Page 59 of The Final Contract
“Do you have to go?” I whisper against his lips.
“Yes,” he murmurs back, just as quietly. Neither of us wants to break this bubble—because the second he opens that door, he goes back to being my bodyguard, and I go back to being hunted.
His palm strokes down my back, heavy and warm. “Are you sore?”
“Yes.” I smile when he growls. “But it feels good.”
“Good,” he mutters, taking my mouth with more command, biting my lip as he pulls back. “That means I did my job and fucked you properly.”
He gets up, stretching, then heads into the bathroom. The tap runs, water rushing into the deep tub. His cock hangs thick and heavy, hard even now, and I can’t stop staring. It must bethe length of my forearm—a monster between his legs—and I can hardly believe I had the whole thing down my throat last night. My throat aches at the memory, but heat pools low in my belly anyway.
He catches me. Of course he does. He seems to catch everything I do.
“Stop looking at my cock like you want to suck it.” His voice is amused, edged with that dark tease.
“But I do,” I answer, shameless.
“Fuck, Angel…little killer is what you are.” His brogue slips through, just enough to make me shiver. His smile sharpens, wicked. “Then get over here.”
He strolls back to the bed, jeans hanging open, no underwear—his cock free and heavy against the deep V of his hips. A runway straight to sin.
“Crawl over here and tell your bestie goodbye.”
The devil’s grin curves his lips, and I obey. The covers slide off as I move, back arched, tongue out, mouth open in invitation. He guides his cock between my lips, and I hollow my cheeks, sucking hard as he curses under his breath.
When I pop off, I press a kiss to the cool metal of his piercing, smirking up at him. “Will I be seeing you later?”
His thumb hooks under my chin, tilting my head until his storm-gray eyes pin me in place. “Take a bath. Eat what you want. But?—”
“I won’t leave,” I cut in.
His smirk deepens, approval rumbling in his chest. “Good girl.” He tucks himself back into his jeans, zipping them up. “When I get back, I’ll take you to your penthouse.”
A weight lifts from my shoulders. “Really?”
He pulls on a black tee and a black leather jacket and—fuck—if he doesn’t look good.
“Security upgrades are done. No more keeping you prisoner.” His mouth quirks, but there’s something behind it—like he’d rather keep me locked in here, in his bed, for just a little longer.
“Take a bath. Eat some breakfast. Be good.”
The command lingers after he walks away, heat pooling low as I realize I want nothing more than to obey.
Seraphina’s body is burned behind my eyelids every time I blink: the arch of her spine, her head thrown back, the sound of her voice breaking as she moaned my name. The way her fingers teased herself raw, soaking me every time she shattered.
I made her come until she was trembling, until she drenched me, until my bed was ruined in her pleasure and my cock refused to work anymore.
And still, it doesn’t feel like enough.
But I’ve got to push that back—lock it down. Especially where Finn and I are headed.
Irish territory.
We’ve passed through before—you can’t walk two blocks in this city without brushing up against their grip—but this is different. This is the heart, the epicenter: where the leaders live and breathe the business, where the enterprise spreads out likeveins of poison, and where my brother sits like a king on a throne.
The kind of place I swore I’d never set foot in again.
Nora meets us in the back of a narrow bar, tucked away where the noise won’t travel. She doesn’t waste time, ushering in a skinny kid who looks like he hasn’t slept since birth, his apron still damp from dishwater.
