Avenge :Romanian Mob Chronicles(88)

He withdrew from me, and then pulled out of my embrace and turned so that he sat on the bed, his back to me. Only seconds had passed with him inside me, yet I missed acutely, wanted him back.

I hazarded a glance at him, saw his muscled, inked back rise and fall with his harsh, heavy breaths. Could see the way his dark hair curled at the edges, damp with the same sheen of sweat that covered his arms, his back, and the small patch of chest I could make out in the sun.

“You didn’t think that was important, Lily?” he asked.











Anton





“Think what was important?” she said.

I turned, stared at her, the dark buds of her beaded nipples only distracting me momentarily. When I lifted my gaze to her face, I saw that she knew exactly what I meant.

“You’re angry,” she said.

“Furious,” I corrected, and her eyes widened as she looked at my face, my expression no doubt as thunderous as the rage that roiled in my chest. I still could hardly comprehend it, but then she fluttered her eyelashes, face questioning but not as agitated as it should have been or as I knew mine was.

“Why?” she asked, frowning. “Did I…?”

“Don’t pretend, Lily,” I said, impressed when I managed to push the words out around the anger that had moved from my chest and lodged in my throat. Either she was playing me or she was clueless. I couldn’t decide which was worse.

“I’m not,” she said, sounding so sincere I couldn’t stop myself from looking at her after I’d looked away. Yeah, she was clueless, and that was definitely worse. Her bewildered expression told me she had no idea of the significance of what she’d offered me, the kind of things it made me imagine, the things it would make me hope for if I weren’t careful.

“Why didn’t you tell me you are a virgin?” I gritted out.

“Was,” she whispered.

“What?” I snapped impatiently.

“I was a virgin,” she replied.

I stood then, unable to remain still, angry at her, angrier at myself, and so hard and desperate with desire that my cock throbbed with need.

I needed to get out of here, didn’t trust myself to resist her pull. Coming here in the first place had been a mistake, an out-of-character loss of control. Staying would be beyond that, stupid in a way that I would have thought myself incapable of once. And staying was a risk, one of the gravest I’d ever faced. Because Lily tempted me, made me want impossible things like love and forever.

Neither was an option.

I grabbed my pants, moving them as best I could around my rigid shaft.

“Please, don’t leave,” she said.

Something in her voice stilled me, and I turned, looked at her again. “I’d like you to stay.”

“And do what?” I spat.

“Finish what we started,” she responded, her eyes still soft with her desire but lit by an edge of anger that I didn’t miss.

“Why would I do that?” I said.

“Because you want me,” she replied.

A stupid question when I thought about it. One look at me, my steel-solid cock practically straining toward her, and anyone could see that I wanted her.

“What I want doesn’t matter,” I said, choosing to ignore the obvious, undeniable truth that I wanted her so badly I didn’t know if I’d be able to leave her.

“What about what I want?” she asked, sitting up on the edge of the bed as I had done only moments ago.

I paused, attention captured by the gentle sway of her full breasts, gaze tracing her body, snagging on the spots where the afternoon sun created shadows and on the smooth rounds of her curves as she stood and walked toward me.

My insides thrummed with need, but I finally said, “And what do you want, Lily?”

She reached out, placed a hand on my thigh, knuckles just grazing my shaft. “You.”

The simple word held a wealth of meaning, and when I met her eyes, I saw the truth in it, and in the breath that passed, my resolve crumbled.

There had never been a time in my life, ever, when someone had wanted me. Not Anton, Christoph Constantin’s right hand or Anton, the one who could clean up any mess. But it was different here with Lily.

She only wanted me, something that no one in my entire life had.

That truth was my undoing. It unraveled the last wispy threads of my control, made it impossible for me to leave. Because I wanted that, to know what it was like to be wanted for only myself.

And I wanted her.

Needed her.

I rooted around in my pocket and then dropped my pants back on the floor. Then, I slid the other foil packets onto her nightstand, discarded the condom I wore, and brushed past her and sat on her bed, my back propped against the thin headboard that at first groaned under my weight but then settled.