Page 92 of Chicago Sin

“More?” His lips curl into a smile.

“I want more than this. I want you inside of me. I need you,” I admit, my voice catching in my throat.

I've never been one who could easily express my sexual needs and desires. But when I'm around him, he brings out a side of me that I never knew existed.

A side that craves his touch.

“I know what you need, Flowers.” He rolls me to my back and pins my forearms by my sides.

“Yes,” I breathe, thrilled by his dominance.

“You need me to fuck you?”

“Yes,” I answer immediately.

“You need me to fuck you hard, baby girl?”

“Yes, please.”

“You're asking for it.” He reaches down to grab my panties and pulls them down my legs. He tosses them on the floor, then grabs my ankles and lifts my legs towards the headboard. I squirm in pleasure as he spreads my legs apart, exposing my pussy to his hungry gaze.

“You're so fucking wet for me,” he growls as he lowers his head, pressing his lips against my thigh, then moving towards my pussy. “So wet and ready for me, aren't you?”

He doesn't wait for an answer. His lips land on my clit, and he sucks it between his lips. His warm tongue flicks over my clit, torturing it in a most delicious way.

I squeeze my eyes shut, warmth spreading through my body as a bolt of electricity shoots up my spine. I gasp as he pushes his tongue deep inside of me, groaning as it slides against my swollen clit. His tongue pushes inside of me, and my pussy contracts, quivering against his mouth.

He pushes two fingers inside of me, and my pussy contracts around them. I'm so close. “Put it in me,” I breathe, struggling to find my voice.

“Put what in you?” His fingers plunge even deeper, driving me wild. He’s making me beg.

I oblige. “Your cock. I want it. I need it.”

“Nice and slow?” he asks.

“Yes,” I nod.

“Are you sure? Or do you want it rough and hard?” he teases.

“However you want. I just want you to fuck me.” My heart pounds in my chest. The blood sizzles through my veins.

I’ve never had an addictive personality. I don’t drink. I don’t smoke. Nothing has ever taken hold of my senses.

Until Armando.

I’m completely addicted to him.

And I’m terrified he’s going to break my heart.

Chapter Five

Hannah

The sun spills through the thin curtains of my small apartment, casting a soft glow on the room.

I hear water running in the shower, and knowing Armando is still here calms me.

I get up and flit aimlessly around the bedroom, picking up strewn clothing without thinking. No, that’s not true. I’m trying not to think, but yesterday’s events are playing on loop in my mind. The sudden screech of tires, the sharp crack of gunfire, and Marco's pained eyes haunt me.