Didn’t she realize that Abramovicz wouldn’t have been doing Vasov a favor?
He’d have been drooling over her since she’d first been promised to him. Maybe even before, the perverted bastard. And now she had those tits, sweet Lord.
She must have realized where I was looking, because a smile danced on her mouth. It pissed me off that one of the Sinners must have paid for them, but hell, they were mine to play with forever now.
“You’re beautiful, Camille. I’m glad you weren’t wasted on that cunt.”
Her smile was like the sun appearing on a darkened horizon. The stars, the moon, the sky itself had no choice but to fade away under its beaming power.
I found myself staring at her a moment too long, before she murmured, “I’ve only ever had cold sake before.”
Clearing my throat, I decided she was wise to change the topic. Picking up my chopsticks again, I popped a salmon nigiri into some soy sauce, explaining, “Declan, my brother, told me chilled sake was for wannabes.” I grinned then popped the sushi into my mouth and savored the bite. “He said that premium sake should be enjoyed at room temperature, not chilled like everyone says. I tried it with him, and I’ve never gone back.”
“He’s younger than you, isn’t he?”
“He is. They’re all younger than me apart from Aidan Jr,” I told her. “You’ll meet them all tomorrow.”
Another smile danced on her lips. “Oh, you’re all in alphabetical order. How did I only just realize that?”
My nose crinkled. “Original, right?”
“Well, it makes it easier for me.” She hesitated, then asked, “Finn O’Grady’s Aidan’s age, isn’t he? I, just, well, I mean, he looks older than Eoghan, you know?”
“I’m surprised you know him.”
“He’s in the society pages, plus, Inessa mentioned his wife and their son to me a few times. I saw his picture in the hall too.”
I shrugged. “Yeah, there’s a couple of months’ age gap between him and Aidan. But he isn’t blood, don’t forget. He’s a brother, but more like an adoptive one.”
Her eyes rounded. “Oh.”
“He moved in with us when he was a teenager,” I explained. “Ma and Da are like his adopted parents. They treat Jake as if he’s their grandkid and everything.”
“Right. Good to know.” Her smile was genuine, but something in her expression had me frowning. Before I could ask what the problem was, she questioned, “So, Declan knows everything about sake but isn’t a wannabe?”
Snickering at that, I explained, “Declan’s a poser, sure, but he’s obsessed with all things Asia. He’s got me hooked on quite a few things over the years.”
She turned a little in her seat, moving into me like this was an intimate meal. Like we were dating. Instead, we’d bypassed all that shit and were married.
I’d come to see if I’d regret that in time, but I’d have regretted letting her loose and not living up to the honor I vowed to live by. Sure, my honor code was a little more skewed than most, but I had standards.
Either way, I liked that she moved into me. She didn’t have to do that. She could have stayed where she was, only allowing the bridge of my hand on her thigh to connect us. But she didn’t.
She charged things up a notch.
“What like? What did he introduce you to?”
“Pho? Some Thai dishes. But I prefer sushi. That’s my favorite.” I wrinkled my nose. “This is exotic by comparison to the kind of food we grew up eating. Da likes nothing that he considers ‘foreign.’”
“That rules out a lot of food.”
“Having met him now, do you think he cares about that?” I said wryly. “The man’s a walking ‘-ist.’”
“Is that why he doesn’t approve of me?”
“Because you’re Russian? Nah. It’s because there’s no deal to be had or to make. I told you, there’s no divorce with us. No matter how hard he huffs or puffs, this is it.”
“No offense, Brennan, but you’re not exactly twenty-five anymore—”
My lips twisted. “Thank you.”
Her cheeks turned a charming shade of pink. “I just mean, well, he can’t think you’d let him lead you around? Wouldn’t he have done that already if that were the case?”
“He’s tried to get me and Aidan to marry in the past, but we never bit, and we always managed to get out of it.”
“He must have let you.”
“I think...” I pursed my lips. “This is a deep conversation for a public restaurant.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.” She grimaced. “I thought it was open season for questions.”
I shrugged, because she wasn’t wrong. I had just asked her about her virginity over sashimi. “No need to apologize. Most things where the family is concerned are deep unfortunately.” I heaved a sigh. “Anyway, I’m the one who’s sorry. I didn’t expect tonight to go well, but I didn’t think we’d be leaving as soon as we got there.”
“Everyone knows his reputation,” she pointed out gently. “He’s renowned for being volatile.”
“And he’s getting worse,” I muttered, squeezing her thigh. “I mean it though, Camille. I’m sorry.”
Her smile was gentle as she caught my eye. “Thank you, Brennan. It’s not your fault though.”
No, it wasn’t, but I’d spent a lifetime paying for my father’s mistakes and his volatile temper. It was second nature to apologize for it, and even more important that I did so to the woman I’d be stuck with for the rest of my life.
One day, you’ll look back on today, on how hard it was, and you’ll smile. You’ll be grateful you made it.
Thirty
Camille
That he was chivalrous shouldn’t have come as a surprise to me, but it did.
He opened doors for me, helped me out of the car. When I went to use the restroom, he got to his feet as well and aided me back into my seat.
