Every Hero Deserves a Blowjob [A Paranormal Romance]

Chapter 18

Chapter 18

Ehma

They were falling, but they weren't. He held her body close. She guided his lips to hers, but that wasn't right either. Another sensation enveloped her, and she grew angry with its truth.

Her body was cold. Nothing was wrapped inside of her legs. No one was holding her close. Karma wasn't savoring her lips. She tried to ball her fist in frustration and instead, gripped the hand that eclipsed her own.

Only when her other hand dug trenches into wet sand did her eyes pop open. The contrast between the dream world and her waking moment in the real one was bittersweet. She felt empty without the façade. Everything was a pile of ashes in its wake.

Her brain was filled with cotton, which made it hard to focus on the glow bouncing on the ceiling above. The shadows hidden in the edges of the stalagmite. The way they menaced. Threatened to fall at any given moment to fill the void that echoed within her.

Fingernails combed through her hair, and she turned to face the source of her pain. His thoughtful gaze burned through her. What irritated her wasn't the fact that his eyes didn't see everything. It was the fact that they accepted what they did see.

She was lost in them. Crawling to them. To those eyes that only saw what she allowed them to see. If they saw more, they would dull. A holistic view would blunt the vibrant hazel and they would never dare peer at her again. She wanted that.

Eagerness fluttered in her temples as hands met her shoulders and pushed her back. Stripped her of her layers of protection. She allowed herself to be forced back onto the white sand that kissed at her elbows and swam through her toes.

She found it too hard to focus on the other details. She gave up. Instead, she turned her anticipation to the real culprit, who was busy kissing at her panty line.

Fuck. Which pair did I choose?

She grabbed a fistful of his hair and pretended to look into his eyes while casting glances at the fabric hugging her hips. Black and white stripes. A single Jack Skellington smile on her left side. She played it off by running her fingers across his temples and forcing him back down.

He thought he was in control. His rough treatment of her told her that he thought he was in the dominant position. Aggressive hunger bled from his pores, and yet his every touch was like water trickling against her.

She gripped his again hair with both hands, consciously demanding his lips sink further. Do it. Just fucking do it already, god damn you.

Still, she was unable to look away. His supple lips eased against her skin as he sucked and nibbled in playful angst. His hands squeezed at her thighs, bending them forward. She felt exposed and defenseless, but she knew that she was the one making the rules.

Something warm dipped against the tender skin between her thigh and the fabric of her panties. Instinctively, she squirmed against the hands holding her down. The warmth trailed to the other side as he skirted the spot that needed it the most.

She lifted her ass higher, trying to get the warmth where she wanted it. Was he refusing her? Now, when they were so close?

"If you don't lick it right here and now, I swear with every fiber of my body. I will put you back in the ocean."

He smiled at her, calling her bluff. It didn't matter. His lips inched closer. Closer. His entire mouth enveloped her, and the warmth of his breath seeped into her.

His lips puckered. He kissed the fabric. Just for a moment, his teeth nipped her clit underneath. She deserved this. All those months as a ghost. All those years as a mortal.