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“Max Collins has only existed for the last decade.”
What is he implying? Was Max evil, and I was blind to it?
I shiver at the thought.
Viktor tugs me closer. “Are you cold?”
“No. I’m just wondering how I missed it? Niko was around him.”
“You don’t need to think about him anymore. There’s no point in trying to make sense of it. He’s gone and can’t ever hurt you.”
I snuggle closer to Viktor before asking my second burning question, “What happened to his body?”
“Oliver took care of it. But enough about Max. He’s dead.” Viktor’s tone is cold, and his body is rigid, warning me to drop the subject.
Max is dead.
“You’re right. How are my babies?” I ask, changing the subject.
“Aisling is napping, and Niko is in the playroom.” When I wiggle out of his hold, he asks, “Where are you going?”
I smile at him. “To see my babies.”
“In a minute,” he says before moving me to face him.
He kisses me, and everything freezes.
I slide my fingers through his hair and tug him closer before deepening our kiss. A second later, my fingers fumble with his shirt buttons, and his hands travel to the bottom of my shirt.
He doesn’t wait for me to finish unbuttoning his shirt before he lifts mine over my head.
“You’re mine.” His voice is low yet powerful.
The hairs on my nape prickle when he kisses my neck. When I move my head to give him better access, he lays me back and kisses me down my neck. I close my eyes and focus on the feeling of his lips.
Moans escape me when he bites down on my breast through my bra.
“I need more,” I whisper.
It’s a dangerous demand since he’s in control, but I can’t help myself. He bites my other breast. It’s a delicious pain but also a warning. His fingers travel to the waistband of my leggings. In one move, he brings them down and takes my panties with them.
I shiver as the bedroom air hits my skin. Viktor sees it as an invitation to continue kissing his way to my stomach. I wish I could push him down faster. I need his tongue between my thighs.
Luckily for me, he isn’t in the mood to torture me because he continues kissing until he reaches my inner thigh. He then bites down and sucks hard.
I know what he’s doing—he’s leaving his calling card.
“This is to remind you that you will do as you’re told. You’re fucking mine, Ava Manarch.”
“Yours.” I moan.
His mouth covers my sex, and he sucks hard. I grip the sheets. This is where I belong.
Every lick makes me crave more, and just as I’m about to scream for it, he slides two fingers inside me. This is what I crave—my husband torturing me with pleasure.
He continues faster, softly biting my clit with every frantic lick of his tongue. I’m nearing the edge. My legs are trembling. I want—no, I need—release.
“Come for me, baby girl,” he commands, and obediently, I do.
