Page 99 of Vendetta Vows

I can't speak with my mouth so full, so I nod and tilt my gaze upward to meet his.

His grip tightens further as his hips thrust forward. I feel him pulse against my tongue before the first hot salty spurt hits the back of my throat.

I swallow instinctively.

Another thick pulse follows, and another.

I hold his gaze as I drink him down, watching his magnificent face contort in pleasure. The control he's maintained this entire time shatters.

His head falls back, throat exposed as a ragged and breathy moan tears from his rumbling chest.

His tattooed fingers twist tighter in my hair, holding me in place as he empties himself.

There's too much. Despite my efforts, a few drops escape the corner of my mouth, sliding down my chin. Still, I don't break away. I keep swallowing, taking everything he gives me, relishing in the knowledge thatI'mdoing this to him.

I'mmaking him lose control.

When he finally pulls out, we're both panting. His chest heaves with exertion. A sheen of sweat covers his brow.

I lick my lips, savoring his lingering taste.

"You're perfect," Ruslan murmurs, voice rough. He reaches down, scooping the escaped drops from my chin with his finger. "Absolutely fucking perfect."

He holds his cum-slicked finger before my face. Without hesitation, I rise up on my knees and press my lips against his finger, kissing it clean. Once. Twice. Three times.

Then I take the digit into my mouth, sucking it as thoroughly as I just did his cock, my tongue swirling around to capture every last drop.

His eyes darken again as he watches me. When I release his finger from my lips, he cups my face with both hands and presses a gentle kiss to my lips.

"My filthy angel," he whispers reverently.

"Your good girl," I respond.

26

AURORA

Hours later,I watch Ruslan cut steak into tiny pieces for Sofia at dinner. His golden eyes soften when she argues with Stella about who the best Disney princess is.

My body still hums from what happened between us earlier. My lips feel swollen. And the taste of Ruslan lingers no matter how many sips of water I take.

We've done everything except the final act. And with each passing moment, my hunger for him grows.

But it's not just physical. That's what terrifies me most.

"Try the sauce, Stella," he says gently to his middle niece. When she pouts, he switches effortlessly to Russian.

I love how his voice deepens when he does that. It becomes richer somehow. When he catches me watching, his eyes darken momentarily. A silent reminder of what we shared on this very table.

Heat floods my cheeks.

I can't stop thinking about how he finally opened up to me about her. His first love. The girl that left him with the broken-winged bird tattoo.

The confession wasn't planned; I could tell by the shadow that crossed his face. It wasn't information he intended to share, and yet he gave it to me anyway.

We're more alike than I ever could have imagined when I crashed into him chasing my runaway script.

Both haunted by monsters who took everything from us.

---