The advantage of dating an older man, I supposed.
I’d never dated a younger man who’d do that, and Nyx, well, he’d never think to treat me like a lady.
Brennan did, though.
Even better, he acted as if I was a fire hydrant he had to piss on.
Most women might have disliked that, but I adored it. I loved the glares he shot at male patrons in the restaurant, I loved how he moved his chair so that we were in each other’s private space. I loved the hand he clamped to my thigh, and the way he stuck close to my side as if I was precious to him.
I loved it all.
And I wanted more.
I felt like a flower who’d been left to grow in a shady part of the garden, and who’d just been repotted in a sunny spot. As if, at long last, I could grow massive blooms, blossom how nature intended.
The best part?
This was now.
When he barely knew me.
What would he be like when we’d been together a while?
I almost shivered at the thought.
Of course, he noticed.
“Are you cold?”
I shook my head, watching him watch me in the mirror lining the elevator.
“Then why the shiver?” A filthy smirk creased his lips as he turned to me. “Thinking dirty thoughts?”
“Maybe,” I whispered, peering up at him, aware that I was encouraging him and wanting nothing more.
Somehow, I’d triggered this caveman-like response in him and I wasn’t about to stop.
With that in mind, I let my coat fall open, revealing the deep V of my blouse and the skirt I’d rucked up slightly so that it was short enough to raise eyebrows, never mind dicks.
I’d walked bare-assed naked, or almost, amid a crowd of rowdy bikers, so I wasn’t nervous or embarrassed, but I hadn’t known him long enough to be able to read him, or to predict his responses.
When his gaze dropped to my tits, I knew that I’d be wearing low necklines for the foreseeable future, if not forever. His nostrils flared at the sight, the bag the maître d’ handed him as we were leaving fe
ll to the floor with a dull thunk, and he reached over, cupping one of them even as he was charging forward, tangling our legs together as he pushed me into the back wall.
His other hand dropped down to my thigh, and his fingers, callused and rough, snagged on the silk stockings I wore, before he found gold in the form of actual flesh.
“I didn’t realize you were wearing thigh-highs,” he rumbled, his eyes on my tits still.
His fingers worked the lacy top of the stockings as I told him, “I’m not.”
He froze, then his gaze drifted to mine. “You’re wearing garters?”
My smile was wicked. “You’ll have to find out, won’t you?”
A growl escaped him as he moved back so he could grab the hem of my skirt and drag it up to my hips. His nostrils flared again when he saw I wasn’t wearing panties, and when his gaze caught on the belt around my waist, that shaped my slim curves, and kept the silk fripperies from tumbling down, I felt the disturbance in the air—like a thunderstorm was rumbling overhead.
He was a constant surprise, so I should have expected him not to react how I thought he would, but when he dropped to his knees and urged my thighs apart, a shocked breath escaped me even as I complied with his wishes.
One hand went to my calf, and he encouraged me to prop my heel on his shoulder, which gave him more room as he went to work on me. His lips unerringly sought my clit, and I didn’t bother staring down at him, just watched him in the mirrors as he ate me out like he hadn’t just eaten.
Like he was starving.
And God, so was I.
In barely no time at all, I went from being as dry as a bone to slick with arousal.
I hadn’t a clue what it was about him, just knew that he could get me this hot with a glance.
My body was accustomed to being used for sex, but I’d never been an active part of the event. My mind skipped out on things as if it was self-preservation. I was used to being fucked, but fucking in return was a treat.
While I’d dressed with respectability in mind, I’d also picked clothes I knew would turn him on, never expecting that he’d turn the cards on me.
He tongue-fucked me, thrusting into my wet pussy, groaning as he did so. Plying my clit with the tip before sucking down on it, he teased me and tormented me, giving me what I needed, making me revel in his caresses as much as I looked forward to what was coming.
In no time at all, he’d trained me to expect orgasms. Lots of them. So many that it was like Christmas morning every time I knew sex was on the horizon.
And why shouldn’t it be that way?
Just because I’d been treated like a cum dumpster before, didn’t mean I couldn’t be cherished and appreciated by someone else where sex was concerned.
My head rolled back against the glass as he ate me out, savoring me like a fine wine, and I let him, unashamed to have him enjoy me as an appetizer for the main course.
One of my hands slipped through the short locks of his hair, and I tugged at it, feeling the silk sliding not only against the palms of my hands but my thighs too.
When the doors pinged, my heart leaped as I half expected someone to be standing there, waiting on the other side, but of course, this was a private elevator and the only thing that happened was it opened onto the front hall of his apartment.
My stupid body didn’t put two and two together, though, and I cried out, hoarse and husky as the climax powered through me like a champion.
Back arching, hips pumping, I rode his mouth as I eked out every last morsel of pleasure, adrenaline making it surge through my veins like the very purest of drugs. A sharp cry burst from my parted lips, and I clenched my eyes closed. Lifting an arm, I tucked my face into the nook of my elbow, needing to hide from how devastating the orgasm was, needing to hide from what this man, of all men, could do to me.
It was probably luck that he seemed to fit into me like a key to a lock, but it was bewildering too.
