Page 67 of Never Die for a Sinner
“Please make me come,” I beg on a shaky breath, and finally, with a sinister chuckle, he gives me what I’m dying for.
It only takes a couple of brushes of his fingers on my clit, and my knees are buckling. A moan claws its way up my throat, and he presses his hand over my mouth to silence it as the entire world comes crashing down around us.
God, the Pope, Mother Theresa herself could walk in and catch us right now, and I’d be powerless to stop the pleasure coursing through me.
“That’s it, Ava. Come on, my fingers like a good little whore,” he growls in my ear.
“Levi,” I gasp, my eyes screwed shut and my voice muffled by his palm as every nerve ending in my body feels like it’s become a live wire.
The orgasm that rips through me is the most intense, earth-shattering feeling I’ve ever experienced. Like a thousand volts of electricity shooting through my body at once, rendering me nothing more than a puddle at his feet.
I cry softly, my body arching into his until there’s not a single inch of space between us.
“That’s it. Good fucking girl.” A tremble moves through me as he draws my orgasm out until I’m squirming under his hand. He leans into me, slowing his movements until my pussy vibrates against his hand, his lips at my ear. “I told you I’d make you beg for me, sweetheart.”
I don’t have the brainpower or the stamina to try to figure out what that means, right now. Everything in me has been turned to mush.
I let out a shaky breath, the aftershocks of the most intense orgasm I’ve ever had rattling through me.
He watches me, a darkly disturbed look on his face. Like I ruined his plans and now, he’s not sure what to do about it.
“Don’t call me a whore,” I mutter through my teeth.
He releases me, and I open my mouth, but before whatever nonsense that was on the tip of my tongue, he spins me around, pressing my front to the wall and stealing my breath away for an entirely different reason.
I clear my throat. Now that the deed is done, I feel . . . shaken. Maybe he ripped my plan to shreds, too.
A shiver moves through me from his lips at my ear, his voice rough and his words demanding.
“Let me catch you with his hands on you again, and I’ll remove them while you watch.”
Leaning back, he drops my keys in the palm of my hand.
“Car’s fixed.”
And then he releases me, stalking out of the supply closet without another word.
LEVI
. . . 1 month Ago . . .
Ipark my car and drag my hood up over my head, making my way to the old warehouse to the south of downtown Seattle.
It’s late, almost three in the morning, and there’s not a soul in sight. Usually, I’d be drunk or dragging a pretty girl into my bed, but since that night on the couch a few days ago, I haven’t felt like doing either.
—Not unless it involves the one thing I can’t have.
Fucking figures.
My instincts told me to ignore the call I got earlier today, asking me to come here, but I must be a masochist.
Why else would I insist my little brunette housekeeper take the room across the hall from me and not the perfectly open one down by Javier’s?
I step through the side door they told me would be unlocked into the dark warehouse. The only light is one in the center of the room.
The place looks abandoned, with a few old crates and nothing more. The silence is loud, ringing in my ears with each scuff of my boots on the broken concrete.
“You brought me out here at two in the morning. The least you could do is show your face.”
