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I eyed his knife. “I need to buy some more,” I croaked when the butt moved down and slipped inside me.
He hummed in response, then stunned the hell out of me by shifting his hand away and flinging the knife across the room.
With a thud, and a weird vibration, I knew it had connected with the wall, and I tipped my head back to see where it had landed—the dartboard.
“Bull’s eye,” I whispered.
Another hum.
His fingers slipped over my legs, and he dragged me down the table, making me feel the strain of the stretch in my inner thighs.
His digits rubbed the taut muscles and I moaned, butt rocking as he touched a place I really didn’t need touching, focusing his caresses there instead of where I wanted.
My glance locked on him, I remained silent, sensing that he was testing me, and I was rewarded when he slipped his thumb to my gate and pressed inward, hooking up and back against the front wall of my pussy.
“Camille?” he crooned.
“Y-Yes?”
“Do you know who you are to me?”
Maybe he’d struck me dumb because my only answer was to croak, “Your wife?”
Brennan shook his head. “You’re more than that. Wives can be ignored. They’re chattel. Bargaining chips. Empty wombs that are to be filled.” He moved his thumb from side to side, rubbing confused tissues that didn’t understand if this was him teasing my G-spot or stretching the quivering flesh. “You’re not an empty womb. You’re not chattel. You’re not a bargaining chip.”
I licked my lips. “I am all those things, just not to you.”
“And who else matters?”
He was right.
I smiled. “No one else matters.”
His head rocked forward, and finally, his gaze moved from my pussy to meet with my own. He said nothing, just held my stare as he dipped down and pressed his mouth to my clit.
Immediately, he sucked hard against the nub, and I groaned as he kept me captive. Not just with his touch, but with his stare.
His tongue flexed and teased the sensitive bead of flesh, and the straining muscles of my inner thighs somehow turbocharged what I experienced, making the sensations hit more ferociously than normal.
When his hand pressed against my stomach, I gasped, back arching of its own accord as I reared up. Yet not once did our eyes break the connection that bound us together.
I dug my heels into the pockets, uncaring that they tangled with the netting, and I rocked my hips so I could grind into his face. His expression morphed at that, turning from moody and pensive to lit with a fire I expected from him.
It was then I realized he’d been holding back.
He smashed his mouth into my cunt, not even an eighth of an inch parting us as he gorged on my flesh like he wanted to swallow me whole.
I screamed.
No one would hear.
I let go.
No one cared if I wasn’t the perfect Bratva princess here.
My head wanted to flop back on my neck, but I didn’t let it, just kept my gaze trained on his, knowing that the way he looked at me as if I were his universe, his reason for getting up in the morning, triggered sensations even more powerful than what he was achieving with his tongue and teeth and lips.
His thumb retreated, replaced with three fingers that he scissored inside me. A groan rumbled from my lips as a fourth made an appearance, and all the while, he sucked.
