“When I was pounding into you, what did I tell you?”
She tried to focus. She really did. But he was lowering himself down between her knees and all she could do was squirm and spread even wider.
“To not … to not…” She had to swallow and moisten her lips again. “To not make a sound.”
He hummed deep in his throat, his eyes heavily lidded as he studied her. One hand lifted and ghosted the inside of her quivering thigh, drawing a line from knee to apex.
Hot, sticky cream rushed out of her. He watched it run down her ass and dissolve into the carpet. He never looked away from her pussy, but that was all the contact she got—his eyes feasting off her.
“No sound,” he murmured. “I had to cover your mouth shut. I barely could. You were … God, you were beautiful coming apart. I thought for sure John Paul could hear you, could hear what I was doing to you only doors away, what you were letting me do to you.” A slow, devious smirk twisted his perfect features. “It was the first time I came in you. There was so much of it. I remember watching it pour out of you and thinking—Mine. She’s fucking mine.” He raised his head, his fingers inches from her clit, the muscle glinting and fat for attention. She knew it would only take one nudge to send her over. “Is she still mine, Ava?”
There was more in the question than what he was simply asking. It wasn’t just about her pussy. It wasn’t about fucking her and pumping her full of his come. He was asking her something she needed full brain power to think about.
“Yes,” the word left her unrestricted and with confidence. “Yours.”
“Good.”
That was all the answer she got before he was on her. His cock broke through the ring of her sex in one vicious plunge that had her limbs flailing and her body balking. The world tilted a multitude of colors across the eyes she squeezed shut tight. Her initial cry rose to a deafening roar as every slam sang up her with a new spear of pain. Her arms tugged at the restrain, the buckle pinging off the stone, barely audible beneath her sobs and the sharp slaps of skin meeting skin.
He was wild, an untamed beast seeking revenge and she had gotten in his way. He was ravenous and brutal, and there wasn’t a loving bone in his body.
It hurt. More bruises to add to the ones she already claimed. The carpet was burning her in all the places she was being forced against it. All marks she wanted, desperately needed. She was crying and still begging him not to stop.
She needed this. She needed the reminder that she was there, alive, unharmed. She needed to hurt, a reminder tomorrow that it hadn’t been a dream. She came and the sheer violence of it rocketed through her with such intensity, she was sure all fifty floors heard her screaming his name.
“Not. Loud. Enough!”
He rose to his knees and grabbed her by the hips. His dark eyes bore into hers, merciless and driven, a madman on a mission. His hair was no longer tamed back. The strands hung in wild wisps around his face. They swung with every slap.
Without warning, he yanked out. She thought it was over only to be wrenched over onto her belly. Pain crackled in her shoulders when her arms twisted. Then he was back, his cock a punishing force.
“Scream for me, Ava,” he taunted into her ear, his hips pumping against her backside, forcing her to take him deeper. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it? Harder, faster, deeper than ever before? Can you feel how deep I am?”
It wasn’t the deepness that had her shoving back against him. It wasn’t the punching blows of his cock head against the very base of her that had her leaking. It was the angle, the grind of his cock against the spongy bump inside. It was the burn of her nipples chafing against the carpet, the pinch of his fingers on her hips.
She came again with the roar of the ocean between her ears and the suction of her channel sucking at his assault.
She slumped, boneless and exhausted with her face wedged in the knot of her arms. His cock pulled free and she barely noticed. She didn’t even hear him move until the belt was released and her arms dropped. Tingles of relief scuttled up her shoulders and down the blades. Her knuckles popped with her feeble fisting.
He gathered her up and turned her offer. She was allowed a weak whimper before he was wrenching apart her knees and wedging his shoulders between her thighs.
“You know what I want, myshka.”
Fingers and toes tingling, Ava had just enough sense to reach between her legs and peel apart her lips. Her fingers slipped in her own juices, a mess that made her clit throb. There was so much of it. It was all over her pussy, smearing her thighs, soaking the carpet, dripping off the end of his cock.
“Hold her open wide,” he instructed, breath hot on her exposed sex. “We need to clean up the mess you’ve made.”
Ava managed a moan of his name, but it was broken by the gasp that quickly followed with the angry sweep of his tongue. He ate her like he fucked her, like he hated her. Like he wanted nothing more than to hurt her. But then his eyes would lift over her mound and find hers and the love in them … there was no name for it. He looked at her like she was the most precious thing in the world.
With his eyes still on her, she lifted her hands and cupped her breasts. He watched as she rolled the nipples in time to the flicks of his tongue around her clit. Her hips lifted and he suctioned his lips to her trigger, recognizing her request even before her back arched and her head rolled back.
She came with the gentle rocking of waves and the suckling of his mouth. She was still riding the blissful sway when she felt him rise over her. Her eyes opened to his beautiful face, his warm eyes. She found her lips twisting into a smile. Her arms lifted and coiled around his shoulders. She drew him to her, to her mouth.
He tasted like her mixed with him and something subtle. Coffee maybe. She gripped him to her, moaning into his lips when he slid inside her. Her over sensitive walls rippled around him as he settled into place.
“Okay?” he whispered quietly.
