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And then she finally presses my clit, and it’s like a fucking detonator. Everything explodes. Again.
I can hardly comprehend anything outside of my own body, but I think I hear Tamayo whisper, “Good girl.”
TAMAYO
My hands move without much thought, my mind preoccupied as I unwind my belt from Zarina’s wrists, massage the pink marks left behind, and ease her feet out of her heels. All I can think is,I just fucked Zarina Gallo. Mob princess of my enemy who I’ve promised to wipe off the face of Louredo’s map.
And damn, it was good.
I smooth my hands over her arms and dip to kiss the dimples of her spine. “One second,” I murmur against her skin before I dart away to slip my pants back on and grab a couple towels and water. When I turn back to the sofa, Zarina is curled up on her side with tangled hair flipped over her shoulder. My mouth twitches. I fucked Zarina Gallo and it was good and I want to do it again.
I dip the towel into one of the glasses and cup Zarina’s face. “Cold?”
She nods as I wipe away cum and drool and smears of makeup until she’s barefaced, save for mascara and eyebrow tint. The way I’m used to seeing her at home. A little more vulnerable, a little less masked. I press a kiss to her temple.
And she snags the towel out of my hand. “Turn around.”
I chuckle. “You’re naked, and we just did very nasty things to each other?—”
She pushes my face away with a glower. “And I would like to clean the evidence of that without an audience.”
I shake my head, turning on my good knee, and shrug off my shirt. My tank is more than enough when she’s bare. I raise it behind me, and she snatches it out of my hand. I have to bite down on my laughter. The towel lands with a wet smack on the coffee table.
“May I turn around now?” I ask
“Bring the water with you.”
“Yes, princess.” I lift myself onto the couch, scooting back to sit beside her, and press the glass into her hand. She’s pulled her skirt, previously rumpled around her waist, back down, and buttoned up my shirt. It strains over her chest, meant for my slimmer frame and barely able to accommodate her delectable curves.
She tilts her head back to drink, and all I can picture is her face under me, tongue out, neck arched. I squeeze my eyes shut and slip my arm over the back of the couch, behind her, without touching her. Her body slides closer to me, inch by inch, her toes slipping under my legs. Ten little nubs of dry ice—so fucking cold.
“Come here.” I open my arms. “Get warm.”
She curls into my side, and I pull her closer, placing her feet between my legs to warm them up faster. She shivers as I rub her back and arms and lean my cheek against her crown. I wish I had a blanket to bundle up around her, tuck under her feet, her chin. A little princess burrito.
“Was everything we did okay?” I ask. We didn’t discuss anything like I wanted, not in a way that eases my conscience.
Zarina chews on her lip for a moment, taking time to answer. “I think so.”
“I welcome a different answer any time,” I murmur.
“Hmm.” She snuggles closer, shoving her hands between her legs. I want to draw her fully into my lap, let my heat seep into her.
Instead, I settle for rubbing patterns over her goose bumps. “Anything you really liked?”
She snorts. “Would you like a ranking?”
I grin above her head. “Sure.”
She holds up her fingers, starting with one. “Fucking my face is highest, bondage is a close second, and lowest is ‘cheeky slut.’”
“Why’s it lowest?”
She sniffs. “Because we’re not British, and I’m a brat.”
“Yes, you are.” I bury my mirth in her hair, knowing that if she sees it, I’ll likely earn a glare. “The overstimulation?”
Zarina gives a thumbs up. “Top tier.”