Page 54 of Brutal Devil
Taking my time, I find a lowball and fill it with ice. Then I reach for the Johnnie Walker Blue and pour it slowly.
“Why so noncommittal, gangster?” She props a hip against the marble alongside me.
She’s wearing yoga pants that were clearly designed by the devil and a tight tank that does nothing to hide her hard nipples. And I can’t stop thinking about how wet her pussy was this morning when I finger-fucked her.
Trying to play it nonchalant, I offer Luna her glass. “Try this and tell me what you think.”
She accepts it, eyes on me, her fingers brushing mine. “You didn’t answer my question.”
I pick up my glass, offering it for her to cheers. “I’m not noncommittal. It’s just that my bunker isn’t technically directly under the casino. It’s down and to the left.”
Our glasses clink.
“Semantics,” she says.
“Your graduate school words make my dick hard.”
“You think about your dick a lot, don’t you?”
I wink. “I guess we have that in common, baby.”
“I don’t think about your dick.”
“If you say so.”
“I do say so. I say that I don’t. Think about your dick. Not in any way, either hard or soft.” Her cheeks are pink.
I’ve never seen a woman blush before. Fuck, she’s adorable.
I want to kiss her and fuck her and fill her with my come.
I’m an asshole.
I lean into her, enjoying myself. “It’s always hard when you’re around.”
She gulps her wine and almost chokes on it.
“And you like it,” I add, pushing her.
“Why did you bring me here?” she asks quietly.
To distract myself. I can’t allow my mind to linger on the memory of my dead cousins. If the Bratva really are responsible for clipping Antonio and his boys, I’ll need to retaliate, and it won’t be pretty. I wasn’t lying when I told her this is war. And shit’s about to get even more dangerous.
But I don’t say any of that.
Instead, I take a long pull of my scotch, relishing the burn. I swallow it, holding her stare, and then I set it on the marble. My hands land on her waist, and I’m steering her away from the counter, toward the wall of glass, my forehead dropping to press to hers.
“I brought you here for this.”
We stop when she’s trapped between me and the glass, just looking into each other’s eyes, our breathing harsh. She’s still holding her glass of wine. I don’t give a shit. I’m an animal right now. Behind her, a kaleidoscope of a thousand different lights whirls on machines, but she’s all I see.
I slant my mouth over hers, trying to blot out the ugliness of today. She tastes like wine, and she responds the way I knew she would, kissing me back like she’s starving for me. I’ve been giving her time after what happened with her father, but I don’t know how much more I have in me.
I want her like I want power. Like I want revenge. Like I want to own this city and everyone in it.
She sucks my tongue, and my cock pulses. I grind into her, grasping a handful of her hair, my knuckles rapping against the cool glass, and let her feel me, showing her without words what’s next for us. I kiss her until she’s breathing hard. Until I am too, drinking from her lips. She’s better than any scotch, than my cousin’s finest wine.
Taking my time, I kiss along her jaw, all the way to her ear. I suck the lobe, then bite it, my lips grazing her as I speak softly.
