we both come.

Collapsing at the head of the mattress, we lay in a sweaty heap, face to face, stroking the other’s skin, eyes locked. Even with my barrier of silence, we feel solidified—like a drop of black ink tainting the surrounding water, creating our own cloud. But it’s within it where we’re most comfortable. Where we can maintain this perpetual state until we inevitably end, by way of me, my brother, or however this plays out because I can’t protect her from either of us. I can only prepare her. But looking at her now, I can’t remember why I’m not allowed to love her. I can’t think of a single fucking reason why I shouldn’t have her or silence the words.

She’s not her father.

I’m not my brother.

All these things make sense here, under the cover of the storm roaring outside—a cover we created that keeps us safe and hidden away.

It’s just us. And it’s here I can be myself with her, and I don’t want to hide it anymore or from anyone—which is not only detrimentally fucking foolish, but impossible. Which brings me back to the only conclusion I can draw.

This is love, and I’m dangerously consumed by it.

Not a question I have to ask myself as the truth of that is beating steadily in my chest. Staring into her eyes as we share breath, I’m filled with the conviction that I’m looking back at my twin flame. Attracted to her in a way I can’t escape. Even when I’m inside her, the need increases tenfold—especially then—I can’t get close enough. I can’t keep my hands off her or my thoughts from straying toward her constantly when we aren’t together.

It makes sense to me now why twin flames are a love addict’s choice, and since we’ve been together, she’s drawn an addiction I didn’t know I had out of me.

But we’re the caustic kind of identical flames, and there’s nothing that can change that.

It’s already written.

So, while there might be freedom in the fall, there’s consequence, too.

Delphine’s words echo in my head as that truth sets in.

“She’ll be the end of you.”

What I didn’t tell her was that I already knew it.

By fire or water.

Either way. So fucking be it.

Until then, I’ll wait for the change in air pressure, the gathering of the clouds, the streak of lightning in the sky, the rumble of thunder, and rain.

So, this is the honeymoon phase.

Struck down with the four-letter curse or not, I’m still a motherfucker, and embracing it. I’m feeling cursed by the day and taking full advantage of the weather. It’s stormed every single day this week, and my cock has been singing in it, splashing around in its raincoat. The forecast continues to guarantee that it’s not going to dry up anytime soon. Eyes closed, I don’t dare look down because I know exactly how far I’ve fallen into oblivion along with it, and I don’t want to glimpse how much distance is left before I land. I have zero guilt over Sean’s current state of neglect because he had plenty of time with her before I claimed my rightful place. Just as the thought crosses, my phone rumbles, and the devil I’m thinking of flashes as the caller on screen. Unable to help myself, I answer it, putting it on speaker and sensing the hesitation in the air.

“Dom?” Sean asks, due to my lack of greeting. “The fuck you doing, man?”

“What am I doing hmmmm . . . fucking your beautiful girlfriend’s mouth,” I answer, thrusting in deep enough that her eyes water.

I hold the phone out to her with the choice to end the call, keeping our eyes locked—she resumes sucking and grinning, and I tangle my free fist into her hair.

“What?” Sean croaks on the other end of the line as Cecelia clamps hard around my dick, drawing a groan. Fire licks up my spine, and it’s all I can do to keep my knees from buckling.

“I said I’m fucking your girlfriend’s perfect mouth, and you should be proud of her because she’s . . . fucking hell,” I rasp out as Cecelia’s head bobs, “she’s owning the fuck out of it.”

Silence. A second ticks by, then two.

“You’re such a fucking dick.”

“I’d say more than a mouthful,” I muse, grinning before Cecelia wipes it from my face, hollowing her cheeks and taking a deep pull.

“Fuck, baby,” I croak, lowering the phone so Sean gets the full effect. “She’s ravenous, bro. Shame the weather isn’t putting out in your favor.”

“Goddamnit,” Sean grits out, his voice hoarse. “I miss that mouth.”

I know he’s getting off on this as much as me. Cecelia knows it too, which has her ditching the last of her foreplay and going all in.

“Keep talking,” I grunt, “it’s turning her on.”

“I’m in the middle of a shift,” his reply is gravel.

“Then I suggest you get somewhere private and f-fucking fast,” I chop out, nearly losing my shit when she cups my sack and tugs. “She’s in one of her moods.”

The plant noise lowers, and I know he’s taken heed of my suggestion.

