41. Lev
Brooke is silent in the back of the car as we head toward home.
I’m still barely containing my rage that Vlad had the balls to openly taunt me by putting his hands on Brooke. Even shooting his hand apart hasn’t dampened the possessive fury tearing at me.
“Well, that was unexpected,” Brooke says, breaking the silence. She looks at me. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“No.”
“You just shot a man.”
“It’s not my first time, and it won’t be my last.”
“I don’t doubt it,” she says, not afraid of my mood as we pull up to the estate.
But she waits until we’re inside before she speaks.
“You might feel better if you talk about it,” she says, following me into my study.
But I don’t want to talk.
I don’t even want to think about it.
Taking her by surprise, I drag her to the wall and kiss her hard.
“Lev—”
I kiss my name from her lips.
I’m so worked up I either need to fuck my fake fiancée until we’re both breathless, or I need to go punch a boxing bag until next year to work off this frenetic energy buzzing through me.
I pull up the hem of her dress and push aside her panties. I don’t wait. And by the slickness coating my fingers, she doesn’t need me to.
I fuck her solidly into the early hours of the morning, determined to fuck the image of Vlad’s hands on her out of my head. I’m fucking exhausted but making her come just one more time has become my addiction tonight.
“No more, Lev, I can’t,” she whimpers right before I press deeper and harder into her, and her body ignites with another orgasm.
Crying out, she arches her body as raw pleasure floods her veins, and her unbridled cries are a lullaby to my prickly, hot senses.
When she comes back to me, she places her palms on either side of my face. “You need to come.”
I rock into her, but she pushes a palm into my chest to stop me. I look down on her beautiful face. Sweat beads her brow, and her hair is damp.
“Let me take care of you,” she says, then nudges me off her. When I roll onto my back, she crawls across my body and slowly sinks onto my cock.
I think she’s going to ride me into my orgasm, but she doesn’t. The moment she has me sheathed in her warm, tight pussy, she doesn’t move. My cock throbs, needing the friction. And damn if it isn’t sweet torture waiting for it.
“Tell me what has gotten into you tonight?” she asks, placing her palms on my chest.
I grab her hips. If she isn’t going to move, I’ve going to push her back and forth over my cock until I come.
But she forces my hands away.
“Zayka… I need you to move…”
“I’m not moving until you tell me what’s going on inside that head of yours.”
God, I want her to move so bad, and the anticipation is… fuck, it’s building like a wave in my belly.
“Fine, fuck.” I look up into her beautiful face. “I didn’t like seeing Vlad’s hands on you.”
She arches an eyebrow. “I realized that when you shot him. But why are you jealous of that douchebag?”
“I’m jealous of any man who puts his hands on you.”
She looks surprised, then surprise gives way to a wicked gleam in her eyes, and she starts to move, gently rocking her hips slowly, her pussy clenching tight around my cock.
Fuck.
She drags my hands to her breasts and kneads them into the soft flesh. “There’s only one pair of hands I want on me.”
I brush my palms over her tight pink nipples, my mouth aching to taste them. But my little bunny has other plans. She is going to torture me with the painfully slow roll of her hips, and I am at her mercy.
“There is only one man I want inside me,” she adds.
I run my hands down to her waist.
She keeps fucking me slowly, and it is exquisitely torturous. My cock throbs as the pressure builds. I bite into my lip. Fuck, this woman is going to kill me.
I press my head back into the pillow, and my orgasm erupts out of me like a rocket taking off into space. It’s so powerful, I’m momentarily blinded by white light. I unleash a groan, and it’s raw and primal because I’ve never felt anything like this before, and I don’t think I ever will again. She rides me all the way through it, milking me with her tight pussy until she’s taken it all.
When I’m done, she softens against me, her beautiful body covering mine, and damn if I ever want her to move. The contentment is like nothing I’ve ever felt before.
And I don’t want to let it go.
It’s dangerous how good this feels, and when I catch myself thinking about how I could see this existing in my future, I have to remind myself of who I am and how my life would never be able to nurture this kind of commitment.
But even I can’t deny the allure of it. It has some kind of power over me because holding Brooke in my arms and hearing her soft breaths falling between us calms the chaos in my mind and lulls me into a peaceful sleep. My little lullaby. It’s something I try not to look forward to at the end of the day, but the truth is, I do. It’s why I find every reason I can to spend another night with her in my arms. Even lying to myself like an addict that I can stop any time but knowing deep down that I don’t really want to. Which brings its own complications. My life wouldn’t nurture what this could turn into. Oh, I need a wife, but love? It would be a disaster. I’ve seen what love can do when it’s taken from you. It destroys you from the inside out and leaves you a shell of a man, and in my world, where danger lurks in every shadow, it’s just another risk I choose to avoid. I need my wits about me at all costs. But with Brooke in my life, I’m becoming more and more distracted by her.
Yet, instead of running from her, I feel myself running toward her, which is a big mistake.
Stop it now before it goes too far.
When I’m certain she is asleep, I climb out of bed and leave the room. In the kitchen, I don’t bother putting on the light. Instead, I make my cup of coffee in the moonlight streaming in through the floor-to-ceiling windows.
The coffee machine rumbles and vibrates to life, releasing a steady stream of thick black coffee into my cup. The heady aroma hits my senses as I take that first orgasmic sip.
I think of the angel in my bed and smile. I have half a mind to call my assistant and have her cancel the day’s appointments just so I can spend the day in bed with Brooke.
But I decide against it.
No point getting comfortable when this thing with Brooke—whatever it is—will only come to an inevitable end.