The Devil's Beauty (Crime Lord Interconnected Standalone Book 2) (46 page)

“You’ll tell me.” It wasn’t a question.

She nodded again. “I will.”

He hesitated a full second before giving a stiff bob of his head. “On your knees.”

She didn’t ask. Her body had no intention of disobeying.

She hit the soft, thick carpet with both knees. Her chin tipped up, anticipation coursing through her in serrated rivulets, expecting him to pull out his cock and make her suck him. She could already feel him pressing against her tongue, his taste filling her mouth, his hands tugging at her hair. She almost moaned.

“Lie back, arms over your head.”

That was new, but she followed his command. She reclined across the carpet. The bristles tickled her spine, her shoulders, the backs of her legs, sending shivers across her sensitive skin.

She extended her arms over her head and felt a subtle pain when her knuckles rapped against the marble leg of the coffee table. She started to shift away.

“No, stay there. Grip the leg.”

The smooth, round stone sat perfectly in the palm of her hands. The position arched her back a fraction, thrusting out her breasts and forcing her knees up and apart. Cool air skimmed the junction of her thighs, kissing the dampness slickening her lips and trickling freely down the crevice of her ass. The displayed arrangement left her open in a way that only made her all the more aware of how exposed she was lying at his feet while he watched her with that unreadable expression.

He finished unbuttoning both sleeves before he reached for the buckle. The metal jingled as the leather was freed from the loops of his trousers. Ava held her breath and listened over the pounding of her heart as it slipped free.

He twisted it over until the buckle dangled between them, between her knees, hovering in the V inches from her sex.

Ava gave a shuddering gasp. The muscles of her stomach quivered. Her sex clenched. She tightened her grip on the leg. Her legs widened their stance.

Cool metal kissed lightly against her lips. The contact her hips jerking off the carpet like he’d slapped her. The violent, gripping sensation that ripped through her was proof of just how long she’d gone without.

He toyed with her, slipping the leather between her lips and rubbing the swollen crest until her eyes were rolling back into her skull. But it ended, the buckle slipped over her mound and started a slow journey up the plane of her stomach. It stopped when the gold nestled between her breasts.

Dimitri leaned down, gathered up the belt and fastened it around her wrists, keeping her restrained. Once she was properly imprisoned, he rose and stood over her with his hands on his hips, admiring his handy work.

“Okay?”

She nodded vigorously, too lost in the white wash of her own need for release to feel anything, but the hot pulse coursing through her.

“Dimitri…”

His dark eyes lifted off her pussy and met hers. “Do you remember the first time I fucked you in your bed?”

She did. Vividly.

But he was still talking. “I climbed in through the window and you were on the bed, naked, legs open so your pussy was the first thing I saw. You were lying just like this, with your hands over your head and my cunt wet and ready and beautifully on display. You were so ready, so fucking ready. You’d been playing with her for an hour, you said, getting yourself close, but waiting for me to finish.” He circled slowly around her, his eyes the eyes of a predator never leaving its prey. “Do you remember what happened next?”

He’d fucked her. He’d torn off his clothes and was inside her before she could even catch her breath. He’d been vicious and wild and she’d come screaming.

“What happened, Ava?” he prompted, hands unbutton his shirt with frustrating slowness.

She licked her lips, attention riveted on the smooth expanse of mouthwatering skin slowly coming into view.

“I … we fucked,” she panted.

He nodded slowly, confirming her answer. “Yes, but what else?”

She couldn’t even remember her own name anymore. Her mind had gone a murky red of desire caught in her need for him to end it.

“I don’t know … please…”

His shirt struck the floor somewhere behind him. His pants were chucked down around his ankles and removed, along with his shoes and socks. He stood before her, gloriously naked and rock hard, an exceptional piece of delicious art marred only by the square patch of gauze stamped into his side. It was just beneath his ribs like a tiny, white door against the tan of his body and the swirl of colors. She made a mental note to ask him later, but her attention was diverted by the head of his cock as it wept and she moaned with the need to taste him.

“When I was pounding into you, what did I tell you?”

She tried to focus. She really did. But he was lowering himself down between her knees and all she could do was squirm and spread even wider.

“To not … to not…” She had to swallow and moisten her lips again. “To not make a sound.”

He hummed deep in his throat, his eyes heavily lidded as he studied her. One hand lifted and ghosted the inside of her quivering thigh, drawing a line from knee to apex.

Hot, sticky cream rushed out of her. He watched it run down her ass and dissolve into the carpet. He never looked away from her pussy, but that was all the contact she got—his eyes feasting off her.

“No sound,” he murmured. “I had to cover your mouth shut. I barely could. You were … God, you were beautiful coming apart. I thought for sure John Paul could hear you, could hear what I was doing to you only doors away, what you were letting me do to you.” A slow, devious smirk twisted his perfect features. “It was the first time I came in you. There was so much of it. I remember watching it pour out of you and thinking—Mine. She’s fucking mine.” He raised his head, his fingers inches from her clit, the muscle glinting and fat for attention. She knew it would only take one nudge to send her over. “Is she still mine, Ava?”

There was more in the question than what he was simply asking. It wasn’t just about her pussy. It wasn’t about fucking her and pumping her full of his come. He was asking her something she needed full brain power to think about.