“I feel for you,” I say, massaging her scalp with my fingers, “and your current view,” I taunt as she engulfs me, “because she’s wearing nothing but fire-red panties . . . perfect nipples at attention.” She bobs again, taking me prisoner by digging her nails into my ass. “I’m thinking maybe she bought these panties to wear for you.” I run my finger along the stretch of her mouth. “Did you buy those to wear for Sean?”

A strangled confirmation is hummed around my dick as Sean curses over the line.

“Too bad you aren’t here to see them,” I say, pumping my hips. “She knows red is your favorite.”

“I’m going to redden your perfect ass for that, Cecelia,” Sean threatens, tone rough. Cecelia noisily pops me out of her mouth, her voice liquid desire.

“Looking forward to it.”

“Fuck, baby,” he whispers. “Are you wet for me too?”

I lift my brows and grip her chin. “Tell him.”

“You know I am,” she moans, gripping my cock so hard at the base that my hips jerk. “I miss you,” she murmurs.

“This is torture.”

“I’ll say, she’s licking me up and down like she’s fucking starving, brother,” I relay as she flattens her tongue along the bottom before swirling it along my head, our eyes locked.

“I was just minding my own when she drove over, stripped down, dropped to her knees, and started sucking my cock . . .” I run my thumb along her cheek, “She looks so fucking beautiful doing it, lips stretched wide. Too bad you’re missing out,” I grunt as she takes another hard pull before taking me down to the base.

“Fuck you,” he growls as the noise at the plant dies with the snap of a door.

“I think you’re making him hard,” I whisper as she starts to edge me—to make it last. After another thorough pass, she pops me out of her mouth, whispering like I imagine a siren would. “Are you hard for me, Sean?”

“Fuck yes,” he groans. “Always.”

“Are you in our office?” She asks, pumping me while scoring her nails over my abs.

“Yeah, baby,” he grunts. “Do you need me to come home and help?”

“That’s not the way this works,” I remind him.

“It’s been raining all fucking week,” he cracks out raggedly.

“It’s up to her to share, but,” I grunt again, “I would say our girl is owning it,” I report as she takes me back down to the base, and I can’t help my sharp exhale. “Fuck, Cecelia.”

“Baby, will you save some for me?” Sean rasps hoarsely.

“Always,” Cecelia murmurs.

“Don’t worry. I’ll make sure she’s well fed and taken care of.” Using my grip on the back of her head, I thrust enough to gag her for him to hear. Sean’s rapid hard breaths sound over the line. “Fuck, I’m already there.”

“She’s licking my crown,” I report as fire ramps up my spine. “She’s teasing me, Sean. Maybe I should teach her a lesson.”

“Don’t you fucking dare hang up,” he grunts. “Baby, talk to me.”

“I’ll be in your bed,” she noisily sucks the tip, “as soon as the sun comes out,” she assures, cutting off my protest, gagging herself for us both as my cock jerks in warning.

“But her ass will already be red,” I declare.

The second she digs her nails into my thigh, I come, groaning hard as I pulse into her waiting mouth while she blunts her nails down my thigh. She takes every drop as I grip her chin after filling her mouth.

“Open,” I order, and she does. “She’s got a mouth full of me, Sean. What should she do?”

“Swallow,” he orders without hesitation.

“You heard him,” I say, releasing her cinched mouth from my grip before her throat bobs. “She missed a little.” Taking my thumb, I push it into her mouth, “but she’s sucking it off my thumb.”

“Jesus Christ,” Sean curses.

“Don’t worry about grabbing me dinner,” I taunt, grinning down at her, “because, by the time you get here, I’ll already have eaten.”

Ending the call, I pull her to her feet, and Cecelia shakes her head, mock scorn in her eyes. “You’re horrible.”

“You’ll thank me for that, and you know it.”

“Yeah,” she grins, “I probably will.”

“You’re finally owning it,” I state, gripping her hair and pulling it back to expose her throat.

“Yeah, I am,” she whimpers as I flatten my tongue at the divot of her throat before running it to her mouth, thrusting my tongue in for a little preview.

“Dom,” she grits out, body rattling with anticipation, chest heaving, eyes dilated, expression needy.

“Need something?”

She narrows her demanding navy blues. I love it when she gets like this because she’s almost impossible to keep satiated. Gripping her jaw, I take her mouth, tasting myself while walking her back toward the bed. Pushing her back, I tug down her panties and sink to my knees. Spreading her soaked pussy, I stroke it with my fingers leisurely, and she’s so fucking ready after what just went down that she comes. Gazing down at her, I send up a selfish prayer for more rain just before I bow my head and worship.