Page 90 of City Of Thieves
Jesus Christ.
I’ve tasted her pussy. I’ve made her come with my fingers and my cock, but this… I don’t know what the hellthisis, but it’s more.
So much fucking more.
My body is on fire. My vision is dark. My balls are tight. I’m about to come, too, and it’s the kind of vicious torture a man like me craves. The kind that kept me going back to a metal cage, fight after fight, for another hit.
She’s close. Her back arches in anticipation as her pussy walls start to flutter.
“Tatiana, open your eyes,” I growl. “Look at the face of the only man who will ever make you come again.”
Tatiana’s eyes snap open, that hypnotic gaze fusing with mine as her orgasm hits. She cries out, her pussy tightening around my dick so hard, I only last one more stroke before I’m cursing out her name and spilling inside her.
Releasing my hold on her neck, I press my lips between her breasts, dragging my tongue up to the hollow of her throat and lingering where her pulse still pumps a furious beat.
For me.
Always for me.
* * *
The day broketwo hours ago. Tatiana’s dozing on and off again, but it’s a luxury I can’t afford.
Taking another hit of whiskey, I’m settling back against the headboard when I hear my phone vibrate. Lifting it from the nightstand, I glance at the number, but I don’t recognize it. Then I read the message below:
Elysium. 10 p.m. Come alone.
Konstantin.
Fuck.
This wasn’t the plan. We said ‘three days’, not twelve hours. The last thing I want to do is give Belov the upper hand, but Anastasia is an unknown variable in this equation. He’s already proven he doesn’t give a fuck about that little girl.
Come alone.
If I do this without Tatiana, she may never forgive me, but I’d rather risk losing her trust than let anything happen to her daughter.
With my mind made up, I grab my jeans and T-shirt from the floor and dress quickly. Finding a notepad and a pen in the living room, I leave her a message, telling her I’ll call her later, and then I lock the door behind me as I leave.
When I reach my car, that same switch flips in my head. It’s business now, pure and simple. Sliding my phone from my jeans pocket, I type out a message to a more familiar number:
Meet me at the Obsidian Casino in Atlantic City at 11:00 a.m.
Tossing the phone onto the passenger’s seat, I start the ignition.
Someone once said that in order to kill a demon, you need to confront your own first, and that’s exactly what I intend to do.
* * *
I don’t likehotel rooms.
Never have.
Whether you’re here to fuck, sleep, or make a deal, the transactions made are rarely satisfactory.
I like this one least of all.
And why the hell is it so clean?
