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But I have no time to think. He undresses me, panties first, tank top second. His tongue licks my nipples as promised, hands teasing me still, making me breathe fast. His clothes come off next, his boxer briefs tossed aside, his cock so stiff he’s twitching. I put my hands on his chest and push him back before taking him in my mouth, licking his shaft, tasting the thick bead of precum on his tip.
“That’s right,” he purrs. “Nice and deep. Gag for me, wife. I want to watch you take me past your limits.”
I do as commanded, and—fuck—I gag, pulling back and breathing hard. Tears sting my eyes as I stroke him with both hands. “Like that?”
“Again,” he commands, eyes burning.
And I do it again. I take him deep, deeper than I’ve ever tried to go before, sliding him into my throat, going way past my limits—and I gag again, pulling back. My spit’s all over his cock, his enormous, beautiful cock with its thick veins. He’s pulsing rapidly in time to his heart and I want to please him so badly. I suck his tip again, stroking him with both hands, as he lovingly runs a hand down my back to my ass and spanks me.
He pushes me down until I gag and spanks me hard.
“Good girl,” he growls. “Good fucking girl.”
“You like that, don’t you?” I say, grinning as I stroke him fast. His eyes tell me everything I need to hear. “You like it when you push your cock into my mouth? I like it too.”
“Tell me why.”
“Because it makes you happy. It makes you feel good. And it makes me dripping wet when you grab my hair and fuck my mouth.” I shiver with excitement. I’ve never, ever talked like this before, but it feels good to let my guard down, to release myself and say all the dirty shit I have in my head.
He kisses me. His tongue laps mine and his hands move through my hair. He kisses my neck, my ear, my breasts, before turning me around. His cock presses against my lower back as he teases me from behind, purring in my ear.
“I want to fuck you until I fill you from behind,” he whispers. “I want to fuck you until you come, squeezing tight on my cock. Tell me you want me.”
“I want you to fuck me,” I say, moaning as he strokes my clit. “Oh, god, if you keep doing that, I’m going to come again.”
“Good,” he says.
“I want you to fuck me until I come,” I say, begging him now, losing myself completely. “I want to feel you stretch me apart, Evander. Fuck me until I scream. Make me sweat. Spank my ass, god, make it hurt. Make me come.”
He growls and pushes me forward. His thick bulk strokes into me, easily slipping deep, soaked with my spit and my juice. He rocks into me once, twice, three hard thrusts and it throws me over the edge. I come, back arching, but he’s not gentle. He’s not kind. He fucks me through it, taking me as his, claiming me with fingers and hands, whispering as he does it. “You’re mine, Camille, my wife, asteraki mu, this tight pussy, your moans, the back of your throat, it’s all mine.”
Sweat rolls down my skin. Time stops. He strokes into me again and again until all I can feel is him inside of me, fucking me, making me scream. I come, and he comes, and we’re a mess of sticky sweat and ejaculation. I end up lying on my stomach with him by my side, and I happily lick his shaft, cleaning him off as he tells me how pretty I am, how good I am.
“I could get used to that,” I say with a sigh as I curl up against his side.
But as soon as the words come out, I understand what I’m saying.
He only smiles at me. He doesn’t point out that just recently I was telling him I didn’twantto get used to any of this—because it’s all fake, and it’s all temporary.
“I let myself get so wrapped up in the war that I forgot to enjoy the reason I’m fighting.” He squeezes my ass and dips a finger between my legs. I shiver as he brings it up and licks it. “Now, let’s shower together and have breakfast before I leave for a long day of killing.”
“Sounds good to me,” I say, eyelids fluttering, floating in bliss.
Chapter49
Camille
Istand outside in the gardens. Bees flit from flower to flower and the sun feels good on my skin. I’m in shorts and a t-shirt, nothing special, my hair up in a messy bun, no makeup, just me and myself. I came out here to get some privacy, and I actually feel like I have some space alone even though Alonzo’s lurking nearby. The house is usually filled with staff and soldiers and captains—although I have no clue what half of them are doing at any given time. The smell of the grass, the taste of crisp fall on the breeze, it reminds me of home, and I can forget about where I am for a while.
I miss Philadelphia. I don’t miss my parents or the house I shared with Christopher, but I miss the streets, the old buildings, the sense of belonging. IknewPhilly, knew the alleys, the restaurant, the bars.
I knew the people. They were my people.
Here though, I’m a stranger. Chicago’s foreign, Chicago’s like another world, and I feel so disconnected from the city out here on the grounds of the Kazan mansion, tucked away in my own little paradise. Sometimes, I forget I’m in a city at all.
I come around a bend and slow to a stop. Ahead, someone’s kneeling on the ground, digging in the dirt and pulling weeds. I watch for a second, thinking it’s a member of the gardening staff, until she sits up and wipes her forehead with the back of her wrist.
It’s Sophia. She’s in jeans and a light blue top with a bandana over her hair and gloves on her hands. I’ve never seen her in anything but couture before, and this is almost surreal, watching her work in the dirt. Evander made it sound like Sophia would never be caught dead getting her hands dirty.
