Page 89 of Sin & Sapphire

“Open your mouth and stick out your tongue,” I commanded, and she obeyed. Fucking gorgeous.

I wrapped my hands in her hair and shoved my cock forward into her mouth, until her nose hit the tattoo—hertattoo—then held her there until her face turned red from lack of oxygen. I snapped her head back, then forward again, then began roughly fucking her throat.

Her fingers didn’t stop their movement as she rocked back and forth, grinding into her hand as I took my pleasure from her, even as I abused her, knowing I was bruising her, beyond caring.

Finally.

My angel was finally mine.

And with that euphoric thought, pleasure tightened in my spine, and I exploded in her mouth. Her tongue moved frantically against me as she tried to collect my cum, intuiting the requirement to swallow all of it.

Slowly, I drew my cock out of her mouth, only to plunge it back in again, savoring the feeling of her lips and her tongue against me as I painted the inside of her throat with my release.

Ana seized, her entire body stiffening and curling in on itself as she came. She shuddered through her climax, never taking her lips from my cock.

When her fingers finally slowed, she raised her eyes to mine, the pretty bottle green glazed over with the aftereffects of her orgasm, even as tears streamed down her face.

“Ana,” I rasped, dragging her head back so I could bend over and kiss her. The salty taste of my release coated her lips, and I ravaged her mouth, claiming her once again, delighting as she softened, allowing me to plunder her as was my due.

She wrapped her arms around my neck, and I pulled her to her feet. She wobbled but kept her lips glued to mine, tangling her fingers in my hair and holding me close, even as I maneuvered her to lean against me.

Her lips slid against mine, soft and sweet, as she tried to devour me. Little did she know, I intended to do the same to her, until every part of her was mine—her body, her heart, and her soul.

34

ANA

He lockedme in the room again.

I got to my knees without being asked. I sucked his cock because I wanted to. And he fucking locked me in the room again.

Fuck him.

Fuck him for making me think he wanted me for more than sex.

Fuck his faded angel tattoo too. He might want some chimera of me, a sexy phantasm that didn’t have a thing to do with reality, but it wasn’t the real Ana Costa. He wanted me on my knees, and all I wanted?—

I sobbed. I couldn’t admit what I wanted, not even to myself.

So fucking pitiful. So useless. So fuckingfemale, raised to be a perfect mafia wife, and now I couldn’t even deliver on that. No one would want me after I’d blown up Tchérnov’s yacht. Nobody would love me for anything other than my name, especially now that marrying me was the key to inheriting my father’s empire.

I huddled against the wall, my arms wrapped around my knees, sobbing my foolish, useless heart out.

The bright fluorescentlights blinked on, and the lock clicked. To my surprise, it was Valentin who stood in the doorway with a tray in his hands, not Angelo. His face was contemplative rather than harshly cruel. I looked at the scratch marks in the corner—a week, more or less. I couldn’t believe I’d ever complained about a comfortable room with a bathroom and books. Now I’d kill for a fucking toilet.

I scrambled to my knees, placing my hands behind my back. Pride burst out of my chest at the glow of warm approval in his eyes.

“Good girl,” he murmured. His eyes roved over my body, and I flushed at his attention, embarrassed to be displayed to him after a week of his absence.

I had to find a way to ask about my father’s businesses, the compound, what the fuck was going on in Yorkfield.

“What’s going on in that head of yours?” he murmured as he crouched in front of me. He set the tray on the ground in front of me. There were no utensils, just a plate of precut steak, vegetables, and small wheels of pasta. This was a child’s plate.

My gasp of outrage brought a smile to Valentin’s lips, cruel and beautiful.

“On your hands and knees, princess.”

Was this a test? What was he going to do to me? I hesitated, suspecting I knew exactly what he would ask me to do next.

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