Page 140 of Thorns of Death

I rubbed my cheek against his already hard length as anticipation danced down my spine. I wrapped my hand around his shaft and licked him, from base to tip.

He let out a grunt, watching me through hooded eyes—dark and hazy. Desire was pulling me under and I found myself not wanting to come up for air.

My gaze found his glass on the side table and I reached for it. I slipped an ice cube into my mouth, sucking on it and swirling it around before letting it slide back into the glass.

I took his hard length back into my mouth, my cold lips drawing a rasp from my husband. “Ahh, cazzo.”

His head fell back, but not for long. He tilted it back down so he could watch me. I laved at him with my tongue, breathy noises escaping me.

Heat bloomed in my stomach, moving lower in a wave that had me clenching my thighs together. I took him deeper into my mouth, inch by inch, using my tongue to tease his crown. Taking my time; savoring his taste. Then I took him deeper into my mouth, bringing my half-lidded, lust-filled gaze up to his.

His hands came to my face, holding it as he slowly slid deeper. My eyes watered. I couldn’t breathe when he reached the back of my throat, but I remained still, letting him fuck my mouth.

I wanted him to use me. I wanted to give him everything he needed. Because I loved him. I loved the sounds he made when he was close, the low grunts and sharp breaths. His fingers found my hair and gripped it, like he was worried I’d stop.

His muscular thighs quivered under the expensive fabric of his Armani pants.

“You will swallow every drop.” I blinked my acknowledgement, loving the possessive gleam in his eyes a second before he came.

“Yes, baby,” he rasped, tensing as he came with a small shudder, his eyes falling shut.

I swallowed and licked my lips, my skin growing hot when his eyes found me again. I kept his length in my mouth as he twitched with the last aftershocks of his orgasm, stroking his balls lightly and only gently sucking. My own lust was heavy between my legs, but I ignored it. This was for him.

He cupped my cheek and brought our faces together. When he pressed his mouth to mine, our tongues slid together. I dug my fingers into his hair, kissing him deeper as a moan bubbled in my throat.

“How is it that you married me, and suddenly, I’m on my knees for you?” I teased, nipping his lip. “At least before I said ‘I do’ you were the one kneeling.”

He chuckled. Deep and full. I loved the sound of him laughing. It filled me with as much warmth as his kisses did.

“I’ll have to compensate for it, huh?” I didn’t answer, instead I just kissed him again. Wet. Hot. Needing him like I needed air to breathe.

In one swift move, he brought me up to straddle him. His hand slid between my legs, pushing two fingers inside me. “You’re soaked,” he murmured against my lips.

He slipped his fingers in and out of me, spreading my arousal.

“My turn,” he rasped.

I moaned with anticipation, grinding against his hand, when the ringing of a phone cut through the air.

He stilled, palpable tension shooting through him which in turn sent an alert through me. He pulled away and the ache between my legs protested, but I ignored it. Instead, I watched him reach for his cell phone I hadn’t noticed and answer the call.

“Sì.”

Rushed Italian words came from the other line. Urgent. By the dark expression on Enrico’s face, something bad was going down. Enrico was quiet for a while before frustration lit in his eyes.

“I’m coming.”

He hung up, and silence swept into the room.

“It couldn’t be Illias,” I murmured, slightly disappointed he was leaving.

He ran a hand across my cheek. “It’s not.” I waited as he ran a hand across my cheek and kissed me again. “Sofia Volkov has been spotted. They have her cornered. I have to go.”

Still on his lap, I kissed him hard, savoring every lick and press of our lips. It turned gentle. Soft. As if it were our last kiss.

He stood up—my legs still wrapped around him—and he set me down in the chair he’d just occupied.

“Stay in the castello until I’m back.”