Page 59 of Bulletproof Love

“Jesus fucking—” His words end in a hoarse groan as I grip him. I glide up and down, just once, before going back to dancing my fingertips along his shaft, barely touching.

“Do you want more?” I whisper.

“Please,” he begs, his voice thick. I pull off my shirt, not caring that at any moment someone could walk in and see us. It only heightens my need. “Christ, baby.”

He reaches for me, but thinks better of it, resting his hands beside my thighs, fingers twitching with the need to touch. I sit back, drinking in how he trembles, memorizing every inch of his features like this.

“Remember, you’re not allowed to come.” I finally touch him again, agonizingly slow. Each light stroke takes him closer and closer to the edge before I stop. Over and over, I pause just before he breaks, until his eyes shine with frustrated tears. “Look at you,” I murmur. “So desperate, so obedient.” I hover over him, letting my tits brush against his face. He lets out a choked whimper. “You’d do anything I ask right now, wouldn’t you?”

“Anything… anything you want. Fuck.” He nods frantically, burying his face between my tits. I let him suck and lick my breasts between his panting and whimpering for more.

“Oh God.” The words tumble out of me as my control breaks apart. He sucks harder, nibbling, until I hiss a breath.

“Please,” he pants. “Please let me eat your pussy, baby.” I pull back, my mind clouded with want. This was about my control. About seeing how far I could take him. “Please, I’ll be so good for you.”

I trail my fingers down his chest, feeling his muscles jump beneath my touch. My mind is at war. Either I give in to what we both desperately want, or keep going with this delicious torture. I’m so hot, so needy. Just the thought of his mouth on my pussy almost sends me over the edge.

Those blue eyes lock onto mine, crazed with need, but still waiting for permission.

“Tell me again,” I whisper. “Tell me how good you’ll be.”

In one fluid motion, he lifts me and pins me against the couch, pressing my back into the cushions. He tears my underwear down my legs before spreading them wide. My head dangles off the armrest, but I’m past caring. Nothing else exists but this moment. He settles between my thighs, dragging his face along the sensitive skin there, making these deep, primal sounds that pull a whimper from my throat.

“You’re so wet, Falin. You love tormenting me, don’t you?” Before I can answer he glides his tongue through my slit, slowly, like he’s savoring every second. “So fucking sweet.”

“Please.” I arch against him. My mind has whiplash from how fast our positions changed.

“Make a mess of my face, sweetheart. I want to be drenched in you.” There’s nothing slow or teasing about the way he eats my pussy. His whole fucking face grinds against my clit, his tongue flicking in a punishing rhythm. He’s whimpering and groaning, trembling between my slick thighs, grinding into the couch.

“Oh fuck, Jas,” I hiss. He grips my thighs, sucking my clit hard as his whole body spasms. I lose myself to the feel of him as my climax slams into me so hard I have to bite my arm to keep from screaming. I lock my legs around him, trembling as waves of pleasure roll through me.

Puffs of air hit my sensitive skin when he raises his head to meet my gaze. I know the answer before I even ask, but I ask anyway. “Did you just come all over the couch?”

An exhausted laugh escapes his lips. “Yeah, I did.” I don’t know why, but that makes me feel incredible. “But I’m not the only one.”

“I’m useless right now,” I mumble. “That couch is your problem.” He laughs softly, standing to pull up his boxers before helping me into my shirt. Once we’re halfway decent, he slides in behind me.

“Sleep, Trouble.”

I melt against his warm chest, already drifting. “Why Trouble?”

The silence stretches so long I’m almost asleep when his voice rumbles against my ear. “Because you’re everything I told myself I couldn’t have.”

“Mmm. My good boy,” I mumble, feeling so light and content that what we went through hours ago is almost unbelievable.

His chest shakes with silent laughter as I drift off.

CHAPTERTWENTY-FOUR

ALEXANDER

The vodka burns my throat.Three shots and it’s still not enough to dull the rage rolling through my veins, twisting my gut until I want to scream. Dominic’s body lies in a heap at my feet, his blood mixed with amber whiskey pooling on my imported Persian rug. The decanter I used to bash his head in is discarded by his side. Bruce trembles in the corner, tears streaming down his pathetic face. I glance back at Dominic’s body, disgusted by its presence.

“Clean this up.” When Bruce stays put, I launch my glass against the wall next to his head. “Now!” He scrambles to his feet, slipping in his brother’s blood. “Get me a towel first.”

“Yes, sir.” Pathetic. His blubbering is making me crazy. He drops a fresh towel from my bathroom onto my desk, and I wipe the blood off my shaking hands.

Everything’s falling apart. The house, Yuri, Mischa—all gone in one night. And these incompetent fucks just watched it happen. Didn’t do a goddamn thing!

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