Un-fucking-believable. All Stella has to do is look at me, and I’m a fucking mess. And by the look of triumph in her eyes, she knows it.
Ah, milaya. You really shouldn’t have done your victory lap yet. I’m not done with you. Not by a long shot.
I pull my mouth off her, just to grab her attention. Once I have it, and her eyes are back on me, I let out a wolfish smirk and mouth, “Your turn.”
That’s all the warning I give, before my mouth latches onto her clit once more, my cum-coated fingers itching to run up and down her slit. I wait to hear her tell me to stop. I wait for her to kick me and pull away. But when she doesn’t say a word, doesn’ttry to break free, it’s all the consent I need to slowly glide my fingers on her pussy, before angling two digits at her entrance.
“Kill,” I hear her say my name, making any movement I had planned have a quick death.
I pull away and tilt my head back to look at her and wait on bated breath for her to say her peace.
“Yeah?” I whisper, my cock suddenly coming back to life just by the way she breathed out my name.
“Stop fucking around and make me come already.”
The words are supposed to have a bite to them, but they don’t. All I hear is the suffering in her voice, the need for a release by my hand.
I don’t lose time with words and use the pad of my tongue to draw little circles on her clit while slowly thrusting my digits into her hot pussy. My eyes close of their own accord at how tight she is, how her walls seem to want to strangle my fingers and never let them go.
Fuck!
I slide them in and out, slow at first, so she can get used to their feel. Proof of her arousal begins to drip down her thigh as I curve my fingers to hit every pressure point I can find. I know I hit the right one when she lets go of the wall and clutches a fistful of my hair to keep her balance. Her legs begin to shake as I speed up my thrusts, driving my fingers in and out of her pussy, my cum and her arousal now entangled and smeared as one.
“Faster!” she cries out, no longer keeping her words to herself. “Just like that, Kill. Oh, fuck. That’s it. Right there. Yes… yes… YES!” she shouts at the top of her lungs, riding my face as I fuck her with my fingers.
My cock is hard as steel with the sound of her loud wails, and when I tip her over the edge, the fucker comes in unison with her, her cries of ecstasy too much for it to bear. She rides her orgasm out on my face, slowing her dance as she falls back fromthe heavens. And when her legs threaten to buckle, I grab her waist and gently pull her onto my lap, her head nestling on my chest, as my arms lock themselves around her.
Stella’s face is beautifully flushed, the afterglow making her look almost ethereal. I swear I’ve never seen real beauty until this exact moment. Words scrape like sandpaper on my tongue as I fight to keep my own emotions under control.
Only when her breathing evens out do I even dare to say a word. “Can I see you tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow?” she echoes as if half asleep, her gaze still heavy-lidded, pupils wide and dark.
“Yes,milaya. Tomorrow,” I repeat, brushing her hair lovingly away from her face.
I take a mental picture of her just like this. Stella is usually all fire and fury—sharp retorts, raised hackles, a spark waiting to ignite. But right now? She’s soft in a way that is completely disarming. Not delicate—never that. More like a storm that’s momentarily stilled, quiet enough for me to see the peace simmering underneath. The soft beauty she tries to hide from the world. And fuck, it doesn’t do something to me.
“I… I can’t,” she says, as if remembering herself and who she’s supposed to be.
Stella gently pushes her head away from my chest, enough to create the distance she needs to slip off my lap and rise to her feet. My forehead pulls tight in disappointment, watching her smooth out her rumpled dress and tuck every loose strand of hair back in its place.
“I see,” I hear myself say, cold and clipped, mimicking her stance and fixing my own clothes. But my performance must not be as good as hers, because she sees right through it.
“Don’t get your panties in a twist, Kill,” she snaps, kicking her own torn panties around her ankle to the air and snatchingthem before I can. “I’ve got things to do tomorrow that can’t be postponed, that’s all.”
“May I ask what?” I raise a brow, unimpressed by her vagueness.
“No, you may not.” She starts to turn away, but I slide an arm out and catch her, pressing her gently back to the wall.
She’s lying. Not about being busy, but about using it as an excuse to push me away. Maybe she’s the smart one here. Nothing good can come from wanting Romano’s daughter. She should be nothing more than a piece in the game, leverage to get closer to Kira. That is all she was ever supposed to be. But then there’s the one variable I never accounted for—me wanting her. Wanting her in ways that have nothing to do with strategy, nothing to do with obligation, and everything to do with the way she looks at me. As if her darkness knew and understood mine. And that want—that raw, vicious desire to keep her—is far too real to ignore.
“Let me go, Kirill,” she says, fire flashing in her eyes.
I’m about to do just that when a more maddening thought passes through my head.
“Are you meeting someone else tomorrow?” I ask, my voice coming out rougher than I intend. “Another lover?”
I sound jealous. I sound fucking insane. And still, I don’t have it in me to care. I need to know whether another man is touching what’s mine.