“Yes,” the word left her unrestricted and with confidence. “Yours.”

“Good.”

That was all the answer she got before he was on her. His cock broke through the ring of her sex in one vicious plunge that had her limbs flailing and her body balking. The world tilted a multitude of colors across the eyes she squeezed shut tight. Her initial cry rose to a deafening roar as every slam sang up her with a new spear of pain. Her arms tugged at the restrain, the buckle pinging off the stone, barely audible beneath her sobs and the sharp slaps of skin meeting skin.

He was wild, an untamed beast seeking revenge and she had gotten in his way. He was ravenous and brutal, and there wasn’t a loving bone in his body.

It hurt. More bruises to add to the ones she already claimed. The carpet was burning her in all the places she was being forced against it. All marks she wanted, desperately needed. She was crying and still begging him not to stop.

She needed this. She needed the reminder that she was there, alive, unharmed. She needed to hurt, a reminder tomorrow that it hadn’t been a dream. She came and the sheer violence of it rocketed through her with such intensity, she was sure all fifty floors heard her screaming his name.

“Not. Loud. Enough!”

He rose to his knees and grabbed her by the hips. His dark eyes bore into hers, merciless and driven, a madman on a mission. His hair was no longer tamed back. The strands hung in wild wisps around his face. They swung with every slap.

Without warning, he yanked out. She thought it was over only to be wrenched over onto her belly. Pain crackled in her shoulders when her arms twisted. Then he was back, his cock a punishing force.

“Scream for me, Ava,” he taunted into her ear, his hips pumping against her backside, forcing her to take him deeper. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it? Harder, faster, deeper than ever before? Can you feel how deep I am?”

It wasn’t the deepness that had her shoving back against him. It wasn’t the punching blows of his cock head against the very base of her that had her leaking. It was the angle, the grind of his cock against the spongy bump inside. It was the burn of her nipples chafing against the carpet, the pinch of his fingers on her hips.

She came again with the roar of the ocean between her ears and the suction of her channel sucking at his assault.

She slumped, boneless and exhausted with her face wedged in the knot of her arms. His cock pulled free and she barely noticed. She didn’t even hear him move until the belt was released and her arms dropped. Tingles of relief scuttled up her shoulders and down the blades. Her knuckles popped with her feeble fisting.

He gathered her up and turned her offer. She was allowed a weak whimper before he was wrenching apart her knees and wedging his shoulders between her thighs.

“You know what I want, myshka.”

Fingers and toes tingling, Ava had just enough sense to reach between her legs and peel apart her lips. Her fingers slipped in her own juices, a mess that made her clit throb. There was so much of it. It was all over her pussy, smearing her thighs, soaking the carpet, dripping off the end of his cock.

“Hold her open wide,” he instructed, breath hot on her exposed sex. “We need to clean up the mess you’ve made.”

Ava managed a moan of his name, but it was broken by the gasp that quickly followed with the angry sweep of his tongue. He ate her like he fucked her, like he hated her. Like he wanted nothing more than to hurt her. But then his eyes would lift over her mound and find hers and the love in them … there was no name for it. He looked at her like she was the most precious thing in the world.

With his eyes still on her, she lifted her hands and cupped her breasts. He watched as she rolled the nipples in time to the flicks of his tongue around her clit. Her hips lifted and he suctioned his lips to her trigger, recognizing her request even before her back arched and her head rolled back.

She came with the gentle rocking of waves and the suckling of his mouth. She was still riding the blissful sway when she felt him rise over her. Her eyes opened to his beautiful face, his warm eyes. She found her lips twisting into a smile. Her arms lifted and coiled around his shoulders. She drew him to her, to her mouth.

He tasted like her mixed with him and something subtle. Coffee maybe. She gripped him to her, moaning into his lips when he slid inside her. Her over sensitive walls rippled around him as he settled into place.

“Okay?” he whispered quietly.

She nodded, hooking her legs around the back of his thighs. “Yes.”

He was slower, gentler this time. He never broke the kiss, not even when he reached between them for her clit.

“I don’t think I have another one in me,” she said, only partially teasing.

“One more,” he urged huskily. “I need one more.”

She gave it to him. She didn’t know how, every bit of her was exhausted, beaten, and ready for bed, but she came under the patient strokes of his thumb.

He came inside her. The heat of it filled her sex and dribbled out when he withdrew. No one else had been allowed that. His was the only release she actually longed for, the only one that felt right drenching the most private parts of her.

“Okay?” he asked again, hovering over her with his hands braced on either side of her head and his hips still nestled between her sprawled thighs.

“Yes,” she whispered, eyes closed.

“I wasn’t too rough?”

Ava chuckled weakly. “Felt so good.” She sighed, already half asleep. “Missed it.”

She didn’t remember the rest. There was a vague recollection of arms gathering her up, then nothing.

She woke sometime later with a dull ache in her side and a familiar pinch in her shoulders. The kind that made the previous night worth every second. But neither were the causes of her disturbance. Neither were strong enough or painful enough to steal away the blissful fingers of sleep she’d been curled up in. It was something else, something too faint to comprehend until she heard the rustle of fabric.

Her eyes opened to the soft navy blue of early dawn. The bed behind her dipped and the weight of Dimitri’s body eased against her back, naked, warm, and perfect.