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Her moans vibrate on my dick, urging me to give it to her. Hard, fast, and completely sloppy. When I hit the back of her throat, I pull her off me and globs of spit fall down her face. Black mascara streaks down her cheeks, and I use my thumb to smear her red lipstick around her mouth.
She looks perfect. “You’re so fuckin’ beautiful.”
She looks up at me, saliva falling down her chin, hitting her tan skin and cascading down towards her perfect nipples.
“Rub your spit into your tits.”
I’m transfixed as her hands move to her round tits and she works in the spit, her eyes on mine.
“Such a good girl.”
I push her head against the wall and ram my cock in her mouth. She takes it like a champ. My balls are heavy with the need to come. I pull out of her and shoot my cum all over her neck and tits.
“What the fuck, Ciaran? I’ve got to go into the bar like this.”
I tuck my cock back in my pants and smirk at her. “You should’ve thought about that before you let another man touch you.”
“You wouldn’t leave me alone.”
I grab her by the throat and slam her against the wall. “You look so pretty like this, Hellcat. A perfect, meek little kitten. Listen good, baby girl, ‘cause I’m only gonna tell you this once. If I ever find another man sniffing around you again, not only will I kill him like I did that poor fucker, but I’ll chain you up to my bed and pound into you until you’re raw and begging for the mercy of death. Got it?”
A slow, sultry smile spreads across her lips just as the tip of her blade presses gently against my dick. “When I cut off your dick, you won’t have anything to use to fuck me or anyone else.”
Fuck, her fire is such a turn on. I lean into the blade, and her eyes go wide. “If I can’t have you, darling, you might as well cut it off ‘cause I’ll never use it again.”
Chapter Eight
PARISA
His words deflate me like a balloon. I don’t have the urge to stab him like I did a moment ago. Now all I want to do is curl up in his arms and stay there forever.
Ciaran is a powerful man, a dangerous man, a man that never lets his guard down for anyone or anything, but here he is, being vulnerable with me. I know what kind of risk that is for people like us, people who’ve been so damaged there’s no coming back from it. I don’t know what Ciaran’s history is, but I know to my core that it’s aligned with my damage.
We are two lost, empty, fractured souls that only seem to heal when we’re together.
I pull back, and he adjusts the straps of my dress and fixes my makeup. “There.”
I pull wet wipes from my purse, wipe the blood from his face and arms, and then my own. I’m glad we’re both wearing black. The crimson color of the blood is less visible. “I figure we shouldn’t go out in public drenched in blood.”
Ciaran smiles and bends to kiss my nose with a rare tenderness. “Good thinking, Hellcat.” He grins at me and takes my hand, walking us back to the club. “Let’s get a drink.”
I think that’s a great idea. After the night we’ve had, a drink would be welcome. We walk into the bar like we own the place.
“Parisa,” a familiar voice calls.
My entire body stiffens.
Maxim Fedorov.
I am not worried because Max is dangerous. Far from it, the eldest prince of the Bratva is one of my oldest and dearest friends. What worries me is Ciaran’s reaction to him.
Max tugs me to him, puts his arm around my shoulder, and squeezes.
“Get your arms off her, Max, before I fuckin’ rip them off you.”
Maxim’s lips twitch, and he smiles an easy smile, one that says he could have Ciaran killed on the spot if he makes one false move.
He ignores Ciaran and turns his face down towards me. “Do I need to kill him, Paris?”
I shrug out of Maxim’s grip and move closer to Ciaran, gently touching his arm. “No, this is my boyfriend.”
My words seem to reassure him, but you always have to keep your guard up with men like Max and Ciaran.
“You’re dating an O’Malley? Damn girl, you’re crazier than I thought. At least it’s not the quiet one.”
Ciaran steps forward, and I swear he growls like an animal.
Max chuckles and lifts his arms in the air. “Relax, man. I’m no threat to you. Paris here is like my kid sister. I’m not the Fedorov you need to be concerned about.”
Ciaran faces me, his hands gripping my arm a little too tight. He suddenly seems to realize because he releases me abruptly. “What does he mean by that?”
