The Enforcer (Chicago Bratva #3) - Renee Rose Page 0,15

manner of dirty-talk swimming in my head, and I don’t have a way to get it out. To check in with her. Make sure she wants to get what I want to give.

But she told me earlier, didn’t she? She made it clear what she wanted.

I bite her neck and slip my hand down her belly and into her pajama bottoms. She opens her knee for me. I suck in a breath when my fingers stroke past her silky landing strip and over her slit. She isn’t wearing panties, and she’s hot and wet for me. I run the pad of my finger through her juices, dragging them up to swirl around her clit. It stiffens and lengthens under my touch.

The memory of making her come the last time gets me harder than stone. I want to take my time with her now, but I fear I won’t have the finesse. Not with my head still aching and my stamina so low.

I catch her throat with my other hand and pull her head back to my shoulder as I slide my finger over her sex, listening to her little gasps and mewls.

You want me to touch you here? To make you come? Or do you need my cock?

I wish I could fucking ask her. But I can’t, so I use my fingers to please her. I circle her clit until she squirms, her little whimpers growing more desperate, then I screw one inside her. I love the way her legs clamp closed, and her hand presses down over the top of mine.

“Your fingers are as big as some guys’ cocks,” she moans.

I love that she’s dirty-talking, but mentioning other guys’ dicks makes me want to kill every guy she’s ever been with.

“You’re not going to hold out on me this time, are you?” She rocks her hips taking my finger deeper.

Aw, fuck.

Now she’s getting it.

I slip my finger out and sit up.

Story sits up, too. “What?”

Okay, I was working up the strength to climb out of bed for a condom. But I remember she set my wallet on her nightstand when she washed my jeans. I point to it, and she snatches it up. “Condom?” She sounds breathless.

I love when she reads my mind.

I take the wallet, flip it open, and pull out the condom.

“Let me help.” She pushes me to my back. I hide my wince when my tender head hits the pillow. I’m too fascinated by my shalun'ya—my bad girl—to care about the pain. She straddles my legs, ripping the condom wrapper open with her teeth.

I tug the hem of her tank top twice and lift my chin. I’m being demanding, but I can tell she likes it because a naughty smile curls her lips, and she whips it off over her head and throws it to the floor.

Ah, those glorious tits. Her nipples are pale—peach tipped—and sweet, making the sight of her breasts feel like an unexpected gift.

She pulls my briefs down to free my erection and wraps her hand around the base. “Wow.” She sounds impressed. “It’s, ah, definitely bigger than your finger.”

I hold up my hand for comparison, and she smiles, her gaze lingering on my face.

“I didn’t expect you to be quite so…”

I go still, worried about what she’s going to say.

“...aggressive. It was hot.”

It takes a couple seconds for me to get over thinking it was a complaint. I hadn’t meant to be so dominant, but it had been hard to hold back all my pent-up desire for her. Story’s been my obsession for a long time now. But to hear she liked it, that she wants that, makes the motor inside me roar to life. Whatever stamina I was afraid I didn’t have appears. I could fuck this girl all night long if it was night.

Which it isn’t.

She lowers her head and slides her mouth over the tip of my cock. My head nearly explodes with pleasure. And pain. But the pleasure. I groan out loud, surprising myself because I generally try to stop myself from letting any sound emerge.

Story slides her mouth down and up again, raising gooseflesh all over my skin. She pins her gaze to mine watching the havoc she wreaks as she takes me into her mouth again and again.

It’s all too much. I’ve waited too long for this moment without ever believing it would happen. And fuck, I’m not going to come in her mouth. Not when she told me plainly that she wants me to give