She nodded, hooking her legs around the back of his thighs. “Yes.”
He was slower, gentler this time. He never broke the kiss, not even when he reached between them for her clit.
“I don’t think I have another one in me,” she said, only partially teasing.
“One more,” he urged huskily. “I need one more.”
She gave it to him. She didn’t know how, every bit of her was exhausted, beaten, and ready for bed, but she came under the patient strokes of his thumb.
He came inside her. The heat of it filled her sex and dribbled out when he withdrew. No one else had been allowed that. His was the only release she actually longed for, the only one that felt right drenching the most private parts of her.
“Okay?” he asked again, hovering over her with his hands braced on either side of her head and his hips still nestled between her sprawled thighs.
“Yes,” she whispered, eyes closed.
“I wasn’t too rough?”
Ava chuckled weakly. “Felt so good.” She sighed, already half asleep. “Missed it.”
She didn’t remember the rest. There was a vague recollection of arms gathering her up, then nothing.
She woke sometime later with a dull ache in her side and a familiar pinch in her shoulders. The kind that made the previous night worth every second. But neither were the causes of her disturbance. Neither were strong enough or painful enough to steal away the blissful fingers of sleep she’d been curled up in. It was something else, something too faint to comprehend until she heard the rustle of fabric.
Her eyes opened to the soft navy blue of early dawn. The bed behind her dipped and the weight of Dimitri’s body eased against her back, naked, warm, and perfect.
She snuggled back into him. “Where’d you go?”
“Late business.” His arm snaked around her middle and she was tucked securely into his curve. “Did I wake you?”
Her answer was prolonged by the adjustment of her body slipping half onto her back to study the painted lines of his face bathed in th
e rising morning.
“Devil business or leader of the north business?”
His fingers ghosted the curve of her cheek. The single gesture sent a scatter of shivers along her spine.
“I can’t believe you know about that.”
One shoulder lifted in a shrug. “I’m clever like that.”
The finger glided down to tuck beneath her chin. It lifted her mouth to his in a deep, toe curling kiss that had her head spinning and her nerve endings prickling to life.
“Devil business,” he murmured to her lips. “And a little leader business.”
She hummed quietly. “Sort it?”
He nodded. “I’m yours for another…” he peeked over her to the alarm clock on the nightstand. “Two hours.”
A slow grin worked over her face, curving her lips into a wicked grin. “That’s plenty of time.” She hooked her arms around his neck and bunched her fingers into the damp locks of hair at the back of his head. “And you have eight years to make up for.”
His answer was the crash of his mouth over hers and the tightening of his arms. He held her to him with a possessive dominance that made her stomach muscles flex. Her senses tore at the clean scent of him washing around them, smelling of spices, night, and man, at the feel of his smooth, taut skin gliding beneath her palms. God, he felt good. The feel of him on her, his hips pushing apart her thighs, his mouth invading her sanity. He was an addiction she had no notion of ever relinquishing.
“I need to taste you.”
She gave him no chance to react. In a single motion, she heaved him onto his back and straddled him. Her bare mound settled with him nestled between her thighs. The fat head of his cock peeked out from the moist folds of her lips, nudging her swollen clit.
He was rock hard. The feel of him rubbing so close to the place she needed him filled her with a desperation she could barely stand. It rode over her in columns of heat. It took everything she had not to lift her hips and slid him inside her all the way until it hurt.
She wasn’t one of those women who needed to be choked and smacked during sex. The ones who wanted to be spat on and tied into a ball with itchy rope. She just liked that sweet pang of it the next day while she went about her daily routine and she couldn’t sit down without grinning. She loved the violence of a good fuck. That’s what it was. It just didn’t feel real if it wasn’t wild and left both parties sweat drenched and exhausted.
Maybe it was his fault. The first time he’d taken her in anger it had been the afternoon they’d had their first real fight as a couple. It had been about something she couldn’t even remember, but he’d slammed her into the wall and there had been a vicious attack of hands and mouths, and the assault of his cock pounding into her while he held a firm rein on her hair.
The orgasm had lasted hours. It had sizzled through her entire body. It had turned her legs to jelly and her brain to pudding. She couldn’t even cry out as the world was ripped apart around her. Her mouth had hung open in a silent scream while he hissed into her ear what a good little cunt he had. Then, when she’d been semi coherent, he’d forced her to her knees and fucked her mouth with the cock dripping with her release. He hadn’t been kind about that either. There had been very little gentleness after that, after they both realized how much better it was compared to all other lovemakings, but that was how she liked it, how she came the hardest, and only he’d ever done it properly.
Grinning at the memory, Ava started her descent down the masterpiece of his torso. Her lips sucked, licked, and nipped their way over the artwork tattooed across the rigid muscles, worked down along the lines of his stomach, and followed the dusting of fine, dark hairs guiding her from navel to the appendage waiting for her. She paused only a split second, curious a second time about the gauze inches from her face, but like the last time, she would wait for later when she wasn’t starving for him.
He gave a grunt even before she was there, before her chin glided the smooth length, before her hot breath traced the cap. His fingers twisted into the sheets on either side of his hips, the knuckles white, reminding her of someone preparing themselves for a crazy carnival ride. The thought made her smirk to herself as she went to work breaking him apart.
