At this, he snorted. Tongue clicking as he turned my chin first to the left, and then the right. Obsidian glare flicking over my features, he inspected his work with a critical eye. Admiring cheeks stained with the remnants of his come. Cheeks flushed a deep, shameful shade of pink, warm with a heat that refused to fade. And my hair—pulled loose. Disheveled by his hand. “No,” he said at length, and helped me up. “Not from where I stand.”
I went.
Legs rubbery, I let him lift me without a flicker of protest. Didn’t react when he pulled at the knot tied at my nape, hardly daring to breathe when the silk fell in a ripple of liquid fabric.
He laid me out in his sheets.
Naked.
Sopping wet, my nipples rosy beads of pebbled need. The room spinning above and around me as he tugged the blankets up and let me cocoon. Back into my nest of gloomy comfort that reeked of him.
He was gone and back before the room stopped spinning. A damp, warm cloth set against my cheeks, he washed away the stains with a gentle hand, then stripped.
I watched him without a blink. Tracking his every movement, devouring every exposed inch of bronzed skin and rippling muscle. My eyes pausing on his prick. Still standing stiff, still aching with the need to slake his lust.
He made space for himself in my nest. Nudging until I rolled and gave up my back, neck twisting, so I might watch when he set one hand on my hip. Long fingers peeling me apart where I was sodden and slick, he sent his cock through my folds from behind. The glide unhindered except for a delicious friction that made me gush.
“Insatiable little virgin,” he drawled, arms winding tight about my ribs, he squeezed and slipped inside on a long, slow thrust. Filling me on a guttural groan, he bottomed out. Striking something deep inside that made me shudder before my spine went liquid. “Sleep,” he whispered, and made a pillow of his bicep beneath my ear.
For several long seconds, I couldn’t draw breath. Shocked silent, the protest that was poised on my lips was one I couldn’t utter.
Not without admitting I ached for him to move.
Not without begging him to fuck me hard from the back. To ride me until I was sobbing and begging him to come, just so I could feel that delicious kick of his cock gushing when he couldn’t take it anymore.
I let one knee fall forward, thighs crossing, I squeezed him from root to throbbing tip. Trying to entice.
He groaned, sluicing through the mess, but aside from burrowing deep as he could, that was all before he succumbed to his own command.
Exhaustion pounded through the bond. Drugging and heavy, it warred with the fire still raging in the cradle between my hips.
I fell asleep to the sound of his blood rushing through his veins. An ocean roaring beneath my ear. My every appetite satisfied. Stretched, stuffed full. Debased and swaddled inside and out by a man I hated.Passionately.
My enemy.
Sleepy eyes glanced toward his desk, where a secret gift would have to wait just a little longer…
17
The morning brought bleary-eyed confusion. Dark before the dawn, in the small hours where I could still believe my own lies, my hips worked to silence the screaming ache for relief.
I moaned as I felt him grow stiff inside me. Filling me in twitching inches, slick with gushing cream that begged for the rough friction of an easy, welcome glide.
He pressed a cocky, sleepy smile to my shoulder. Nibbling at the spot beneath my ear as he rolled inside. Once, straining at my end just to feel me shudder around him. “I thought I would miss the fight,” he murmured, voice hoarse with sleep. Seizing a handful of fat, he kneaded my breast. Pinched my nipple until I mewled and clenched. “But to have you like this? Easy. Soaking wet. Desperate and insatiable.” His free hand slipped over my hip to cup my mound and roll my clit between his fingers. “Begging to ride my dick like you’re going to drown without it?” He made a sound that was caught somewhere between lust and greed.
I rolled my neck, trying to move against him where I was pinned and skewered.
“You’re wrong,” he growled. “I’ll never grow tired of this”—he drove deeper inside—“and I’ll never let you go.”
Squinting, I twisted to pin him with a bewildered glance. Shaking my head. “Please—”
He kissed me, then. Going still. Lingering, he pressed the heel of his palm against my clit, making me throb and clench, but that was all. “As much as I’m looking forward to hearing you beg for my come,” he said, and withdrew, “it’ll have to wait. We’ve got business to attend. Cousins to bury.”
The funeral.
I’d forgotten.
Allowing myself to be seduced by his influence, only too happy to ignore the mysterious burden that was Sasha’s gift.
