Page 41 of Sinful Hearts

This time, it’s to pleasure my wife.

While I enjoy bloodshed, I’d much prefer to taste Liliya.

“Please,” she begs. “I’m … oh my fucking Gooood.”

Her body shakes, her limbs trembling.

I sink another finger inside her, my pace moving faster, thrusting as hard as I fucking can. Even though I hardly know her—don’t even know her middle fucking name—I one hundred percent know when she’s about to come on my tongue.

Her thighs squeeze around my head, pressing against my ears, while her hips buck against my face.

I relish the taste and aroma of her cum on my tongue as she lets herself go.

I peek up, taking in every second of her orgasm.

How she shuts her eyes, how her lips pinch together, her fucking beauty.

I hold my palm against her waist, pushing it against the wall to stop her from collapsing to her knees. Her thighs fall limp, loosening around my body, and I ease myself back.

I wait until she’s fully come down from her high before standing tall. Staring her down, my standoffish demeanor returns.

I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, my lips only inches from hers. “I ate, and now it’s your fucking turn,guaio.”

13

My head spinsas I try to collect my breath.

Emilio makes sure I’m steady before stepping out of the shower.

Goose bumps prick my skin as I bend down to grab the towel and wrap it around myself.

I count to ten, praying Emilio leaves the bathroom, but he doesn’t.

Sighing, I step out of the shower, holding the towel tight, and search my brain for the right words to say.

You can leave now.

Thanks for the orgasm, but I still don’t like you.

Luckily, he starts the conversation for me.

“Your dinner is on the nightstand,” he says, suddenly back to business.

Like what happened in the shower was nothing to him.

“You need to eat.” Without offering me another glance, he leaves the bathroom.

I hurriedly dry myself before shrugging on my pink cashmere robe. Tying it around my waist, I stomp into the bedroom. Emilio is seated on the edge of my bed, typing on his phone.

He stops when he notices me, slips his phone into his pocket, and jerks his head toward the nightstand. “Eat, Liliya.”

“I’ll eat when I damn well please,” I snarl.

He massages his temples. “I already drew blood from one Morozova today. I don’t mind doing the same with another.”

“What?” I suck in a breath. “Did you hurt Dasha?”

“Negative.” He gives his temples another stroke before dropping one hand and rubbing his dark brow with the other.