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“Fuck yes,” I breathe.
He pulls me toward him, and at the last minute when I should be collapsing on top of him, he twists until he’s hovering over me. He grabs the back of my panties with one hand and pulls them down. I lift my hips, so he can drag them down over my ass and past my thighs and calves. His cock bobs between us while he traces his gaze over my skin.
“Touch me,” I pant.
He reaches out, agile fingers plucking at my nipples and smoothing over the swell of my breasts. He leans over, taking a nipple in his mouth and sucking on it until my core burns with need.
“Get inside me,” I plead. He reaches for a drawer at the side of the bed, but I wrap my legs around his hips. “Now.”
Oscar drops his forehead to mine, breathing heavily. “Kyla.”
“I want to feel you,” I tell him.
He groans, the tip of his dick pressing against my entrance. I angle my hips, taking just the tip in, rocking up into him over and over.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He slams into me, and I cry out.
My walls close around every last hard ridge. He presses his lips together, staring down at me in awe. “Please move,” I gasp.
He doesn’t need another invitation. He pulls out, sliding back into me, grinding his hips. I press my fingertips into his ass, holding on while he starts a panty-melting rhythm that has me spasming around him in no time.
He rides my climax out and then retreats. Intense pleasure ripples through me as Oscar get a condom out of the drawer, rips the package open, and slides it over his cock. “As much as I loved every second of that, I care about you more.”
He gets back into position, pushing into me with ease, filling me up again as my head falls back onto his pillows. With stroke after stroke, he fucks me into oblivion. I swear the neighbors can hear our loud pants and guttural moans, but I’m unashamed of Oscar Drego. Or who I am when I’m with him. I want every last part of him. The jagged edges. The strong masks. The vulnerable side.
He starts to shake, giving me one more facet of him as he pumps into me harder. He slams into me one last time on the heels of a moan that has me coming again right alongside him.
I let out a breath as I hold him to me.
“I think I love you, Princess. And that scares the shit out of me…because everything I love turns to shit.”
10
Awhile later, Oscar drops me back at the tower before going out to look for his mom again. I offer to help him, but he turns me down. He’ll be going into some seedier parts of the city and doesn’t want me involved in any of that shit. Especially since I’ve gone and “cracked like porcelain”.
When I get to my apartment, a surprise waits for me. I do a double take because the swinging heavy bag in the corner of the room was most definitely not there when I woke up this morning.
I walk up to it, admiring the quality. A steel bracket mounts it to the ceiling. I give it a good push, and it swings back. The damn thing is solid. Even as heavy as it is, it won’t pull out of the ceiling. The tower is probably made with reinforced steel. I doubt there are any wooden studs in this place. It was built to keep high priority targets safe.
Brawler texted me earlier to say he was heading home, so Magnum must be behind this. I stroll to his apartment, knocking on the door. He opens it, visibly relaxing when he sees it’s me and that I’m safe. I hike my thumb over my shoulder. “Did you do that?”
He shrugs like it’s no big deal. “I thought you could use it to heal your arm. Since K wants the fights back on, he’s going to want you headlining, so you need to recover as soon as possible.”
I was afraid K would do that. I want to fight more than anything, but the last thing I want to do is injure myself getting there. If I start too early, I could potentially cripple myself permanently. Something tells me K won’t want to hear any excuses though.
Magnum gestures with his chin. “Here. Let’s go into your place.”
He shuts his door, and we walk across the hall. The bag in the corner is still softly swaying back and forth with minimal sound, which is perfect. “I guess I should have Brawler set something up. Maybe some easy opponents just to get me in there.”
Mag strides over to the bag, admiring his handiwork. “That’s a good idea. I can’t imagine the money the Crew has lost over the last several weeks. The fights and Candy’s were their big moneymakers. Since Gregory ran off and Dunnegan—”
“Got a bullet in his head?”
He nods. “Got a bullet put into his head, they had to shut Candy’s down. Johnny will come back and get it on its feet again in no time, but I’m sure K’s not happy with how everything turned out.”
I hit the bag with my left hand. “Did you notice Johnny’s black eye?”
Mag side-eyes me. “I did.”