Avenge :Romanian Mob Chronicles(91)

She cried out and I increased the pressure and then relented, repeated the motion until she was panting, her body tense with her pleasure. I put my hand at the center of her back again and pushed her down as I rocked up. I moved inside her in a frantic motion as I continued to tease and stroke her clit, and with each motion, her pussy fluttered, pulling in a tight hold that threatened my control.

And then, on a harsh cry, she came apart in my arms, her sex clamping down on me in the most delicious hold. It was nearly enough to send me with her, but I pulled back, wanting, needing, to make this last.

I thrust up into her again, her tightness hugging me in the most exquisite grip, one that I knew I wouldn’t be able to resist for much longer. So I anchored one hand on her hip and the other around the base of my cock, squeezing hard to stave off my climax.

She grunted a protest when I lifted her off me and turned her face down in a pretty little pout. I understood where she was coming from, missed being inside her, connected with her, even after only a second apart.

I turned until she was under me, the curves of her body calling to me, making me want to touch her, all of her at once. My hands almost shook with my need, the desire that had me on the ragged edge. But I held back, touched her shoulder, the light, lingering touch not nearly revealing the depth of my need.

Using that same light touch, I trailed down, slowing to graze her full breast before I moved lower, down the soft swell of her stomach to rest between her thighs. The wet heat that met my fingertips sent my stomach clenching and my cock hardening to the point of pain.

But I ignored it and focused on her, paying attention to her breaths, her movements as I stroked her, tightened my hand on her heavy thigh as I slipped a finger into her heat. Even though she had taken my cock, she was tight, so tight that I only added a second when she was so wet that her inner thighs were slick with the proof of her desire.

I moved my fingers as deep as they could go and then pulled them out, the friction of her tissue against my fingers making me remember how they’d felt around my shaft, making me unable to go another second without feeling it again.

I withdrew my fingers slowly, but then quickly replaced them with my cock, wanting to go slowly but unable to contain the urgent need to be one with her again.

“Lily, Lily,” I chanted when I was buried inside her, the spasm of her pussy around my shaft making it impossible for me to do anything else except thrust almost wildly.

Her body went rigid with her climax, her hands tight on my sweat-slicked arms, her panted-out breaths in my ear leaving me no choice but to follow her.





Eleven





Lily





“What are you thinking?” he asked a long time later.

The words rumbled from his chest, the vibration intensified by his arms around me, his warm, smooth skin against my cheek. Hearing it, hearing the muted thud of his steady heartbeat, made me feel safe…happy. I shouldn’t have felt either, not with him, probably not with anyone else, but I did, too happy, too safe to do anything but close my eyes and wish that I could stay here forever.

“Why do you think I’m thinking something?”

“I can hear you,” he said, tracing a finger along my cheek, the touch gentle yet strong.

I shivered despite myself, my promises to stay distant, keep my head, fading away. It was an impossible task, especially when I was like this, sharing an intimacy with him that I had never shared with anyone else. Seeing a side of him I doubted he had ever shared with anyone else.

It felt real, like two normal people finding each other, made it far too easy to forget that I was at war with him, with all that he stood for, even if he didn’t know it.

I went rigid at that thought, feeling wrong, like I was dishonoring something special, something sacred, with my deception.

“It’s okay. You can ask me. I’ll answer if I can,” he whispered, tightening his arms around me.

I wanted to sink into that embrace, return it, which only made me feel worse. I had made a promise, had dedicated my life to vengeance, but that promise seemed small, insignificant in this moment.

And maybe that was the worst of all. I was betraying Braden, betraying my promise to myself. Lying to Anton. The thought brought me up short when I realized how much that mattered to me, how the idea of lying to Anton, the very thing I’d been doing since the moment I laid eyes on him, bothered me almost as much as my betrayal of Braden. But one couldn’t exist without the other, a fact that I couldn’t untangle now, might not be able to ever.

“It’s nothing,” I finally said, my voice muffled as I burrowed my face into his side, breathed in his scent, wanting to be close to him, even closer if that was possible, and also unable to look at him for fear of what he might see.