Chapter 25
LEONORE
Iknew I could make him beg for it, and the minute he does, I don’t make him wait any longer.
I reward him for his good behavior and do exactly as he asked, lowering myself onto him.
His hands come to my hips, and he grips them as I lower myself, rubbing against his very hard cock so he knows how wet I am for him.
I made the request to see if he would actually follow through.
I should’ve known a man like him would. I took my time, and I quite enjoyed looking at his body.
I’ve seen a lot of bodies, and I can honestly say his is definitely my favorite I’ve ever come across.
Not only does it have the most perfect ridges, but it’s colorful as well, with ink scattered across it.
I’ve never really been a big fan of tattoos.
I’ve never had any desire to get one. But as I trace his, I realize that they tell a story.
For example, the large birds on his abs tell a story of the empire he runs.
I make no mistake in understanding that he is a very dangerous man.
And that this is a very dangerous game that we are playing.
Not only has he killed someone because of me, but he’s also now broken someone’s wrist because of me.
Part of me wonders what lengths he is willing to go to, while the other knows I should cut it off while I can.
Getting caught up in a man like Silas is especially dangerous for a woman like me.
“Just sex, then you leave,” I tell him, still teasing him painfully so. I wait for him to speak, his hands gripping so tightly and his gaze burning into me, filling me with a female high of power, knowing what I can hold over a man like this.
“Then I leave,” he repeats after me.
I’m not sure if I believe his lie, but I also don’t really care. I know what I want.
I impale myself on him, the immediate stretch splitting me in two as I adjust, but fuck does he feel good. He grunts when I slam onto him to the hilt. His grip tightens, and when he tries to slide my shirt farther up, I’m quick to cup his hands and glare at it.
I click my tongue disapprovingly. “The shirt remains where it is.” Just hovering on my upper thigh.
I’m in control here. He’ll take whatever I’m willing to give him.
Something shifts in his expression that I can’t quite read.
I hope he doesn’t see through me, the purposeful control.
The hidden secret. But his hands obediently lower at the same time as I sink myself back onto his cock as a reward.
The minute I’m seated on him, he rocks my hips back and forth, and again back and forth.
It’s almost as if he understands that this will make me come even faster.
He keeps the perfect rhythm while maintaining eye contact with me.
One thing about Silas is I don’t think he’s a man who would back down from anything.
I don’t know if anyone would even intimidate him.
I have been with many men, and none of them hold the intense eye contact the way he does.
I almost feel intimidated, as if he’s looking into my fucking soul, but I won’t dare look away and give him that power over me.
No man deserves that type of power. Especially over me, of all people.
One of his hands leaves my hip, and the other continues to grip it and helps me rock.
I wait for his other hand, curious as to whether he’ll disobey or try to take control.
His hand slides up my stomach, over the shirt, then between my breasts and up my neck.
His fingers are rough but warm, coming to hold my jaw into place momentarily as he applies some pressure.
I can’t help but grin. His eyes darken as his two fingers rub over my lips, as if fascinated.
I dart my tongue out and lick the tips. A guttural noise escapes him as he slides two fingers into my mouth, then curves them down until they’re hooked behind my teeth, and pulls me forward.
Another wave of heated desire runs through me at his silent but powerful demand, so I’m repositioned to hover above him. Our faces are close as I rock my hips faster, and our hot breath begins to mingle.
He slips his fingers out of my mouth, slides his hand around my neck, and forces his fingers through my thick hair so he can pull me down farther.
His lips are on mine, hungry, demanding, and painfully dominant as he bites down on my bottom lip and tugs.
A moan escapes me as my hips rock harder against him, the new angle allowing my clit to rub against him as well.
Kissing Silas is something I do quite enjoy.
He is gifted with his tongue, especially between my legs.
He devours me like a starved man. I know how desired I am by him, and it only makes me hungrier for more.
How much of this man can I steal and explore?
When was the last time a body came to life like this? If at all, ever?
I slide a hand up to his throat, squeezing the same way he had done to me, and I bite his bottom lip as I tug, feeling his cock jerk. I can’t help but smile at how responsive his body is to mine.
