Page 20 of Jewel of the Assassin

“Relax your throat. Stop tensing. And when I nudge your gag reflex, swallow me down.”

Her violet eyes widen and glisten with tears. She blinks them back, narrows those hypnotic orbs, and tries again. And again. It takes a few times. Deep breaths in between. It’s sloppy. It’s raw. It’s unskilled.

But it’s her. Here. Real. And on her knees before me.

After taking a long, deep breath, she sucks me down, swallowing my crown. Ahh, fuck! I begin to thrust. Slow, purposeful motions, praising her when she stretches her mouth to avoid scraping me with her teeth. My breaths quicken. Blood roars to my cock.

I am halfway to a sadist. I love it rough. I love aggression. I love teeth and claws. I love to beat a worthy woman into submission, and I am a master of the art of bringing her to the depths of pain and the heights of pleasure.

I will train and discipline Valentina as I see fit. I will also take care of my woman in the aftermath. She will never want for anything. She will associate my touch with her every desire.

When I work my cock harder and deeper, her hands fly up. My jaw hardens, but she doesn’t try to push me away. Nor does she try to yank her head free. Not that she could with my ironclad grip on her hair. Instead, her hands settle on my bare ass. Every muscle there flexes…and turns to steel.

Her throat convulses as I pick up my pace, fucking her mouth, making her take every inch. As her nails dig into my globes, I groan deeply, retract to give her air, and then shove inside her throat again.

My control is dangerous. I feed off her like the carnal predator I am. She gives me everything. Her eyes. Her tears. Her arousal. I smirk slightly because I can see her fluids glistening on her thighs, betraying her want.

She chokes again. “Open your throat,” I lower my voice before giving her another breath. “Now, touch yourself while I come, maya Valya.”

Better this time. Her brows lift, but her quivering fingers move lower. It seems to help, and I approve of how she arches her throat and sucks me stronger. Her fingers dance along her slick labia as her tongue swirls around my cock. My balls draw up tight.

Rolling my hips and pistoning inside her, I chase my release, rumbling more deep groans.

Balls slapping her chin, I jerk against her lips, slam my cock down, and bury myself to the hilt in her throat, shooting my cum inside. She swallows at first, but then sputters, cries, and coughs. I don’t punish her for how globs fall down her chin. Or how she winces, whether from the taste or texture.

She will get used to it.

My cock still pulses in her mouth as I slide it in and out with slow, precise care. Ahh, fuck, she closes her lips around my head, milking the last of me. Her cheeks are so flushed, her pupils dilated, and her chest heaves with frantic breaths. And then, I know why.

Tilting my head, I focus on how she’s still touching herself, rubbing her clit in slow circles.

Before she may claim her pleasure, I take her elbows and raise her, catching her unsteady frame.

A moan escapes her throat just before I seize her mouth in a kiss—deep, ruthless,mine. One hand grips the back of her neck, the other wraps possessively around her throat, and I show her exactly how a real man kisses what belongs to him.

My cock hardens instantly, but I control myself.

Her back arches, her body rising, begging for more. There’s nothing safe or gentle in the way I touch her. She feels my cock grinding against her soaked pussy, every slow thrust a promise of what’s to come. And soon, I will sink into the hot, wet heat of her and split her open to the soul.

I’ll fuck her boneless, mindless, andheartless.

By the time I’m done, every piece of her heart will belong to me.

She’s nestledin my lap, her back to my chest, the weight of her body warm and slick in the steaming water. The bath is deep, and I sit with my back against the cool edge, holding her against me like a war-won prize.

When I undressed, I knew she wanted to ask about my tattoos, but she was too overwhelmed following the blowjob.

Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, the world spreads out in violent, breathtaking beauty. Thin waterfalls like spills of lace cascade down the forested cliffside and into a waterway flowing to the endless, churning Bering Sea. Mountains flank the edges of the sea, crowned in snow.

“How long have we been married?” she asks, voice soft and careful.

The heat and perfume of roses drift in the air, the petals clinging to her pale gold skin like blessings.

Nothing compared to her natural femininity.

“A little over two years,” I say smoothly.

It’s not far from the truth. She would’ve just finished college. I was still overseas—earning this life the only way I knew how: through blood. Burning a rival syndicate to the ground and handing my father its bones took some time.