Page 16 of Vengeful Embers

While I go to switch the shower on, Tara finds the toothpaste and starts to rinse her mouth out with it. I come up behind her.

Tara watches me in the mirror as she rinses. She’s naked, her eyes sleepy, her limbs relaxed.

I run my hand over her breast. Tara gasps as I tease her nipple, then trace a line over her stomach, the mirror reflecting the slow path of my fingers. I press against her, her spine bending as she fits her body to mine. My hand finds her thigh and moves toward the apex of her legs. I slide my fingers over the slick skin of herpussy, she lets out a broken sound and braces her palms against the bathroom counter.

“Damien!” Her voice wavers as her hips roll, meeting my touch. “Oh, God…”

I work her slowly, keeping her on edge, watching her face in the mirror as she pants and clutches the counter, so close and wanting. Her eyes start to close.

“Don’t close your eyes,” I demand. “Watch… watch yourself come for me.”

When I stroke her harder, faster, she arches against me, the name she knows me by flying from her lips.

“Damien!”

The sound of it nearly makes me tell her my real one as a powerful need hits me to hear it screamed from her lips as she explodes with pleasure. I work her throbbing clit holding her against me as her body shudders and the waves of her orgasm die down.

Steam curls between us as the shower heats. I press her to the tiles, kiss her hard, my mind locked on every part of her. How her hair clings to her skin, how her spine arches with every sigh and moan. My grip tightens around her waist, and I’m almost reckless, almost lost in the feel of her wet and wanting. She pulls back and her hands trace my torso, running around the lines of the dragon tattoo that wraps around me. I suck in a breath when her lips and tongue follow the invisible line traced by her soft fingertips. Then she drops to her knees, and my stomach knots in anticipation. The water hits my shoulders, tracing a path down my chest and I feel none of it as she takes my cock in her hands, teasing, sliding, and circling the small slit.

My knees nearly buckle as her lips surround the head of my dick and her tongue tenderly teases the slit, dipping in to lick the precum. Her eyes move to capture mine, and they are filled with dark desire as her hands work the shaft and cup my balls, which she expertly massages.

She pulls her mouth away, and it takes everything I have not to cry out in objection.

“My turn to taste you,” she murmurs, then wraps her mouth around my cock.

I lean against the wall, groaning as she moves, the pressure building, a heat so intense I can barely keep my head clear. I thread my fingers through her hair, the world narrowing until it’s only her—how she feels, how she takes me in with abandon, almost wild. I shudder and pull back right before I nearly explode in her warm mouth. I grab her, pull her up, and wrap her legs around my waist. Water streaming down our faces, I pin her to the tiles, too close to the edge to wait, I slide inside her with a deep, rough groan.

Her body clings to mine and the walls of her pussy massage my hot shaft. Her eyes fly open, her head tilts back, the sound she makes tearing through the shower as her hips rock, desperate and eager. I drive into her harder, faster, both of us frantic and nearly breathless, the heat and slickness making my pulse stagger and my chest clench. Her fingers clutch my back, her body draws me in, and I can’t slow down. Can’t stop.

“Tara!” Her name leaves my throat as I groan against her neck.

She lets out a soft cry as she shatters. I’m right behind, a crashing wave, and my mind goes white as I fill her, feeling her break apart and cling to me all at once.

The shower cools as our breathing evens. I slide her down my body. An hour later, we are clean, dry, and my pulse still pounds like a war drum as we lie wrapped in each other's arms, totally spent.

The suite is cloaked in the soft hues of early morning, the city lights of Las Vegas casting a muted glow through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Tara lies beside me, her breathing steady, a serene contrast to the turmoil within me as sleep eludes me.

My mind is racing at how horribly my plan for Tara Craft has failed.

I came to Vegas under the pretense of assisting a client entangled in legal troubles. But that was a facade. My true purpose was to uncover the truth about Irina. Overhearing her conversation with Nadia about adopting a child had set off alarms. Adoption? That wasn't part of the mission.

Upon arrival, Konstantin and I discovered that Gavriil had a mistress—a woman he had loved before being compelled to marry Irina. The pieces started to fit. If Gavriil was involved with another woman, perhaps he and Irina weren't... intimate. Irina had always harbored dreams of studying in America, and marrying Gavriil was her ticket. But now, it seemed her allegiance was wavering.

The revelation that Gavriil's mistress was also Irina's close friend added another layer of complexity. Was Irina orchestrating an exit strategy, using the mistress as a scapegoat for her failure to produce an heir?

Our meeting was tense. Irina spoke of miscarriages, of trying again. She seemed sincere, but something felt off. I extended her timeline, but a new plan formed in my mind: eliminate themistress from the equation. Seduce her, make her fall for me, and ensure she stays away from Gavriil.

But fate had other plans.

A woman darted in front of my car, our eyes locking for a brief moment. The impact of that gaze lingered. Later, when Konstantin showed me a photo of Gavriil's mistress, I recognized her immediately, and now I had a name which rolled off my tongue like a caress—Tara Craft.

From the moment we touched, I knew I was in trouble. This isn't just about strategy anymore. I want her, deeply and inexplicably.

Tara murmurs in her sleep, shifting slightly. I resist the urge to pull her closer, to lose myself in her warmth. Discipline. I must remain disciplined.

I glance at the clock. Nearly 3 AM. Our flight to Moscow is scheduled for noon. But I can't wait that long—I need to leave Vegas as soon as I can to put distance between Tara and me.

I rise quietly, retrieving my phone. I reschedule my flight for an earlier departure. Then, I message Konstantin:I'm leaving earlier. Stay behind. Get close to Tara Craft. Keep an eye on Irina, and I need you to look into Irina’s medical records.

---