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The shameful gush of cream.
The fucking geyser he triggered that coated him like he’d just dropped a bottle of lube onto us both.
He pulled back, a smirk on his face as he looked at me, the promise of sin in his eyes that might have been an hallucination thanks to how hard it was to breathe, and he did it again.
He moved, took another meaty part of my calf and bit down once more.
It was then the doorbell rang, and though we both heard it, he didn’t stop clenching down or moving. He didn’t push off me and hurry over to the door, he just sent that sweet pain whistling through my system before he released my skin and against my leg, murmured, “That might be your sister. I arranged with my men to have her brought here this morning.”
My eyes flared wide when I heard a pinging sound that told me the elevator had been activated, one I’d heard yesterday evening as the doors opened into the main hall. Before I could protest, he pressed a hand to my mouth, covering both it and my nose, then he bit me for the third and final time.
And that was it.
Lights out.
Explosion not just imminent but detonated.
As the lack of oxygen turned my vision dark, a thread of golden light illuminated the world as my orgasm shot through me, ricocheting inside my body like it was a bullet shot wide.
There was no air to scream with, no way I could even wail.
I stared up at him blindly as the delirium of what he forced me to experience made me see things with a clarity that had always escaped me.
Brennan, at that moment, was the most beautiful man I’d ever seen.
Had ever wanted.
His nostrils were flared, his eyes wide, and his mouth a snarl as he chased his own end, and when I felt the tension in him reach fever pitch, he bit me one last time to stop himself from crying out.
I accepted the pain, savoring it as his hips rocked with wild abandon, as his movements became jagged and jittery, no longer dancing to that same rhythm of before as the heat of his seed drenched us both.
With his last thrusts, he rubbed it into me, and then he let go, and rasped, “You’re going to sign your life away today, Camille. You’re going to be mine.” Tension hit me, as exquisitely as my climax of before, then he broke it by rasping, “You’ll have my protection, your sister too, but this is your last chance to walk away.”
I shook my head as he moved, freeing my chest from the pressure of before, enough for me to cry out, “No—”
He raised a hand to stop me, but his focus wasn’t on me but my sticky pussy. His jaw worked, the muscles visibly clenching before he ground out, “You’ve done it now. This’ll be it. Every fucking time. If you don’t want what we just had, if it scares you, ifIscare you, then, when I’ve finished, you’ll get into that shower, you’ll clean up, and we’ll pretend like this never happened.” His gaze trapped mine before I could even squeak out a response. “If you’re ready for more, if you’re prepared for worse, then you’ll get dressed, covered in me, knowing fully what you’re walking into—a lifetime of this—and you’ll fucking love it.” He growled under his breath. “One last chance, Camille, that’s all I’ll give you.”
“I don’t want it,” I whispered, meaning it, choking out the words as he pulled back.
Pulled away.
And suddenly, I didn’t want that.
I never wanted him to pull away again.
There were shadows in his eyes as he growled, “You got me here on a promise. Well, I’m warning you that you mightwishyou were married to Abramovicz.”
My head whipped from side to side on the pillows. “Never.”
“I’ll be on you so much you won’t goddamn know where I begin and you end—”
“That’s…fine,” I whispered.Fine?More like bliss.
His mouth firmed. “Then you know what to do.”
And with one final lingering look to my cunt, like he was taking a mental snapshot, like he seriously thought this might be the last time he saw it, he climbed off the bed.
Bare-assed naked, he walked to the corridor lined with closets, where I heard a door opening, the rattling of coat hangers, before I heard another final door which he closed. Leaving me in here to slowly lower my legs, to feel the ache in my muscles, to take a deep inhalation at long last which triggered a bout of coughing, to accept a sorry, despicable, delicious truth.
I wanted more.
Of this.
Of him.
OfCamille. Not Cammie.
