Page 118 of Scarred Angel

“I don’t care about him,” she grinds out.

“I know.”

And I do. I believe her.

“But a crowbar to that fat head of his might make me feel better.”

She yanks her door open. “I just hate his stupid face. Hate that I was so dumb.”

I spin her, pinning her against the car. “Say the word, and you’ll never have to see him again.”

Asking is just a courtesy. When I decide a man needs to die because I don’t like the way my girl’s face drops when she sees or remembers he exists, then he dies.

She chews her lip and looks away, conflict written across every line of her face. Valentina’s a Cain. Violence doesn’t scare her. But she’s also Evangelina’s daughter, and I know outright murder isn’t something she takes lightly either.

A slow, resigned sigh escapes her, and she shakes her head. “No. I’d rather see his stupid face when I beat him in a race instead.”

“Are you up next? Against him?”

“I’ll make sure of it.”

I turn her around again, my mouth at her neck before she can take another breath. “Then I want to give you something before you go. A little good-luck charm.”

She moans, tilting her head, nails dragging through my hair. “And what’s that?”

I don’t bother answering. I shove her into the car, circle the hood, and slide into the passenger seat.

“Off,” I say, already unbuckling my belt and pushing my pants down.

It doesn’t take long before she’s straddling my lap, her back pressed tight to my chest.

One hand snakes around her throat, while the other slides down her body and between her legs. I growl against her ear when I find her already so fucking wet for me.

I slide two fingers inside her, slow and deep. She rocks against my hand, my name spilling from her lips in a soft, drawn-out moan.

“You just need to say it, Kolibri. Tell me to take care of the problem, and it’s done.”

My thumb circles her clit, and her head drops onto my shoulder.

“Open your eyes,” I murmur, tightening my hand around her throat. “Look at him out there while you’re in here, with my fingers buried in your cunt.”

Her lashes flutter, and she forces her gaze forward, a shiver running through her when she sees him.

“Fuck him,” she breathes.

A dark laugh rumbles out of me as I slip another finger inside her, stretching her open, curling them just right against that spot that makes her fall apart for me every damn time. Her hips jerk, her breath stutters, and she grips my forearm hard enough to leave marks.

“That’s my girl,” I growl, working her. “You’re not thinking about him anymore, are you?”

She shakes her head, but it’s not enough. I want the words. I always want the words from her.

“Say it,” I demand, fingers thrusting deeper. “Tell me who you’re thinking about.”

“You,” she gasps, rolling her hips into my hand. “Fuck, Maksim…you. Always you.”

“Good.” My thumb drags tight circles over her clit, faster this time, and her breath catches on a broken sound I feel all the way to my cock. “Because while he’s out there, pretending he’s happier, pretending he doesn't want you back, you're in here with me...wet, needy, taking my fingers like my good little slut.”

Her thighs tremble. She’s close. I can feel it in every desperate grind of her hips.