Page 164 of Brutal Vows

He thrusts up into me with a grunt, making my breasts bounce. Balancing on my toes and holding on to his shoulders, I slide up and down on his shaft, my hard nipples skimming his chest, until we’re both moaning loudly.

Panting, he says, “Are you ready to take my cum?”

“Yes! Give it to me!”

He grabs my hips and pulls me down as he thrusts up, swearing and jerking so hard, the chair jumps.

I feel him spill himself deep inside me. I follow him over theedge into oblivion, convulsing around him as I helplessly cry out his name.

“Take it, baby,” he commands hotly into my ear. “Be a good girl and take every fucking drop.”

A wave of emotion overtakes me. I sob and lower my head, hiding my face in his neck. He slides his hands up my back and holds me as he grinds himself into me, growling in pleasure, my mobster who let me blindfold him and played such a wonderful gladiator.

I think I might actually like this bachelor pad after all.

THIRTY-EIGHT

REY

We spend the night there. We act out two more scenes from the book. I decline to participate in one scene Quinn found particularly fascinating, where the gladiator demonstrates exactly how the title of the novel was inspired.

I prefer not to have an ejaculate facial, thank you very much. My skin is quite moisturized already.

In the morning, I make breakfast from the single overripe avocado on the counter, the three eggs in the fridge of indeterminate age, and the loaf of sourdough bread in the pantry, half of which is moldy. I throw out the worst and pick off a few spots from the other pieces, then fry them up with butter in a pan.

“Avocado toast with fried eggs,” I say to Quinn, who’s sitting shirtless at the kitchen island. “It’s possible it will kill you. When was the last time you went shopping?”

“For food?”

“No, for uranium.”

“I usually eat out.”

“Ah. You and Declan must have big restaurant bills.”

“Oh, aye. We’ve got big… bills.” He grins, biting into his toast.

“Grow up.”

“You love it, viper.”

I do, but I won’t admit it. It will only encourage him.

His cell phone rings. Still grinning at me, he digs it out of his pants pocket and answers.

“Hullo.” He listens for a moment, then glances up at me. “We’ll be right over.”

When he disconnects, I say, “Who was that?”

“Declan. He’s got news about the break-in. Says you’ll want to hear it in person.”

We shower and change clothes, then head out to the palace Declan calls home. As soon as we’re seated in his office, Declan says, “Before we get down to business, Sloane made me promise to make another date for supper with you. So let’s work that out.”

“Oh. Supper.”

I glance at Quinn, sitting beside me with a bland smile. His digestive tract is probably more prepared to deal with Sloane’s culinary adventures than mine is, having most likely been subjected to them before.

“Actually, let’s back up a sec. Let’s talk about your promises.”