Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 76425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
"Wait, maybe," I said, wincing down at the scar on his hip. The wound itself had healed, albeit jaggedly, but I knew it still bothered him when you hit it, and my legs were going to be dangerously close.
"If you don't get up here and ride me," he growled, grabbing me, pulling me up higher, then reaching into the nightstand for a condom.
"If I don't get up here and ride you... what?" I asked, head ducking to the side, a little power-drunk at the moment.
But, finished with the condom, Che's gaze lifted, his smile wicked. "I will edge you until you are screaming for me to fuck you. And everyone in the house will hear," he said, knowing he had me there.
"Well," I said, lifting my hips, feeling the head of him press against me. "In that case," I said, hand resting on his shoulder as I slid down his length, feeling him settle deep as I let out a small sigh.
I thought, with the need that was gripping my system, that I would ride him hard and fast, get to the orgasm as quickly as possible.
But my gaze found his, and his hand reached out for mine, giving it a squeeze.
"Beautiful," he mumbled, eyes warm.
It was right then that I realized this was no remnants of a girlhood crush. This was real, grown-ass woman feelings. I hadn't been able to recognize them before because I'd never experienced them until I reconnected with Che. But there was no denying that they were there. And not only were they there, but they were intense.
They tiptoed on that line between like and that other l-word I wasn't even ready to think about yet.
Che's hips lifted slowly, reminding me this wasn't the time for deep soul-searching. "Ride me, Sass," he demanded, voice tight.
I didn't need more encouragement than that, riding him slowly, feeling the need for release start to take over every inch of me, making my thighs start to shake, my hips to lose their rhythm.
Hooking an arm around me, Che rolled us both onto our sides, dragging my leg over his hip, and gently thrusting upward into me at the steady pace I needed.
"Come for me," he demanded, pressing his forehead to mine, his whole body tight with his need for release.
And just like that, I did, crying out his name, not even caring about anyone overhearing as Che groaned out his orgasm, thrusting deep, planting there for a long moment before finally taking a breath, his body going lax.
"See," he said when he recovered. "We need more of that. A lot more of that. For a long, long time," he told me, giving my butt a pat as he slid out of my hold, then made his way toward the bathroom.
When he came back, he turned me, pulling me back against his chest, his legs cocking under mine, his arm draped over me.
"Still think we're going to get sick of each other?" he asked, voice a soft caress over my skin.
"Maybe not," I said, letting out a deep breath, sinking into the nearness of him.
I wasn't ready to say it yet, but I was pretty sure it wasn't going to be possible to get sick of Che.
And I was going to go ahead and see what it was like to be with him without fear.
You know, after we confronted the Chinese mafia, took something that didn't belong to them, and gave it back to the rightful owners.
All, hopefully, without great bodily injury or death.
"What's so funny?" Che asked, making me realize I'd let out a choked snort at my thought pattern.
"I was just thinking about the threat of imminent death," I admitted.
"Just another Thursday night," he agreed, pressing a kiss to the back of my neck.
Chapter Fifteen
Saskia
The Triad's headquarters was on the same block with a liquor store, a convenience store, and a youth center that had its cement walls painted in bright, happy murals, likely by the kids that hung out there.
I felt oddly guilty about bringing my trouble into their neighborhood, but I tried to remind myself that this was on the Triad, not on me.
The restaurant itself was long and squat with an old sign above it claiming only that it was Chinese food, not the actual name of the place. The entire front was floor-to-ceiling windows, but there was a thick black film on them to block out the sun, and likely keep the air conditioning costs lower.
Which meant my stomach was in a knot as Che and I walked past those windows, unable to see inside. But Che's hand was at my lower back, giving me silent reassurance.
I mean, neither of us had any idea what we were walking into, what could happen.
That was why Che had three separate guns hidden on his body along with two knives.