Page 57 of Brutal Devil

I’m on the edge, so I break the kiss.

“Take my cock now, baby.”

Our foreheads are pressed together. A trickle of sweat glides down my spine. She guides my dick to her pussy and then grinds against me. I feel the hot, wet kiss of her on my cock head, and then I’m inside her. And fuck, it’s so good, so damn good. Better than I ever imagined, going bare inside Luna. She’s strangling my dick, almost forcing me out.

One roll of my hips, and I’m deeper. This is where I belong, deep inside her. A raw, feral surge of possessiveness hits me.

She’smine.

“Hold on to me,” I warn her.

She grasps my shoulders, clinging to me, obeying. I kiss her while I fuck her. Hard kisses to match my deep thrusts. Her head bounces off the glass. I plant one palm on the window, leveraging myself as the other hand stays between her legs, working her clit. We’re kissing and fucking, a tangled mess of breath and bodies and tongues.

She comes on me, and I swallow her cry with my mouth, drinking it down, ravenous for her. For every part of herself she has to give. I want it all.

And as her pussy clenches on my dick, I thrust one more time before I lose control, coming inside her and filling her up just like I promised I would. My heart is pounding along with hers, our bodies slicked with sweat, and below us, the casino carries on like nothing has changed, when everything has.

“I’m keeping you, Luna Andriani.”

Her head dips to my shoulder, almost as if in prayer, and she says nothing.

Chapter 14

LUNA

What the fuck have I done?

Oh, that’s right. I’ve fucked Priest.

That’swhat I’ve done.

It’s so mind-bendingly stupid that I can’t even wrap my head around what happened in that casino viewing room.

During the walk of shame I take back to my prison, I blame it on my ovaries. On the fact that I’m skating closer to that time of the month and my libido is raging out of control as usual. I blame it on Priest’s cologne. On that fucking shirt that showcases his tatted, muscled arms. On the wine. On his tongue.

On his finger.

OM-effing-G, his finger. In my ass. And I liked it.

I liked what he did to me, what he said to me. The way he took control. The way he dribbled wine all over me and then licked it off. The way he fucked me, standing up, against a glass wall, while hundreds of unsuspecting people made him richer below.

Fuck my life. I’m not even on birth control. I dodged the appointment for my last shot because I’d been having really bad migraines and I was trying to narrow down the source. Asit happened, the headaches stopped with the shots. I let them lapse because I was single. I had no intention of sleeping with anyone; I was focused on my thesis and the last year of my MFA. I wasn’t thinking about the potential complications that could arise from stopping the shots and not taking any additional steps to be safe.

All of which means I could have a gangster baby on board.

Right. Fucking.Now.

I feel like I may pass out.

The urge to whip out my phone and text Isla hits me, and I’m slipping a hand inside my pocket before I remember I have no phone. Well, I do. But it’s no longer in my possession.

Everything is a blur until we reach the elevator that brought us up from the bowels of his safe house. Sleek doors greet us, along with a pad for his thumbprint and a retinal scanner. The doors are flanked by two armed guards who are careful not to make eye contact. There are cameras overhead, following our every step.

Security is tight.

No one is going to get into the safe house who doesn’t belong there.

“Good evening, Mr. Andriani,” says one of the guards as we wait for the elevator to zoom to our floor.