The Darkest Temptation (Made 3) - Page 67

A disgusted gaze met mine, and it lifted a soft laugh from me.

“Shouldn’t you be out stealing virgins and terrorizing Moscow?” she asked.

“Unless I run into your papa tonight, the city’s safe from me.” While that may be a lie, I was an optimist when it came to things like business and murder.

She swallowed and pulled her gaze back to the ceiling. “How magnanimous of you.”

“When you say big words, it makes it harder to do the right thing here,” I drawled before nipping her jawline.

She released a shaky breath. “You’re beyond help, you know that?”

“And here I thought all I needed was an intervention.” I swept my thumb beneath the curve of her breast, back and forth, the lightest of caresses. Her breasts lifted with every breath, her nipples visible beneath her shirt, and it reminded me of how sensitive and sweet they were.

Sliding my lips to the shell of her ear, I said, “I bet I could make you come just from sucking your tits, kotyonok.”

The shiver that rolled through her was the only tell she hadn’t shut me out yet, so I pushed a little further. Palming the weight of her bare breast, I squeezed the soft flesh and ran my thumb around her nipple, then sucked the pulse point on her neck, pulling the skin between my teeth to leave another mark behind. Her chest rose and fell quicker, but she refused to acknowledge my hands on her.

I didn’t know why this girl smelled so good even covered in blood, but the feel of her breast in my hand and her soft scent was beginning to dim my vision. The relentless ache in my groin swelled, while Mila acted as bored as a baptist sitting in a church pew.

Her apathy was starting to irritate me, so I moved lower and bit down hard. She hissed in pain, but when I soothed the bite with my tongue, the ropes pulled taut, her head lolled to the side, and the subtle arch of her body told me she wasn’t so fucking indifferent anymore.

I pulled back to see my handiwork—the dark hickeys I left behind. While I didn’t think I’d ever given one before Mila, something primal ins

ide of me enjoyed marking her up like my own little checkerboard.

“I think red is your color,” I told her, this girl in my guest bed adorned in blood and hickeys.

“You would,” she countered, but her words were husky, lacking heat.

When I finally ran my thumb across her nipple and pinched it, her ragged exhale came between wet, parted lips, though she still tried her best to ignore me.

“You call me sick,” I drawled, “but I think you might be a little twisted too.”

“I’m nothing like you.”

I raised a brow. “Sure about that?”

“That I’m not a psychopath? Yes.”

“I prefer ‘sociopath.’ More socially acceptable.”

“Because this scene screams ‘socially acceptable.’”

This girl had the odd ability to amuse me even while I was trying to be serious about breaking her down as my temporary, mindless sex slave. And I didn’t like when people threw a wrench into my plans.

I slid my hand down her stomach, between her legs, and pressed my thumb against her clit, applying the slightest amount of pressure. She closed her eyes tight, trying to fight the sensation, but when I gave her a little friction, she pulled her bottom lip between straight white teeth and faintly rolled her hips.

The sight flooded thick heat through me that curled down my spine and settled heavily in my cock. She was hot and wet, and, from what I’d learned, tighter than a fist. I wanted to give her what she needed; to slide two fingers home just to watch her eyes roll back. The idea she would let me at this point singed every ounce of willpower inside until my blood began to pound in my ears.

I may not give oral or let a woman take control, but I was hardly a selfish lover. Still, I’d never been so interested in making a woman come before. I couldn’t even say three women at once got me harder than this single girl. The fact she was Alexei’s daughter was just the icing on that nauseating cake.

She had to be a professional at this innocent act; at drawing men in. Just like her mother was before Alexei showed up to put a bullet between their eyes.

Mila fisted the ropes, eyes closed, a pink flush warming her cheeks. I’d barely touched her, and she was close to coming. Only an idiot would believe they were the first to get her off. She was a hair trigger, and there wasn’t a chance she’d remained celibate considering how she threw herself at me.

I stilled my hand and asked, “How many men have made you come?”

She inhaled deeply, in relief or frustration. I wasn’t sure she even knew which, but it was clear she had no desire to respond.

Tags: Danielle Lori Made Erotic
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