Page 147 of Scarred Angel

“Y-yeah…fuck.” Her voice is broken, desperate. One elbow bends, but she recovers.

Always so goddamn stubborn.

“Beautiful landscape,” I murmur, squeezing her ass cheek with one hand while my finger trails along her seam, then dips inside. “So smooth, so wet. And so damn good.”

Valentina’s balance finally gives when I suction hard, and she collapses, legs folding around my neck. But I don’t let go. I tug her closer, mouth greedy, tongue relentless, holding her upside down like my own little Valentina lollipop.

“Fuck—Maksim?—”

I growl against her, drunk on the sound of her coming undone, on the taste that drags every last ounce of control out of me.

“I win.”

My victory is short-lived. Even on the brink of her orgasm, her hands reach into my sweatpants, freeing my cock. She strokes once, then takes me into her mouth.

“Oh, shit,” I hiss, the words strangled when her lips wrap around me. Her tongue teases the head in slow, lazy swirls that make my vision blur for a second.

“Not fair,” I groan, gripping her thighs tighter, still tasting her, still starving for more. She hums, and the vibration shoots straight through me. I curse and steady the tremble in my legs.

“Thought you liked fair play,” she says, mouth full of cock—just how I like her—but still smug as hell.

“I’m still winning,” I bite back, dragging my tongue through her sweet cunt again, rougher this time, forcing her to wimper around me. The sound alone nearly undoes me.

Her rhythm stutters, and I feel the moment she starts to shatter. Her hips twitch, her moans vibrating down my shaft as her breath becomes erratic. I slide my fingers deeper inside her, curling them just right, and that’s all it takes for my girl to fall apart.

Her entire body tightens, trembling as she comes against my mouth. I hold her there through every quiver, devouring every second until she’s panting into my skin.

When she finally goes limp, I ease her down, guiding her onto her back. Her cheeks are flushed, lips swollen, eyes glazed over with pleasure and defiance.

I drag the back of my hand across my mouth and smirk.

“You nearly had me there.”

She gives a breathless laugh, hand still wrapped around me. “Your win is my win too, Maxy. So don’t get a big head.”

I lean over her, bracing my weight on one arm as my other hand slides up her throat. “You sound like someone who wants to lose again.”

Her smile falters just enough to reveal the spark I love most, that mix of challenge and surrender.

“Absolutely. Only win harder this time and make me cry.”

Extended Epilogue

THIAGO BRAGA

Houston breathes differently after midnight. It's when the air reeks of oil and rain, mixed with diesel and salt from the bay. I lean against the hood of the SWAT van as droplets run down the back of my neck, my pulse still hammering from the raid.

We were called in to clear a warehouse near the Port of Houston after receiving a tip of a trafficking front. Same story, new victims. Except today, there were no survivors apart from one half-dead kid who’d rather die than talk. He got his wish.

Captain claps my shoulder on the way out.

“Good work, Braga. Go home and get some rest.”

Home.

Right.

I watch the others pile into their trucks as the last of the sirens fade, and I’m left with silence and the taste of copper in my mouth. Something about tonight feels heavier than usual.