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“Oh? And if they’re not wise?”
He takes one strand of my hair and twists it around his finger. “Then, I would . . . send my pet assassin to shut them up. Indefinitely.”
“Why would you bother? It’s only a little old me. I doubt what people say is worth so much trouble.”
“There are always consequences for what people say. Many have been crucified or died because of loose tongues.”
“The guilty, or the innocent?”
“Death doesn’t discriminate. I do.”
I lightly brush his cheek near the cut with the tips of my fingers. “Will I end up nailed to a wall, too?”
Drago releases his hold on my hair and trails his knuckle along my jaw. “You will definitely end up pinned to the wall. Many times,mila moya.”
“But no nails?” I smirk.
He leans forward and places a kiss on my lips. “No.”
“I’m sorry, Drago,” I whisper into his mouth, then remember he can’t hear it. Leaning away, I make sure he can see my lips and say it again. “I’m sorry for lying to you. I didn’t share anything important with the don, I swear.”
“Why not?”
I shrug. “It just didn’t feel right.”
“Because?”
“Because I like it here. I like Keva, the girls, your men . . .”
Drago’s jaw clenches. He grabs the back of my neck and squeezes.
“You are not allowed to like my men, Sienna,” he bites out. “Nor any other man. Just me.”
“Is that an order?”
“Yes.”
“You’re not exactly likable, Drago,” I say and press my lips together, trying to subdue the urge to laugh. The dark look on his face is hilarious. “I mean, I could try to like you if you’d stop glowering all the time. Or stop waking me up at six thirty to run with you.”
He narrows his eyes at me but says nothing, so I continue, “Maybe you could try spoiling me with presents. But not guns! Think shoes, or maybe a nice neon-colored jacket. Or more of those pretty crystal pebbles. Green would work great as sea glass rocks in my fish tank.”
His hold on my neck loosens, and his hand slowly glides down my back and over my ass, all the way to my pussy. I suck in a breath when his finger teases my entrance.
“Flowers would help, too. As well as—” I gasp when his finger slips inside.
“Please continue, I’m taking notes.”
“Notes?” I moan and press my face to his chest. My breaths leave me in short bursts.
“Yes. On courting my wife,” he says as he slides in another finger. “But maybe I should try something else now since there aren’t any shoes or jackets close by.”
Suddenly, his finger withdraws. Drago grabs my waist and pulls me up until I’m crouching just above his head, my pussy weeping over his wicked mouth. One long, leisurely lick, and I’m grabbing onto the headboard and pressing my forehead on my hands. His tongue strokes me—slowly, methodically. Each move is deliberate but bears more pressure, making the throbbing in my core increasingly intense. I’m barely keeping it together when he squeezes my ass cheeks and sucks my clit.
I scream. Tremors rack my body, making my limbs shake as he sucks harder and harder. My eyes roll into the back of my head, and, with another loud cry, I come all over his face.
Yes, this is definitely better than flowers.
* * *
