Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 138274 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 691(@200wpm)___ 553(@250wpm)___ 461(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138274 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 691(@200wpm)___ 553(@250wpm)___ 461(@300wpm)
Lowering his mouth, he brushed a kiss to the swell.
Then he hooked a finger on the cup and pulled it back down. With the straps still on her arms instead of her shoulders, the tension pushed her nipple up toward him.
“Look at me, Nalla,” he said in a guttural voice. “Watch me…”
Extending his tongue, he made sure he tilted his head so she got a good, clear visual of him licking her tip. Once. Twice. Then he flicked the nub back and forth.
She moaned and grabbed on to the back of his neck, trying to bring him closer, but that was a nope for two reasons. One, the sharper the anticipation, the sweeter the release. And two?
If he got much further with this shit, he was going to fuck her right on the damn tattooing table, under the bright glare of that chandelier, surrounded by Amore’s equipment—something he was certain wouldn’t be a first. He just didn’t want it to be their first.
“You like that?” he murmured as he closed his lips and rubbed them back and forth on her nipple.
The noise he got back made no damned sense and how perfect was that.
Moving to the other side, he did the same thing, forcing the cup down so the breast was offered up at him, then teasing her with his tongue. But he had to stop tempting them both. As his cock pounded in his combat pants, he sat back and looked at his feast.
“Do you want to know what I want?” he growled.
“Mmmm… yes.”
He put both hands under her breasts and moved the weights together, thumbing her nipples. “I want to come all over this.”
The groan that rippled out of Nalla’s parted lips was just too good.
“And then I’m going to lick you clean.”
She was panting now, and that was what he wanted. He wanted her out of control and under him, nothing else on her mind but what he was doing to her and how he made her feel. He wanted her sex wet and swollen, and he wanted to do a little watching too as he penetrated her.
“Spread your knees, let me in,” he said.
As she opened herself, he went in with his hand, curling up a fist and putting his row of knuckles on the seam of her jeans. Rubbing her right where it counted, he was rewarded with her tilting her pelvis so he had greater access—and then she worked herself against him, her breasts bouncing to the rhythm of thrusts and pressure… until she had to clap a palm over her mouth as if she knew she wasn’t going to be able to control the sounds she was making.
“That’s it,” he said in a deep voice. “Come for me…”
It didn’t take her long, and as she reared back, he nearly made a mess in his own fucking pants—and wasn’t that amazing.
The whole thing was amazing.
She was… amazing.
When she slumped, he stepped into her, holding her up with his body, his strength. As he stared over her shoulder, he had a ripple of emotion he couldn’t afford to look too closely at, and needing to concentrate on something, he focused on the tattoo she’d gotten.
He thought about that house and the people who had once lived in it.
And what he had told Rahvyn he was going to do.
Goodbyes, to one and all.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Out in the countryside, next to the Audience House, Zsadist entered Four Toys HQ, making sure to clomp his shitkickers on the mat: V was not only a taskmaster, he was a nasty neat. Everything had to be surgical-unit clean, and it was well known that the brother’s team wasn’t especially fond of the edict. If they wanted something to snack on or drink, or even have a coffee to perk up? They were relegated to the break room.
Which was not exactly a death sentence, and at least as it related to liquids, was something that made sense given the number of keyboards in the place. But you could imagine how the commute, even if it was a short one, was an inconvenience when you were pulling close to twenty-four-hour shifts.
Also, word had it that you could only heat liquids in the microwave. Apparently, someone had gotten their Orville Redenbacher on and burned the stuff, and there had been no going back after that olfactory debacle.
As Z strode down the aisle between the workstations, he was amazed at how quiet it was. Then again, V hated the sound of clicking of keys and had designed the equipment himself.
Nobody spared a glance away from their screens. Not a surprise. The V-team, as they were called, weren’t a laugh riot and no doubt had little appreciation for social graces—something that Zsadist could totally get. The males and females were super-serious IT brain trusts ambulated by scrawny, left-behind bodies—because when you were that smart, and your job making sure the vampire race stayed secret was that important, you didn’t have a lot of time to Planet Fitness yourself.