She’s so fucking sweet, I nearly lose my mind. I’ve never had a sweet tooth before, but for her, I might develop one.
When her hips buck against my mouth, I pull back a few inches. “The flowers in the greenhouse. Answer me, Nika.”
“Fuck you.” The curse comes out strangled, broken by need. She trembles, her chest shuddering with her breaths.
My thumb circles but doesn’t quite touch her clit. “Why do you hate Roman?” I press on the sensitive bundle of nerves.
She nearly rises off the chair.
I put my mouth back on her. This time, I don’t hold back. With a slow drag, I lick from the bottom of her opening to the clit, where I stop and give a few fast flicks. She groans through gritted teeth.
I struggle to wrench myself away and focus on the task at hand. “Why do you want Roman dead?”
Her head falls back, exposing her throat.
Smiling, I nip the edge of her lip.
She squeals, clenching and bouncing in the seat.
Apparently, she enjoys a little pain with her pleasure.
“Tell me about Roman.” Lightly grinding my teeth, I work her delicate flesh while she squirms. “Tell me what he did. Tell me why you want him dead.”
She can barely speak through her heavy breaths. “He… He killed…” She clamps her mouth shut.
She’s stronger than I gave her credit for, and I’m exhausted, which only drives me to finish this sooner. I can’t stop now, though. Can’t let her see that I’m operating on nothing but fumes, fury, and the stubborn refusal to surrender. “We’re going again until you answer.”
Ignoring her clit, I reach up and pinch one nipple, then the other through her shirt.
Nika squeals again, her toes tapping on the floor and her hips thrusting right into my waiting hand.
She spears herself on my finger and moans, her back arched, her wide eyes locked on the ceiling.
Holding my hand still, I lean up to whisper in her ear. “What happened on Isla de Huesos that turned you against the Kozlovs?”
“Bite me.”
“Oh, I’ll do more than that.” I wiggle my finger inside her. “But only if you answer my questions.”
She shoves her hips forward, striving to get me deeper. I allow the action but remain still. She’s left slightly impaled, but she’s getting no relief from the contact.
“Tell me, Nika.”
“Fuck…you.”
“I think what you meant to say was, ‘Please fuck me.’” I add another finger and give her a second to adjust to the minute stretch. “What happened to turn you against the Kozlovs?”
She clenches around me, and her whole body shudders.
I pull away.
With a frustrated growl, she collapses back in the chair and glares at me, a tear sliding down her cheek.
I rock back on my heels, slowly stroking her with featherlight touches. Maybe, if she’s nice enough, I’ll let her fuck herself on my fingers.
But she’s not getting the real deal until she answers all my questions.
Chapter 22
