Page 63 of Devil’s Promise

She takes it without question, the wet slide of her lips so good, my eyes close for a second, just feeling.

But the visual is too good, so I force them open again, and watch as I sink deep inside, stretching her mouth around my girth.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” I snarl even as I pull back out and then push in again.

Promise lets me fuck her face, her slurps and chokes making it so good, I’m throbbing with the need to cum again.

This is not how men usually work. But I’m not complaining as my balls tighten up, the pump of my hips growing faster, jerky as I grab the headboard, just trying to hang on before I blow, spewing more cum down her throat.

Her eyes are watering, her mouth is red, her cheeks are puffed out, but she looks up at me and gives me a small smile.

Like she’s pleased with herself.

I’m bending over to kiss the mouth I’ve made a complete mess of, shoving my tongue between her lips to taste my cum on her tongue.

It makes me fucking hot all over again as I devour her. “You need another, baby?”

She shakes her head, even as she stretches under me. “What I need is some sleep.”

I can’t argue with that. We’ve got a busy day tomorrow. I lie down next to her pulling her into my side. “I meant my promises, Promise.”

She burrows into me, her head resting on my chest, an arm and a leg around me. “I believe you.”

Those words settle over me like some blanket. I want to be a man who can be believed. I’ve always wanted that. Now I just have to hope that belief is enough.

I wake to the sun streaming into the loft’s giant windows.

Promise is still asleep, wrapped around me, her body warm and so comfortable, I can’t bring myself to disturb her.

But I’ve got shit to do.

Today, hell or high water, Promise and I are getting married. Hell or high water…it’s a phrase my third foster mother loved.

It fits me. I am called the Devil, and a choice between drowning and burning is basically where I’m at.

Slowly, I ease out from under her, kissing her temple and then pick up my shorts from the floor. I pull them up to my waist before I pocket my phone and my keys.

Instead of the elevator, I head to the stairwell that leads down to the garage. The elevator makes too much noise. Trotting down the stairs, I hit the button for the trunk and pop open the back, pulling out the briefcase I’d stuffed in there last night.

I undo the latches and pull out the contract from Don. Then I go over each and every section as I sit on the edge of my trunk, carefully checking the verbiage, the meaning behind each addendum.

I’m almost done when my phone rings. I half expect it to be Promise wondering where I went, but Gunner’s name appears on the screen.

“Brother.”

“Brother,” he answers. “We need to talk.”

I release a long breath. I’ve got enough going on today. “Can it wait?”

“No,” he bites back. “Rock and I are just around the corner. Knox is a minute behind.”

“Axel?”

“He’s out of pocket. Still hasn’t come back,” Gunner says with enough bite that I know he’s pissed about it.

It makes me uneasy. Has Axel decided to bounce? I grimace, but I can’t do anything about it now.

The gate to the garage slides open, Gunner’s Porsche pulls into the space next to mine. As promised, just behind him is Knox in his giant SUV.