Pretty Stormy (The Fallen Gods Book 3) by K.A Knight

Author:K.A Knight [Knight, K.A]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-08-27T16:00:00+00:00

I’m so wrapped up in her, the next few days pass quickly. We touch, we tease. She seems to feel the shift and soaks it up. We eat together, cook together. She reads to me, telling me stories of the world, and I do the same, describing all the places I’ve been. Yet we never go any further. I can’t bring myself to have her, even as much as I want to.

Those secrets are still between us, and for some reason, that feels important, because I know if I have her…I will never let her go. If she’s going to hurt me, break me like Phoebe did, I need to know first.

So even though I can see the frustration and confusion in her eyes, I don’t take her, and my cock hates me for it. I have to sneak off a lot and bring myself release. With each slide of her body, each innocent touch of her skin on mine…it drives me crazy. At first, she’s not even doing it on purpose, but when she realises it seems to get to me, she steps it up—brushing her breasts against my chest, trailing her hand across my thigh while we recline on the sofa, and leaning forward to reveal her body. I have the willpower of a god…but she makes it hard, and not just my cock. I nearly break way too often.

Instead, I play the game back, pushing her until it finally all becomes too much and I give, just a little. I start sneaking up on her and pressing her against tables, walls, and doors, sinking my fingers into that always soaking pussy. Fucking her with them, her moans filling my castle, but just before she comes, I pull free and walk away laughing.

Not so fun now, is it, Temptress?

Her swearing, worse than any sailor’s, follows me. This castle has never had such life, joy, desire, and happiness. All hints of loneliness have retreated because of her. I know it’s only a matter of time until something happens though, until she hurts me…walks away.

Betrays me.

I’m still waiting for it, holding parts of me back. Probably always will.

Sighing, I look down at her. We are lying in her bed, and she’s curled up against my chest. We baked this afternoon, which turned into her throwing flour right in my face. I glared at her, but she didn’t get scared, no, she laughed. Right in my flour-covered face.

So I did the only logical thing, I threw it back. Before I knew it, my kitchen was covered in food and we were tumbling on the floor, panting and covered in flour, head to toe.

“You okay?” she asks, lifting her head, her eyes meeting mine. They still astound me, those green jewels rendering me speechless for a moment.

“Fine,” I reply, and she averts her gaze, knowing it’s a lie.

“Phoebe?”

One word, that’s all she says, but I stiffen. She looks back at me with a guilty expression on her face. “I found the painting, she was beautiful.

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