Page 50 of First Offense

The temptation to guide his mouth to my shaft had my stomach clenching with raw need. I knew how he’d take me, rough and furious. He’d probably fucking bite me, too. Which would only make me come that much harder.

He was a sadist.

Always had been.

And I got off on the pain and the challenge he provided.

I focused on his black wings, reminding myself of his Fall from grace, the wrongness of this lust, and the danger of our situation.

Except the events of the last week and a half—or however long it’d been—ran through my mind, and a spike of something else caused my heart to stutter.Pity. Because if this was the life he’d led for the last century, no wonder he’d turned even darker than before.

A place like this would taint even Layla.

It could probably convince me to Fall, too.

We can’t stay here, I realized, swallowing.It’s not safe.

Novak’s touch shifted to my hip, the soap caressing my skin as he finished washing the wound with the water. Then he gazed up at me with a familiarity that made my balls ache.

One word.

That was all he needed.

And I’d sink into the welcome sanctuary of his mouth.

So wrong. So fucking wrong. But my dick pulsed for him anyway, my body strung tight with frustration, pain, and anger.So. Much. Anger.

My head fell back against the wall, my grasp tightening in his hair.

I needed to pull myself together. Tell him to fuck off. Ignore the urge tofuck.

This is all Layla’s fault, I thought, miserable. Her scent. Those damn cherries. Even now, I could smell her. Ripe perfection. Sweet. A taunt to my senses that had my groin aching for her cunt.

I closed my eyes.I’m stronger than this.

Except Novak wasn’t Layla. He knew how to push all my buttons. He knew my body from decades of experience. And a hundred years had made him bolder, wiser, hardening him to this harsh reality.

I should have known better than to leave him unattended on his knees.

And a part of me probably did.

Which was why I didn’t yank him away as his mouth touched my shaft. Why I didn’t tell him to stop as he grazed the tip with his teeth. Why I didn’t go for my knife when he closed his mouth around my head.

Instead, I growled his name as memories flooded my mind, all of them involving his playing, his touch, his mouth, his everything.

We’d shared so many females.

And when we couldn’t find one to put between us, we fucked each other.

Something he reminded me of now with each stroke of his tongue against the underside of my cock.

I cursed, needing to stop this, to yank him away from me, to not give in to the beautiful temptation of his lethal energy.

But I was as weak for him as I’d always been.

Which made me hate him so much more. And Layla, too. She was the reason I’d found myself in this situation. Her damn black wings.

This fucking place.