Chapter 277: An Honest Moment.
I hooked my fingers in the sides of her underwear and pulled. She lifted for me. The white fabric slid down her legs—soft, deliberate—and joined the rest of our clothes on the floor.
She was bare now.
Venna looked up at my face, her blue eyes tracing slowly upward, then downward across my fully naked body above her—shoulders, chest, the hard lines of abdomen—and the heavy, hard length of my cock that throbbed visibly with each heartbeat. The look was open, unhurried, almost studying.
She leaned up just enough to brush her lips against mine again, softer this time, teasing, tasting. Her tongue flicked lightly against my lower lip before she pulled back half an inch, breath mingling hot between us.
She was breathing harder. Her gasp killed everything outside the building—the distant screams, the broadcast, the whole capital ending—until there was only the sound of air moving in and out of her lungs.
Her chest rose and fell in deeper, quicker rhythms now, breasts swaying heavily with each inhale. Her nipples tight, dark peaks catching what little light the window still allowed.
I reached down and gently brushed aside the small strand of blue hair that had fallen across her face. The strand was warm from her skin. It stayed where I put it.
I took a deep, steadying breath, letting the hot air pool between our faces, then brought my hands down.
I lifted her legs.
My hands moved to the backs of her thighs, fingers sinking into the soft, warm flesh. I raised them slowly, folding her body with exquisite care. Her knees bent and drew back toward her chest, thighs spreading wider apart under the pressure. The position pinned her legs back firmly, completely exposing her. The mattress shifted under the new angle. A soft sound left her throat.
Her pussy opened to me fully—swollen outer lips parting, the slick inner folds glistening wetly in the low light, her entrance visibly contracting with each rapid breath. A thin, shining strand of arousal stretched and trembled between her lips before it broke.
I moved my cock just above her.
The heavy, throbbing length hovered there, so close that the radiant heat from her core kissed the sensitive underside of my shaft. The flushed head pulsed visibly, a thick bead of precum gathering at the tip before it slowly swelled and began to drip in a single, glistening thread toward her waiting wetness. The space between us felt charged, electric, every tiny shift of air moving across our skin like a held breath.
Venna’s hands sprawled across the sheets, fingers digging deep into the fabric, bunching it into tight ridges between her knuckles. The tendons in her wrists stood out as she braced herself. Her eyes stayed on mine.
The thick, swollen head of my cock pressed firmly against her entrance, nestling hot and heavy between her slick, swollen lips.
Her pussy fluttered once—a slow, involuntary kiss that pulsed around the tip, slick heat already coating me, trying to draw me in. The sensation was immediate, almost too much.
Our eyes met again, breathing each other in. The weight of what we were about to do hung thick between us. The girl I’d met at her mother’s funeral yesterday. Spread open beneath me. Legs pinned high and wide. The world outside was dead.
Then my gaze dragged slowly downward.
Her full breasts heaved with each shallow breath, nipples stiff and flushed dark, the skin around them tight and pebbled. The elegant dip of her waist flared into soft hips. Her legs trembled faintly under my grip, thighs quivering where my hands locked behind her knees, holding her completely open.
And right there—her pussy stretched taut around the broad head of my cock, inner folds glistening and visibly pulsing, trying to pull me deeper into her.
I held her legs pinned backward, my fingers sunk deep into the soft flesh behind her knees.
I pushed.
Just barely.
And I stopped.
Right there, with her hands braced, eyes closed, and everything in her ready, I stopped. The head of me stayed pressed against her, the heat of her still kissing the tip, but I didn’t move further. The refusal lived in my chest before it reached my hips.
It wasn’t the target. That was the thing. I wasn’t doing this for the target and I knew it, and that was exactly why something in my chest refused to let it go clean.
Because her mother had died holding this thing. Riya had spent her last conscious minute pushing it out of herself and into her daughter. And she was underneath me right now with no idea any of that had happened. The knowledge sat between us like a third body.
Venna felt me stop before she opened her eyes.
"Why did you stop?"
I looked at her. The blue of her eyes was darker in the low light, searching. "There’s something I have to tell you."
"Now?" Her hands moved to my back and stayed there, holding me where I was, refusing to let the moment go anywhere. The warmth of her palms pressed into my skin. She searched my face for a second. "Okay. Tell me."
"You’re carrying something." The words came out badly, the way I’d known they would. "Inside you. And you don’t know it’s there."
"Bram."
"I’m serious." I didn’t look away. The contact of our eyes was harder to hold than the contact of our bodies. "When I make you come," I said, the words bitter in my mouth, "I take it out of you. That’s the only time it lets go. That’s what I do."
Venna looked up at me.
Outside, the capital continued its quiet ending. In here the only sound was the two of us breathing.
"Then take it," she said. "Please."
She hadn’t understood a word of it. Not the shape of it, not the weight, not what it would cost her. The trust in her voice was absolute and completely unearned.
"Okay," I said.
That was a stupid thing to say. And a worse moment to say it.
Outside, the capital continued ending. In here, for a little while longer, the only thing that moved was the two of us.