Knees buckling as they gave out under my weight, I almost fell but he was there, ready to catch me. His lips scented of me as he raised my arm, pressing it against the glass, not letting me hide, not letting me do anything other than face him as our mouths brushed together, and he ate at me much like he had moments earlier.
I shuddered as his fingers found my core once more, and he played with me there, continuing to drive me higher and higher, until I knew I could come again. So fast. Just like that.
A shriek escaped me as I tore my lips from his and I burrowed my face in his throat as I rode his hand. Mewls and whimpers tangled together in my throat as I tried to fight it, tried to fight the ecstasy but it wasn’t possible. It was just... inevitable.
I heard the sounds of a zipper opening, that unmistakable noise of the tines unfastening, and I knew what that meant and I embraced it.
His hand moved away, slick fingers trailing over my thighs as he hefted me up, lifting me against the glass. I raised my arms to hook around his neck, just in time for him to press the tip of his dick against my slickness.
My eyes clenched closed again as the ricocheting delight of his thickness filling me took control of my senses. I screamed when gravity did the rest, impaling me on his shaft, and he let me hover there, my weight doing the work for him as I was forced to deal with just how big he was, how he filled me to perfection.
Arms tightening around his neck, I clung to him, crawling up him almost to ease some of the pressure, but as I did so, he grunted, and I knew why.
It was hard work—God, was it—but I started to rock against him. Crossing my feet at the ankles and digging them into his ass, I tightened my thighs and pulled upward. Each time I did that, he grunted into my ear, and he planted his hands against the mirrors, so that everything was on me.
Every time my muscles gave way, I sank down onto him, so heavily a keening cry was wrung from me, but whenever I almost reached his tip, a high whine escaped me because I felt so empty.
My pussy clung to him throughout, and when he burrowed his face in my throat and bit down, hard, enough to bruise, to mark, I screamed again, unable to stop myself, unable to stop the barrage of pleasure that filled me to the brim.
It was no surprise that his hoarse cries ricocheted around the elevator alongside mine, and our panting breaths merged into one delicious soundtrack as I took a second to savor the magic we made together.
When one of his hands cupped my ass, I thought he was going to lower me to the ground, but he didn’t. He held me closer, one arm sliding to the center of my back, as he directed, “Push the ‘Open Doors’ button.”
I peeked over his shoulder, and found we were by the console. I did as he asked, and the doors whirred open. He strode through, straight down the hall, and carried on to the bedroom. Only when we were standing by the bed did he urge me back, and when he did, he pressed a kiss to my lips, murmuring, “Thank you.”
I didn’t know what to say to that, so I just bowed my head, feeling unbelievably shy as he helped me to my feet. When I was standing there, shaky on my high heels, he supported me as he looked me over.
When I peeped up at him, wondering what he was thinking, I saw the glint in his eyes and basked in it. Once again feeling like that flower which was finally allowed to be in the sun.
There was heat and, even better, possessiveness.
I could see him stamping it all over me.
HIS.
I might as well have flashing lights over my head, and I was more than okay with that.
More than okay.
He reached down and tugged at my skirt, not stopping until it was pooling around my knees and then sinking to the floor. He traced his fingers over the garter belt, then murmured, “You may have just created a problem.”
Concern whipped at me, but I modulated my tone, asking, “What kind of problem?”
“You wear panties again and I might have to make you stand in the corner.”
My lips twitched as relief battered me. “Oh, well, that’s something I can keep up.”
He hummed, his fingers tracing my bare pussy, and I knew he could see the cum starting to seep out, making my inner thighs sticky. His fingers swirled in it and he asked, “Does this bother you?”
Was it comfortable? Not really.
Did it bother me?
“No.”
He narrowed his eyes as he lifted those sticky, filthy fingers and pressed them to my lips. I parted them instantly, letting him stick them in my mouth, cleaning them up as expected. When he went a little too deep and I gagged, that heat flickered into a fire, but I didn’t pull back, just let him fuck my mouth with his cum-soaked digits until he was happy.
A grunt escaped him when he stopped, but I could see from the tension in his jaw that he was ready for round two.
Eagerness filled me, but before I could get too excited, he murmured, “Get into bed. I’ll join you later.”
I blinked at him. “It’s only eleven.”
“You need your sleep.”
I frowned, about to argue, but he tapped my bottom lip. “I’ll join you in a little while.”
My mouth parted, not to accept his fingers, but to argue, “Are you going out?”
“No. I have work to do downstairs.” His eyes darkened. “Rest. I won’t be long.” He pulled back, jaw clenching as he looked me over. I thought he’d go, but he didn’t. His hand grabbed my ass and he squeezed it, dragging me against his chest, rumbling, “Mine, Camille. No other fucker’s.”
Heart in my throat, I whispered, “Yours. No one else’s.”
He grunted again, then let go, only I never wanted him to let me go. I wanted him to hold onto me forever.
Brennan O’Donnelly had started out as a life raft. A last, desperate chance at a future that was of my own making. Now? He was turning into something else. Something far more dangerous than Abramovicz could ever be...
Filthy Sex: The Five Points’ Mob Collection: Four Page 31