Taking a long drag from my cigarette, I held it in my lungs until it burned. Then I exhaled slow, like that would somehow clear the mess in my head.
It didn’t.
Violet was finally asleep, but not until after I made her come another time. But this time it was on my fingers, so I could watch her break for me.
Then rather than sleep like a normal person, she’d sat there and drew pictures. For hours, because apparently her brain couldn’t simply just shut off. Now it was past midnight, and I’d pulled the chair to sit beside her bed, watching her sleep like some creep, but only after she scolded me for fucking her raw.
Jesus Christ, like, I understood the concern. I never fucked without a condom. Ever. It was a non-negotiable rule, and like every other line I thought I’d never cross,Violet shattered it without even trying.
A soft light glowed from the far side of the room, casting a faint halo over the second bed. Reluctantly, I forcedmyself to stand from the armchair, leaning in for a closer look.
The Russian Prick:
?????.
Rolling my eyes, I pressed down on the word and translated it.Downstairs.
Roman had been insistent I learn Russian. Less for practicality, more to train me into becoming his personal bitch. I was entertaining it mostly because he was my best friend, and I needed him for his connections more than he needed me for my sarcasm.
Me:
On my way.
I gave Violet one last look, and something in me itched to touch her. To run my fingers across her skin. To count every freckle, not because it meant anything, but because it would give me an excuse to stay when all I usually did was leave.
Shit.
The glow of my cigarette flared between my lips, casting faint shadows where her lashes kissed her cheeks.
Inhale for the burn, exhale the smoke.
In… and out.
Over and over.
I may have gone through more than a few cigarettes, but that wasn’t my problem. Not really. My problem washer.
I’d always hated addiction, or anything that stripped away control. I’d never touched drugs. Never understood the kind of weakness that led someone to need them, even though I’d witnessed it firsthand for years. I didn’t even drink to excess, and while I smoked, I could quit anytime I wanted.
But Violet tasted like an addiction. Something I’d crave like my next breath. And the only way to kill an addiction like that is to cut it off cold.
Violet
Heat consumed me, blooming from between my thighs and forcing a moan from my lips. Something slick and insistent stroked over my core, and my hand flew down on instinct, tangling in hair. The low vibration against my clit had my back arching off the bed.
Ryder’s grip only tightened, his arms caging my hips, pinning me to his mouth. His licks were ruthless, the flat of his tongue lapping deliberate strokes that had me gasping.
My body was already on the edge, and I had no idea how long he’d been going down on me in my sleep. “Ryder?” I groaned, caught between the agony of too much sensation and the desperate need for more.
Of course the bastard didn’t stop, instead doubling his efforts. One hand shot up to clamp down on my breast, fingers pinching my nipple hard enough to sting while the other plunged inside me with no hesitation.
My walls clamped around the intrusion, my orgasm teetering so violently it left me breathless, choking on his name.
He pushed me through it, dragging me higher, tearing the release out of me until it bordered on pain. But still Ryder wasn’t done, lapping at me as if I was his last meal. He devoured me like a punishment, like he wouldn’t besatisfied until I was wrecked, trembling, and begging for mercy.
“Five to two, blondie,” he chuckled, giving me a final lick across my oversensitive pussy. “Don’t ever tell me I don’t treat you.”
I took a moment to catch my breath, my body sticky with sweat. “I was asleep.”
