Page 80 of Deceitful Vows

The scent I refused to wash off tonight adds to the goose bumps popping up over my skin. It isn’t solely pricy aftershave. It is a mixture of smells that conjure up memories of sheet-clenching sex, and it sends my head into a tailspin.

I don’t need a drawer of sex toys to come anymore. I just need that delicious smell.

No longer capable of playing the daft card, I say, “Andr?—”

“Shh,” interrupts a whispered voice close enough to announce the cause of the dip at the end of my mattress near my ankles. “We need to be quiet.”

As quickly as fret slicked my skin with sweat, anger dries it.

“No.Youneed to be quiet.Ican do whatever the fuckIwant.”

You shouldn’t be able to hear a smirk. I swear I can.

It is so obvious that Andrik is relishing my defiance that it fortifies my determination to give him the full shebang.

“You need to go home, back to yourwife.”

The slip-up at the end of my sentence is easily forgivable when you learn how quickly Andrik can make my body pliable to his touch. His lips barely nibble on my ankle, yet the wave in my stomach is on the verge of cresting.

It almost topples when he says, “I don’t want her. I wantyou.” His hand slides up my thigh, growling when he realizes I am without panties. “And I will have you. I just need you to be patient until it is safe. Until I can guarantee I can protect you better than I did my mother.”

I can’t see him, but I can feel his determination. I continue to fight, though, to remember my anger. His rejection hurt me today, and I’m notorious for lashing out when hurt. Why should my quirks be any different for him?

“I don’t need your protection. I own a gun, and I know how to use it.”

“Good.” The level of praise in his gravelly voice doubles the height of the goose bumps dotting my skin. He sounds genuinely pleased. “Perhaps after I’ve made you come you can show it to me.”

I squirm up the bed. “You’re not going to make me come. I don’t need you to make me come. I’m perfectly capable of making myself come.”

Underneath the bedding, his hot breaths batter my skin when he backhands my clit before murmuring, “Lie to me again,?????,and not even my hand marks on your ass will save you from my wrath.”

“Who said I’m lying?” I force the words through lips dying to release the moans rumbling in my chest.

Quicker than I can fathom, the bedding is pulled across my body, leaving me exposed and vulnerable.

“This…” I stammer in a sharp breath when his fingers play at the wetness between my legs. “Your hands barely caused a trickle.” Again, he backhands my clit, sending a fiery warmth across my midsection. “I’ve hardly touched you, yet you’re already drenched”—my eyes are slowly adjusting. I don’t need the room lit up like daylight to know he inches closer before finalizing his sentence, though—“forme.”

I kick at the heat licking at my feet enough for Andrik to grunt. There’s no real power behind my whack. No real anger. I didn’t lie when I said my morals are obliterated when I’m horny. They’re nowhere to be seen since there was more assurance in his tone than haughtiness.

Part of me is furious I let this get this far. The other part, the clearly unethical part, won’t let anything stop it. Shock waves of pleasure careen down over me, making me a shuddering mess, and I am desperate to come. But can I do this? Can I disregard another woman’s feelings so my ego can be stroked?

No, I can’t.

“You can’t be here. You need to go. I don’t want you here.” With words not getting through to him, I get desperate. “Mikhail could come back at any?—”

A hand clamps my mouth shut at the same time a warm and probing tongue invades my pussy. It spears in deep before it does a long, leisurely lick of my insides.

One lick and my campaign to be on the right side of good is undone.

As my thighs sweep open, pleasure cascades down my spine.

Two fingers slip between my legs next. They gather up the wetness before dipping into my pussy at the same unhurried pace of his tongue.

My brain screams at me to buck him off me and make out this isn’t exactly what I am craving, but since I am as desperate for him to bestow my clit with a heap of attention as I am to stop this, I breathe through the sensation threatening to swallow me whole and act like the submissive I will never be.

It is an act worthy of an Oscar, but the instant Andrik’s tongue curls around my clit, I crumble like a dried mud pie left on the asphalt being run over by a Mack truck.

An orgasm crashes through me as frantically as a tsunami races to shore. It is uncontrollable. Wild. And devastating.

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