Page 95 of Lies He Told Me (Bratva Crime Syndicate 1)

“Get back here!” Gavril calls as he chases me. “You know I’m going to catch you, anyway.”

He does exactly that, right at the far wall, both of us pressed together, laughing our heads off.

“Now, what am I going to do with you?” Gavril asks in a low growl, all the mirth gone from his voice.

I know the answer and there’s nothing funny about it. “Whatever you want.”

Gavril presses me to the wall, his erection digging into my lower back from behind. “Whatever I want is exactly the right answer.”

He turns me around and our lips meet again. But the feel of the kiss is unexpected. It’s tender. Sweet. Soft.

Gavril cups my face as if it’s fragile china, and when we break away, there’s another look there.

One that, if I didn’t know better, I’d mistake for adoration.

But then his hand runs over my hair and I find myself on my knees. It’s the logical next step, stroking his cock that’s already straining out of his pants. Undoing his jeans button, then the zipper, so I can hold it and stroke it. Run my tongue over it and around the smooth head.

Then kiss it all over.

Then, finally, take it all in my mouth, swallow him down, look up and … laughing.

I choke him out, sputtering. “I’m sorry, it’s just … the mustache …”

Gavril chuckles, smearing it off with the back of his hand. “You clown.” Then he uses that hand to grab a fistful of my hair. “Now. Where were we?”

I don’t need any further convincing. All I want is Gavril’s cock back in my mouth. Now. I lap around his hardness fast and deep, then shallow and slower. My other hand cups his balls as I get to work.

God, it feels good. I’ve never been much into giving head, but with Gavril, it’s different. It feels right. All of it does. My knees on the cool stone floor. His hard dick deep in my throat. The low, utterly satisfied growl that rolls out of him.

“Stop.” His voice rings out with a harshness that surprises me. He pulls himself out of my mouth with a pop and throws me onto my back. “I’m not finished with you yet,” he says, and unbuttons my jeans.

“Gavril, what are you …” His lips brush my upper thigh, and I groan.

That’s it for words. What follows are twenty of the most pleasurable minutes of my life. Where words morph into syllables that then dissolve into groans and moans.

It’s official: Gavril is a sex god. And my god starts out slow. Starts out only on my upper thighs and lower abdomen: soft kisses, teeth-edged kisses, licks, strokes. Everything sloooowly, sloooowly creeping closer to my pussy, until finally, when I’m sure I can’t take it anymore, when my body is buzzing with it, his lips land on my clit, just as his fingers dip inside me…

Sensation explodes all over me.

Oh, fuck. Oh, yes.

Still, he keeps the tentative, painstaking pace. The pace that has me seeing stars already. Sweeping his finger in and out slowly, slowly. Lapping my sensitive clit with his lips and tongue that are in no rush.

Slowly building pressure. Slowly building speed.

Until I’m crying out. Gasping. Begging for it.

And then my man, my husband, my savior, Gavril gives it to me. He delivers me from one ecstatic orgasm to the next, until I’m sure that’s it, that it’s impossible for me to feel a higher high, that I’m all pleasured out—and that’s when I have the biggest orgasm I’ve ever had in my life: screaming, losing it, my body collapsing in shivers.

When he moves me so that I’m lying on top of him, our hearts in line, beating together, I can’t help but think something utterly insane…

This must be what love feels like.

21

Joy

Whoa.

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