“Your cunt squeezes my cock so perfectly,” he whispers into my lips, going to kiss me again, but I hold him down, just keeping my lips a breath away.
“I like it better when you fuck me and don’t talk,” I lie. I do like it when he talks dirty to me. If I could keep him quiet in real life and only let him talk when he has his cock buried inside me, I feel like we could have potential.
“You are lying…” he says in more of a growl, and I don’t argue with him. “But that’s okay, baby—I already know what you like.” Then his hand slaps my ass hard.
The mark spreads like wildfire, my entire body pinching tight while I ride his cock, back and forth, back and forth, riding my high as my legs begin to tense.
“Oh fuck,” I curse as he pulls me down by the front of my shirt and kisses me, as if demanding he gets to taste every labored breath. The orgasm hits me so fucking hard that I have to bite his lips to stop the scream.
He grunts and jerks into me, pinning me in place as my pussy milks his cock. The taste of copper explodes in my mouth, and I realize one of our lips is bleeding, but I don’t care as we fall into a steady rhythm, my hips slowly sliding back and forth.
I lay my forehead on his, closing my eyes as I try to catch my breath. My skin is on fire, his hands scorching my skin in every place he touches.
Was sex always meant to feel this good? This addictive?
Brushing my hair to the side, I push away from him. “You should leave now.”
“No,” he says and helps me pull him out of me. My temple pulses at his defiance. I climb off the counter and casually sway my hips as I move to reach for a knife.
“You can leave now,” I say again, making a point to press the blade against the tip of my finger with a crazed smile. He sits up and pushes his legs over the counter. That’s when I notice his split lip and the claw marks down his chest. That heat in my lower stomach continues to stir.
“Shower with me,” he says and places his feet on the floor. He steps closer, and I point the sharp edge of the knife at his chest casually.
“No.”
“Shower with me,” he repeats, stepping even closer so the knife touches his chest, right above his heart, and a pin drop of blood blossoms against his skin. The color fascinates me; it always has. Just as much as I suspect it does for him.
“I’m good with one of these, just so you are aware,” I tell him.
“Oh, I am well aware,” he says, and presses farther into the tip. “Now, shower with me.” I’m no longer looking at the cut, but his eyes, and they are determined. He would very much impale himself on this knife just to get his point across. I’m not entirely sure what he’s asking of me.
“You are very demanding,” I tell him.
“I am.” A small bit of blood drips down his skin, catching my gaze again. “Do you think a little stabbing would really scare me?” he asks as he looks down at the knife. The cut isn’t deep, just surface level. So far.
“For any sane person, it would,” I say. He reaches up, and his hand covers mine, which is still holding the blade.
“I don’t think anyone in this room is sane.” I take in a sharp breath. Both cautious and curious that he sees the part of me that very few do. A part of me that I’ve been trying to hide ever since I came to Boston. “Come on, Doc, don’t tell me it’s past your bedtime?”
“You’re not as charming as you think,” I tell him.
“I’m not trying to be charming. I’m trying to fuck you again.” Liquid floods my pussy again, that demand between my legs returning. “I’ll fuck you hard, and I’ll leave the moment you can’t keep up with me anymore and fall asleep.”
I know better than to let him stay, but as I look over his exquisite body once again, I’m not thinking logically as I say, “Promise?” I’m curious as to whether he can keep to his claim. Though I have suspicions that he can.
“I promise,” he says, and I let him pull the knife away. He places it on the counter behind me before he sweeps my legs out from beneath me and carries me in his arms. “Now, let’s fuck in every room so every place you look, you can only think about what position I had you in.”
“The guest room is off-limits,” I’m quick to say. I’m immediately reminded that’s because I reserve that room only for Nessa and Larissa on the rare occasion they stay. It stirs as an ugly reminder as I say, “The moment I’m disappointed, I’m kicking you out.”
His dark blue eyes look down on me, and instead of words, he breaks into a ruthless smile, and my lower stomach does a weird flip-flop thing. That smile is damning as much as the silent promise. But having Silas Vescari between my legs to make me forget a shit day feels like a good fucking start.