Page 131 of Jewel of the Assassin

“Figures. She doesn’t wax or shave,” Valentina mutters.

I don’t look down. I stare at my wife. Every micro-expression. Every twitch. The shake of her hands as she grips the knife with both palms.

“God, this must be better than drugs,” she whispers.

Valentina brings the blade down, driving it deep in the carrion whore’s cunt. Blood gushes in a red fountain, coating Valentina’s hands. Selene wakes up, screaming. No, screaming is too demure for the unholy sounds coming from her throat. She passes out again, the loss of blood too much for the body to bear.

Valentina doesn’t loosen her grip. But I recognize the signs of the bile rising. As my wife yanks out the blade, I push Selene’s body up a little more, giving Valentina the position until sheshoves the dagger right up the ass, lodging it there. In the same moment, Valentina lurches. I catch her hair, holding it back as she retches all over Selene’s bleeding cunt.

“Wrong mouth,” I comment as my Valya lifts her head. Or the right one, I reflect with amusement.

Wiping away a smear of vomit, she shrugs, smiling sweetly. “Tomato, tomahto.”

God, I love this woman!

Together, we reduce Selene’s lover to a bloody pulp. My method is slow and precise, but Valentina’s is wild, just like when I caught her with the trespasser. The song fades by the time she finishes.

I remove my coat, wipe myself down, then offer it to her.

“Spasibo, Roman.” She wipes away the blood, but she can do nothing for her soaked wedding gown. For the first time, I rake my gaze across her, licking my lips. My cock has not gone down this whole time, and her eyes flick down. She gets that gleam in her eye.

Then, she glances back at Mikhail. “You have him?” she double-checks, cutting her gaze on Anton’s for the first time. He spits.

“Yes, my Lady,” Mikhail responds.

Even Levka and Fleur remain alert. Fleur is still holding the black bag, reminding me of Mary Poppins and treasures without number.

Her eyes return to mine, but she does not rise. “Roman?” She looks at the tenting fabric again. “Will you help me get rid of the taste in my mouth and do me the honor of letting me give you the best blowjob you could ever imagine?”

With a wry smirk, I unzip and take myself out. “Da, Moya Koroleva. But I believe it’s your turn for another song.”

She smiles. “Promise not to laugh?”

“On my honor.”

“Zina?”

Our house matron salutes us and lowers her hand to theshashka, giving it a little wiggle to make the lifeless guard twitch. Shalun caws and ruffles his feathers. She takes another swig of beer.

“Please play ‘It’s All Coming Back to Me Now’ by Celine Dion.”

Zina makes the selection.

My wife moves toward me, steady despite the tears in her eyes, and my chest tightens. I’m still raw from the violation done to me, and yet every nerve in my body screams for her. She’s here, and she’s mine, and for the first time since Selene’s touch, I feel like I can exhale.

And from the first musical chords, powerful and resounding, Valentina leans in and takes me in her hand. My breath accelerates. The music, along with her mouth, threads through my chest like she knows exactly how to pull me apart and put me back together at once.

She gives me everything. She tantalizes me with her tongue, spiraling it all over my shaft and sucking my balls one at a time.

I dig my fingers into her bloody hair, letting the heat of her presence burn through the ache and rage. She looks up at me, and I see it all—devotion, fire, love. My own hunger twists in my gut, sharp and desperate, and I know I will follow her command, whatever it is. Fucking love the sight of those stiff nipples, taut and erect for me, the outline of her breasts accentuated from the soaked gown.

Blood pulses to my length. I should take her head and guide her slowly and steadily. But dominance takes over every muscle, bone, and breath in my body. We are beyond casualties. Beyond tenderness. Here, in this bloody chapel, with the corpses rotting all around us and the scent of gunpowder and the echoes of screams in the air, our energies collide in a hard-driven coupling.

So, I drive myself deep into her mouth. I fuck her throat. I pour every drop of trauma into her, using her like a flawless, holy vessel to give me life again. Only she could do this, Valentina Makarova.

She ruins me for all other blowjobs.

Eyes fixed on mine, she doubles down on her efforts, sucking my cock, tonguing all around it like a feminine and possessive gift. My heavy balls draw up tight, on the verge of bursting. The hunger coils tighter than a strained wire.