Leaving my clothes where they fall, I climb into the shower before cranking up the heat. I’m barely under the water for two minutes when the it switches from moderately warm to skin-scorching hot.
“Jesus fucking Christ.”
As I dive through the shower curtain, a lighting quick montage of the punishment Rico endured years ago flashes before my eyes. When Sergei threw acid on his back at Vladimir’s request, not a peep escaped his lips, yet here I am squealing like a banshee over a little water.
I must be getting soft in my old age.
Pissed about the weak, insolent man I’m portraying, it takes me a good ten seconds to discover the reason for the extra steam in the bathroom. Justine is standing across from me, fiddling with the hem of her shirt. Her teeth have caught her lower lip, and her eyes are blazed with lust.
The need in her heavy-hooded gaze switches my mood from tormented to playful in under a second.
“Morning, Justine,” I greet her in Russian, my voice extra husky from the comical bulge of her eyes when they land on the dragon tattoo weaved across my right hip and halfway down my thigh. It’s an explosion of color that hides more than a handful of secrets.
They say every tattoo tells a story.
Mine don’t.
They hide them.
The heaviness on my chest clears away for smugness when Justine gabbles, “My god, is that a python?”
"It's a dragon," I correct, aware she’s not referencing my tattoo but more than eager to discover if she’ll argue the fact she was eyeing my cock like I left three Benjamin Franklins on her nightstand. Her eyes represent big shiny marbles of innocence, but I know she’s horny. I can feel it, much less smell it.
After several long seconds of silence, I mutter, “Be careful,Ahren. A dragon has never died from a snake bite, but that doesn’t mean it shouldn’t be wary of the snake. Venom isn’t a snake’s only danger.”
My cock goes from semi-aroused to painfully hard in an instant when Justine’s eyes snap to mine. Hunger is brightening her alluring gaze, but for once, it isn’t for a fight. They’re as stormy as they were last night when I had her pinned against her front door. She’s liking what she sees—scars and all—and it has me more than eager to make her mine.
When I head her way, my steps painstakingly slow so Little Red Riding Hood knows the Big Bad Wolf has her in his sight, Justine strays her eyes to the side, where they remain until she builds up the courage to sidestep me.
I could let her go, but I’m done playing nice. Not only are haunted memories reminding me of the bastard I was born to be, I’m confident she wants this as much as me.
She just needs to be shown how badly.
When I cinch my arm around her waist to draw her into my torso, she freezes like a statue. If I heard her squeak right, she’s not hightailing it out of the bathroom because she is in fear of her life. It’s because she’s petrified about giving in—again.
With my pulse high and my hips struggling not to buck against her like a stallion, I ask, “You like what you see, yet you continually deny me. Why?”
Justine proves she’s as feisty as her hair coloring when she snaps, “Who says I like what I see?”
She purrs like a motherfucking kitty when I grind my semi-erect cock against the meaty globes of her ass. It is the fight of my life not to bend her over the tub and defile her now. I would if this was another day at the office. There I don’t ask. I command. I’m trying something new this weekend. Will I be scolded for it? Most likely. But when you are forced to live your entire life in thirty, you’ve got to mix things up occasionally.
“Tell me again you don’t like what you see.” I take a moment to settle the unbridled hunger in my voice before saying, “You want my cock nearly as much as I’m dying to slide it between your lips.” When a lie flares through her wholesome eyes, I squash my finger against her plump lips. “Before you speak, be warned: if you lie to me again, I’ll tie you up and bring you to the brink of climax over and over again, only stopping when my cum is covering every inch of you. Then I still won’t let you come, no matter how much you beg.”
I realize she likes things dirty when she stops fighting against my hold. Although pleased I’ve unearthed one of her quirks, a lack of sleep has made me as restless as the heady scent of her cunt.
“I won’t chase someone who doesn’t want to be chased,Ahren.” I spent my entire childhood striving for the unattainable. I refuse to do it again. “Do you want this? Yes or no.”
I’m anticipating for her to nod, so you can imagine my shock when she whispers, “No, I don’t.”
I remain quiet, her rejection like a bullet to the head. I’ve never been turned down before.
I guess there’s a first time for everything.
Although anger should be sluicing my veins, I can’t help but smile when I set Justine back onto her feet so I can enter the still running shower. She keeps saying, “No, no, no,” but her body is screaming, “Yes, yes, yes.” Her nipples are budded and pressed against her shirt, no amount of wideness can detract from the need in her heavy-hooded gaze, and don’t get me started on her scent. I’ve never smelled something so erotic in my life.
The scorching hot water pumping out of the dated faucet has made the air muggy, but not even its dampness can suffocate the energy that crackles between Justine and me when I wrap my hand around my thick cock to give it a determined stroke.
I’m as toey as fuck, but that isn’t the reason I’m stroking my dick like a loser who can’t get a date. I’m doing it for the exact reaction Justine gives me two seconds later. Her gasp is even better than I was anticipating, and when its quickly chased by the pungent scent of her deprived cunt, it’s damn near catastrophic.
