Beauty, a Hate Story the End - Page 36

“Please stop teasing me,” she groaned, head down, hair a cascade of curls.

Anteros thrust into her without another word. The sensation was lightning. It tore through his body as fire and combusted when she cried out. The danger of his Wolves and soldiers approaching was an urgency beating inside him, but Frankie still hadn’t come yet.

Then when he was sure they were damned, small, whimpering cries fell from her mouth. Pulsing gripped his dick—that fucking magical, utterly Frankie feeling. Her nails dug deeper into his bicep, her head fell completely forward in a long moan, and she came.

As the final pulses of her orgasm ended, Frankie frantically attempted to peel herself off the wall, afraid they would get caught.

“I’m not through with you, Frankie,” Anteros said, turning her back around. He touched her cunt, still wet with him and sensitive from the orgasm.

“We can’t,” she said, but she curled her arms around his neck, begging for more. He slid a finger inside her and fucked her again, the sound of his sperm inside her slick and maddening.

“It’s been too goddamn long since I tasted you,” he groaned. “Since I felt you curl around my tongue.” She sighed and he felt her constrict around his finger. “Fuck, Frankie. You’re going to get us killed.” But he pulled out because they’d already pushed it.

“Don’t go,” Frankie said, tugging him back. A second later she added, “I mean…never mind. God, you have to go. I have to go.” She pulled away, trying to peel off his body, but he pushed her hard into the wall. Stone fell into her hair as he fucked her with his fingers.

“Come,” he said, thrusting deep inside.

“I can’t,” she said. “It’s too dangerous.” Her protests were weak, nails digging into his neck, eyes going cross-eyed and blurry like they did when she was on the brink.

“Give me one more before I go.” Anteros planted his lips on hers, sucking in her sighs as he curled his fingers deeper inside. When she opened her mouth to cry, he kissed her chin, trailing his teeth from her jaw to her collarbone.

“That’s it,” he coaxed. “Good girl.” He tore her shirt aside so he could get one brief taste of her tit. She arched into him as his tongue met her nipple. Her nails dug into his skin and he was glad for it; each tear in his flesh recorded her passion. And with the fighting, no one would question them. She shuddered wet and hot against him then stilled.

“You’re fucking perfect when you come, mio cuore,” he groaned against her chest before untangling himself. He bent down and pulled her jeans back up, buttoned them. When he stood back up, the air stilled. Frankie’s brow crinkled in unsaid words. She didn’t have to say anything; he knew them already by the brick in his chest.

Anteros pulled her to him, placing a kiss on her forehead. “I’m going to text you a time and a date and you’re going to meet me at our place. No fucking around. No telling me no.” She held his shirt, breathing unsteady. “Do you understand?”

She nodded then said, “You need to go. Really, you shouldn’t be here.”

“Shouldn’t have been here in the first place,” Anteros responded. “There are leaks all over my fucking camp.”

“I’m so, so sorry.” Frankie pressed her head against his chest. “I’m…” She didn’t finish, just burrowed her forehead deeper into his chest.

He tilted her chin up with his finger. “Don’t apologize for something you have no fault in.” Pained wrinkles marred her forehead and she turned away. Gripping her face again, Anteros kissed her until noises near the stairs broke them apart. “Go,” he said forcefully as he pushed her away.

She held on to him. “I can’t. I can’t go back. I can’t leave you. I can’t keep doing this. Tell me you feel it. Tell me it hurts you too.” Anteros knew what she was talking about—the pull, the cruel, divine wire that bound them irrevocably.

“Saremo insieme, il mio cuore.” He kept his lips close to her ear, even after he’d finished talking, and she held his shirt, breathing unsteady.

Slowly Anteros peeled her off. She was frightened, unsure where to go as his men fell back, so he pointed to a curtained off area. “Don’t make a sound and no one is going to look for you.”

He kissed her fiercely one last time then pushed her in the direction of the curtains. The fabric had barely fluttered shut when the Wolves plus Levi and whatever soldiers had survived came down.

“Cutting it pretty fucking close,” Anteros said. “Second wave will be here any minute.”

Some time later, they neared the entrance to the subway. It was almost entirely dark, only an occasional burst of light stuttered along the tile. It was warm and muggy too, like after a fresh summer storm, and there was a constant drip of water. Anteros rubbed his lower lip, still raw from how Frankie had bitten and kissed him.

“That was a giant clusterfuck,” Pretty Boy said, rubbing his neck. His arm was bleeding, but not too badly, and irritation etched his cheeks. All five of them—Anteros, the Wolves, Levi—plodded along to their destination, feet splashing in an inch of water. Any soldiers left alive had crawled up various manholes, dispersing into the streets.

“It was a trap,” Crazy A said. “A well planted one.” Lucia’s reinforcements were a hollow echo down the tunnel, an angry beast moaning its rage and confirming too well what Crazy A said. The entire thing had been a trap. Someone—the fucking leak—had tipped Lucia off, but at least they’d made the best of it. They’d put a dent in Lucia’s soldiers.

“We’re nearing the end,” Levi said, speaking for the first time since they’d entered the tunnel.

“You shut the fuck up,” Little O spat. “We’ve heard enough from you for a while.” Levi raised his hands in surrender.

The Wolves argued all the way back to the office, but Anteros was quiet. Frankie’s lips, the taste, her skin against his fingertips—it was all he could think about. He couldn’t go a week without her again. Even if planning this clusterfuck had been a distraction, it wasn’t distracting enough.

“This is bullshit. It’s probably Levi who’s the leak,” Little O grumbled when they got inside the office. He paced around the room, running a hand through his hair. “This fuck shows up out of the blue and we just trust his intel? He wasn’t badly injured. He could have come to this meeting.”

Tags: Mary Catherine Gebhard Romance
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