Clay's Unwanted Blondie

Chapter 27

♥⁠╣CLAY╠⁠♥

BELIEVING IN FOLK LORES wasn't his thing but now maybe he was starting to believe in such shit.

Maybe demon magic was real and maybe Brooklyn's demon pussy had bewitched him with a sudden thirst no one but her would quench.

At the risk of sounding pussy whooped, yesterday was—he had no words because that's just how fucking great it was.

One kiss and he imploded letting passion lick his insides with fiery torment. And sinking into her? Getting to gaze into those trusting orbs of brown had been his undoing.

And she was tight. Tighter than anyone should have been. Tighter than his dick deserved. She was delicate, soft, beautiful in his arms and she fit!

He'd turned feral. Two rounds just weren't enough add in three more rounds for the night and his dick practically saw stars. He hadn't had enough. Enough of those lips trembling against his, enough of those pink flowery nipples in his mouth and enough of her.

But he put his desires to rest for her, as odd as that was of him. She was tired and sore and probably overthinking the whole thing so he'd only carried her to bed without speaking a word.

What would he have said to smooth over the situation? That it was the best sex of his life and maybe he wanted to fuck her for eternity? That she shouldn't have kissed him or given him control?

He got his answers the next day when Lucille's bestfriend Emily informed him everyone left at the crack of dawn.

Everyone including Brooklyn.

With not so much as a goodbye.
........

There was just something peaceful about the country house in Beverly. With bulbous oak trees that downed the compound with fresh dry leaves, a small spring just a few meters from the house that often attracted a few variety of birds and that breathable air that wasn't polluted by noise or exhaust gases from traffic.

And most of all, no ass biting siblings around making it the best place to hide from shit happening in his life.

Leaning against the window pane, a glass of bourbon in his right hand, he gazed at the country house's driveway.

On cue like he had expected, the phone in his pants buzzed.

He knew it was Zuko without even looking at the caller ID.

He answered the phone, eyes still glued at the driveway.

"She there yet?"

"No"

"Probably for the best. Not trying to intrude again but Brooklyn should be in on this. I know, I know like you said she's your wife and all that but whether she likes the truth or not she has to know, otherwise this will fucking blow over in your face"

"What if I want it to blow over?"

"You don't. You wouldn't be going to all this lengths for her if you didn't like her"

Yet that was the fucking thing. What the hell was going on with him?

He liked her the same way he did his secretary or a pet even though he didn't have one. Yet why was she tormenting him in his dreams?

Every second of the day and everytime blonde hair came to sight, his heart would leap calling her name. Brooklyn.

Brooklyn. Brooklyn. It was all about Brooklyn. And his dick throbbed everytime he thought about her, that night, that longing in her eyes, that smile, those dimples...God he was going insane.