Arrow to the Heart: A Cupid Romance

Chapter 41

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Dec grabs a flyer off the bulletin board and scrawls something on the back of it. When he picks it up, I can read the words 'out of order'.

"What... What are you doing?" I ask as he pins it to the front of the laundry room door and then closes it.

"I don't really want to be interrupted for this next part," he says.

"And what if they open the door anyway?"

He chuckles and pulls out his pocket knife. He prods at the door mechanism for a moment then with a twist, he locks the bolt on the laundry room door and shoots me a smirk.

"Oops," he says with a mischievous look as he walks back over to me. "Guess that criminal background has its perks."

I shake my head and give him a playful scolding look.

It's not like I could resist him—or that I would want to. His torso is bare since he threw his shirt in the wash and the black lines of his markings draw my eyes south to where his jeans are slung low around his hips.

I could stare at this man all day.

Suddenly I'm very aware of the vibrations of the washing machine under me and they're shooting straight to my core.

He places a hand on each of my knees, then drags them up my thighs, pushing my skirt up as he goes.

"Well those are gonna have to come off," he says. He loops his thumbs under the fabric of my panties and tugs them down slowly—almost torturously so. With a wicked smile, he tucks them in his pocket and tugs me right to the edge of the machine. He bends down, hooks my knees over his shoulders, and drags his tongue up my center. I shudder hard, my eyes falling back behind my lids.

He wraps his lips around my clit and sucks, and the sensation mixed with the vibrations from below is almost overwhelming.

He pulls back with a self-satisfied grin, his eyes hooded as he slides a finger inside me. My head rolls back on my shoulders and he starts to rub my clit with his thumb.

My every nerve ending feels like it's at the cliff's edge—waiting for a push.

"You're fucking soaked, Kitten." His eyes burn into mine with a new level of intensity. "Did it get you hot watching your man defend what's his?"

The answer probably should be no, right? Because I'm not supposed to like that he hit someone I work with. I'm not supposed to enjoy him calling me his. Anyone in their right mind would say that these things are red flags.

But it's hard to deny it when his words send me over the edge, diving headfirst into an earth-shattering orgasm.

I expect him to stop, but he replaces his thumb with long, leisurely swipes of his tongue, and it's exactly what I need. His finger keeps the same pace, and the combination is enough to drag the orgasm out, letting me ride out the peak for much longer than I thought possible. Dozens of white stars fill my vision and pleasure crawls up my spine. My thighs clench, my hips buck against him, and my whole body shakes for what feels like forever.

When it finally becomes too much, I wrench my body away from him, overstimulated, exhausted, and incredibly sated.

"Wha-... That... That was incredible," I say, panting. "Was that some sort of magical Cupid thing?"

He laughs, unhooking my legs from his shoulders and standing.

"Nope." He shakes his head. "I have plenty of tricks that have nothing to do with my powers."