Ghostface Killer(53)

I have a new page to write, and my main characters are Baz and Whoops, the little life growing inside me. Best mistake I have ever made.

Baz's stomach rumbles ruthlessly. It sounds like he has an alien growing inside him, too.

"Fuck, I'm starving." He rubs over his flat, muscled, lickable abs.

"I imagine sleeping for three days would have that effect." I suddenly grow hungry myself, but food is the last thing on my mind.

"You know what I'm craving?" Baz asks.

"No, what?" I follow the trail of his hand over the peaks and valleys of his ripped stomach.

"Peanut butter and jelly." His eyes flash with something perverse.

"Naked peanut butter and jelly?" I hint.

"Definitely. That would hit the spot." He pushes me down to the ground and climbs on top of me. I spread my legs so he can nestle his pelvis against mine while he pins my hands next to my head. "You're going to be naked a lot. Like, always. All the time. I want to see what's mine every second of the day."

"Sounds cold."

"Don't worry. I'll warm you up whenever you want." He circles his hips in a slow, maddening motion.

"Good thing we're alone in the woods. I wouldn't want to give anyone the wrong idea when I scream." I close my eyes and drop my head back dreamily.




 

 

"You know exactly what's coming, huh?"

"Know, and looking forward to it." I peer up at him and smile widely. Proudly. Expectantly.

Baz drops his head, taking a bite right out of the neck of my T-shirt. "This. Off," he mutters through clenched teeth, yanking at the material until it tears.

"Hey!" I protest. "That's the only shirt I own at the moment."

"I'll buy you a whole new wardrobe to admire. But naked, now."

"You're lucky I like hot, pushy, knife-wielding men."

"Those are my three best attributes?"

"They're at the top of the list. Talented mouth, intuitive hips, and huge cock rank high on the list, too."





THE MOON IS just rising, casting a soft white glow over the tall trees, sparkly, white snow and fast-moving stream near the house. The landscape is a woodland creatures wet dream. Quiet, secluded, beautiful. I can appreciate it, too. For a little while. The isolation might make me go nuts after a while.

I sit on the kitchen counter as Baz returns from taking his meds and a leak. He's as naked as me, sporting a grin and a stiffy. I told him if he wanted to see my goodies, it was only fair I got to see his, too. A pair of pants never disappeared so fast.

I lick my lips as the most titillating specimen of man ambles toward me. I spread my legs as he walks right up to where I'm sitting, grabs the hair at the nape of my neck, and crushes his mouth directly against mine. He hits the bullseye with his tongue, plunging it into the wet, hot recess until my jaw stretches wide. I claw at his back as our lips smack, tongues duel, and breath quickens.

"Don't stop." I grab his tight ass and dig my nails into the firm flesh as his erection brushes against my equally hot, wet entrance. He's been holding out on me. Teasing me with promises of a marathon of pleasure. I need that right now. Need that with him. Need to reconnect.

"Are you begging?" he taunts.

"Not in the least bit." I nip at his bottom lip. He said he wants to hear me beg for him. He wants to hear how much I want him. And I do fucking want him. Enough to beg, but not enough to give him the satisfaction of knowing that. Yet.

"You're a dirty tease, Stevie James," he accuses.

"I'm not the one who walked into the room and attacked me. I was sitting here sweetly, minding my own business, when you opened fire."

Baz's face drops.

"I didn't mean it like that." I palm his cheek, quickly trying to recover. "I'm not mad, and I don't hold it against you. I was sent to kill you. You did the right thing. You protected yourself." 

My reasoning seems to resonate with him, but the fiery arousal that was just burning brightly between us has cooled to a kindle.

"Let's eat, okay?" He rubs my neck and drops a kiss on my lips. "I'm starving, and I'm sure you are, too." He brushes his hand across my stomach as he turns to the loaf of bread and open jars next to us on the counter.

I let Baz have at it, watching as he slaps the peanut butter and spreads the jelly over and over until there are a stack of sandwiches almost as high as the ceiling.

"How many people are you feeding?" I giggle. Baz pauses, realizing he erected a skyscraper with organic bread.

"Shit." He snaps back to reality, sticking the knife in his mouth to free his hands so he can close the jars.

I idly wonder if his six-story creation is a result of his problem or if his thoughts just ran away from him.