Total pages in book: 153
Estimated words: 148962 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 745(@200wpm)___ 596(@250wpm)___ 497(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 148962 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 745(@200wpm)___ 596(@250wpm)___ 497(@300wpm)
“So fucking soaked for me,” he rasps. “You like the idea of me claiming you while he’s just down the hall?”
I bite my lip and nod, forgetting he can’t see me. He nips at my clit, and I gasp.
“Say it.” A quiet dominance laces his words. “Tell me you want me to fuck you where he could catch us.”
A frisson of terror moves through me at the thought, but I can’t deny the truth of his words.
“I want you to fuck me where he can catch us.”
“Would you make him watch as you come on my face?” He sweeps his tongue over me again, hitting me right where I need him.
“Yes.” My spine bows at the contact.
“Tell me why, Gabi.”
I release a shaky breath, wondering if I’ll sound like a monster if I admit it. But for once, I don’t care.
“Because…I hate him.”
A soft, reverent kiss presses against my inner thigh. “Want me to kill him?”
I can’t help the awkward laugh that bursts from my chest.
“I wasn’t joking.” He teases the words against me, and something dark slithers through me—a desire I really don’t want to acknowledge.
My life would be better if Riccardo were dead, but I can’t wish that on him. So I do what I normally do in these situations and pretend it didn’t happen.
Eros licks at me with slow, lazy strokes of his tongue. It’s almost torturous, and that aching pressure inside me feels like a slow-burning flame creeping through my veins.
My fingers dig into the sofa, unable to find purchase, so I reach down and grip his hair instead.
A dark laugh rumbles from his chest as he offers me another soft stroke of his tongue.
“Please,” I beg.
“Please, what?” He presses his mouth against me and sucks, and a strangled noise catches in my throat. “Are you aching for it, baby?”
“Yes.” I tilt my hips, desperate for more friction.
“Now you know how I feel when I see you with him.”
Somewhere in the foggy part of my brain, I realize he’s telling me he has seen me with Riccardo, and it sounds like more than once. The rational part of me wants to grab onto that fact and ask more, but the baser part of me really doesn’t care right now.
“I don’t have a choice,” I groan. “Please, I need—”
“I know what you need.” He swirls his tongue around my clit, and I almost sigh with relief as he deepens the pressure.
“Gabi?” A familiar voice echoes down the hallway as footsteps approach.
The annoyance in Riccardo’s voice pulls a sound of amusement from Eros. I don’t know how he knows it’s him, but I can tell he does.
“Be a good girl, and come on my face,” he hums.
The heat of his words rushes over me as he grips my thighs tighter and starts to devour me.
I bite my lip to stifle the sounds spilling from my throat, but I can’t control them.
It feels so intense, my entire body begins to tremble as the pressure inside me builds.
“Gabi, where the hell are you?” Riccardo calls out again.
“Oh God.” The first contraction rips through me and a cascade of pleasure follows in its wake.
Eros draws it out, wringing every last aftershock from my body until it becomes too much.
“What the fuck is going on tonight?” Riccardo grumbles to himself.
I barely register his words as Eros eases his body over mine, settling his weight between my thighs.
I reach up and graze his jaw, and he turns his head, nipping at my fingers.
Riccardo continues to pace the hallway, and the doorknob rattles, but doesn’t open.
A deranged satisfaction winds its way through me as I reach down and fumble with Eros’s belt. After I get it undone, I slide his zipper down and stroke him through his briefs.
The sound he makes nearly unravels me. He’s so hard, he has to be in agony.
“Please,” I whisper. “I want to feel you.”
“So polite when you ask me to fuck you.”
“Eros—” I peel down his briefs and slide my fingers over his warm, velvety skin.
“Tell me his name,” he says.
“Who?”
“Your megalodon.”
I freeze as the question enters my thoughts.
There’s no way he could possibly know I inadvertently pictured Romeo’s face behind the mask. But my guilty conscience seems to think otherwise.
It’s not intentional. It’s my mind filling in the blanks I can’t.
Romeo and I have nothing. We are nothing—except two people with battle wounds and too much history to forget.
“I don’t want to,” I answer quietly.
“Worried I’ll get jealous?” He thrusts into my fist, and my thighs clench as the empty space inside me aches for him.
“I…don’t know?” My voice catches.
“Is he who you think about when I touch you?”
I stiffen, and I’m sure he can feel it. This is a dangerous game, and I don’t know how to navigate it. I don’t want to be dishonest, but I still feel protective of Romeo.