It was probably her favorite part of him being on his back. Usually, she liked him on top, liked him in control, liked being dominated. But, occasionally, she enjoyed returning the favor, enjoyed making him squirm and snarl his frustrations. Occasionally, she liked being the one in control.
“Don’t go anywhere,” she whispered, pressing a hot kiss along the stretch of skin between his belly button and the puddle he was creating beneath the head of his cock.
“What…?” His head jerked off the pillow, his bemused, and slightly panicked expression comical.
She snickered. “I’ll be right back.”
She rose off the bed quickly, unabashed by her nudity, and padded quickly into the bathroom. She shut the door and ran the faucet. She let the sound of rushing water striking the bowl muffle the sound of the drawer being tugged open and the rattle of pills as she shook two extra strength aspirins into her palm. She downed both with a glass of water.
The pain wasn’t unbearable. She knew she could go another couple of hours before she really felt the assault of the previous day, but the sooner she caught it and numbed it, the better. This way, Dimitri wouldn’t catch it either. He wouldn’t get that look on his face, the one that always made her think he’d just been skewered in the heart with something blunt. She hated that look, hated seeing it tightening his jaw, darkening his eyes. She hated knowing he only got it when he felt responsible for something he had no control over.
Properly medicated, she quickly brushed her teeth, ran hurried hands through her hair and stepped out.
He was still exactly where she’d left him, one arm hooked over his eyes, his cock a hard bump against his abdomen. But she knew the moment she got close enough and heard the subtle rattle in his chest, saw the slow rise and fall of his chest, that she was too late. He was asleep and the fact that he’d hardly slept the night before made her pass up the idea of waking him up.
Ava sighed with a miserable shake of her head. “Damn it.”
Dejected, she padded to the empty spot next to him and climbed in. She tugged the sheets up around her and was getting comfortable when he turned over. The unexpected movement startled her, but she didn’t resist when his arm tucked around her and she was dragged into his side. The pillow was replaced by his shoulder and his heat became her blanket.
“Don’t tease,” he mumbled sleepily into her ear. “Blue balls are not fun.”
Ava laughed, one leg snaking over his hip. “You fell asleep.”
He made a sound between a grumble and a groan. “Sleep. Not dead. Get back down there.”
Her laugh deepened, but she wiggled her way back down to his midsection. Her fingers closed around the thick shaft.
Dimitri moaned huskily. “Good girl,” he praised, watching her through half opened eyes. His hand stroked her head. “Let me come in your mouth.”
Not many would agree that the taste of a man’s release could make their mouths water, but his did. Only his. The very idea of having him spill down her throat swarmed her with the same electric sizzle of anticipation as the first sweep of his tongue against her sex. It made her wet just thinking about it.
Driven by greedy hunger, she leaned in to lap up the clear liquid off his stomach and the hood of his erection. Her tongue danced over the cap, circling and gathering every last drop before her lips closed over it in a kiss.
She’d missed the taste of him. She missed how he felt stretching her jaw and flattening her tongue to slide all the way into the back of her throat. She missed cradling him there as he pulsed against the tight suction of her lips.
“Ava.” He purred her name as though whispering a prayer. His hand stilled in its rhythmic stroking. His hips gave an involuntary jerk. “Deeper…” He broke off with a guttural gasp. His fingers curled into the str
ands at the back of her head. “Deeper, myshka. All the way. Let me … yes!”
His head dropped back. His teeth closed along his bottom lip. Ava would have grinned if she weren’t so focused on her mission.
Her throat muscles worked with her first swallow, massaging his head while she expertly rolled her tongue around the shaft. The fingers on her right hand snuck between his thighs and cupped the tight sack of his balls and she tugged in time to her swallows.
“Ava…” His hips rose, pushing him deeper against the back of her throat. “Fuck, I’m…”
That was all the warning she got before hot, thick ropes of salty come spurted out of him and pooled in her mouth. She tried to keep it all in, but it kept jetting out until she was sure she would drown. She gulped down as much of it as she could before breaking the seal. She was panting almost as hard as he was, but she still cleaned him off, collecting every last drop before pushing her hair back and lifting her head.
His arm was back over his face, but his breathing was rapid.
She climbed over him, straddling his middle and bracing her weight with both palms planted on his chest. She followed a series of circles with the tip of one finger, following it along an interact path to a starburst of tiny images hidden amongst larger images. The ones she remembered, the row of tiny stars along his right breast plate for his fallen comrades, the full length angel with spear in hand on his left arm, the old time keeper and clock on his right, the hungry bird of prey swooping for the kill across his chest, wings extended across his ribs were all there. The rest, the phoenix, wings protracted on his back, the embedded Celtic cross tattoo, the patchwork of minor designs weaving it all together to become a single piece of artwork with smaller images engraved in its hidden meanings. It was thousands of hours of work. Years, maybe even. But nothing there was hers. Everything spoke of violence, loss, pain, anger, but nothing said her.
The Devil's Beauty (Crime Lord Interconnected Standalone Book 2) Page 41