The God (Bratva Blood #3)- S.R. Jones Page 0,73

the wall, and undo the zipper. It drops to the floor with a soft swoosh of fabric and pools around her ankles. She steps out of it and turns to me. I take in the feast that is her.

Yep, such a contradiction. I was expecting black and maybe lace when it came to her underwear. Instead, she’s wearing a baby pink camisole with matching panties. I reach out and touch it and realize it’s real silk. You can always tell the real stuff.

This I will rip from her body, I decide. She can walk home in just the dress. I take the camisole in my hands, look right into her pale blue eyes, and tear it from her. She smiles, and it is dark and filled with satisfaction.

“How rough do you want it?” I ask.

“Rough.”

“How rough?”

“Enough to leave bruises. Not enough to do lasting damage.”

My cock is so hard it’s going to burst. Fuck me. God invented my perfect woman, named her Zoey, and put her on this earth living in London. Why can’t she be in Moscow?

Then again, the way this is going, it’s a good thing she doesn’t. We’d probably end up in some sort of fucked up, messed up, destructive relationship, and right now, I’ve got to focus one hundred percent on building up what K gave me.

I’ll fuck her and get her out of my system.

She drops to her knees and undoes my belt. When she looks up at me and licks those smeared, hot-pink lips, I swallow hard. Undoing my zipper, she takes me out, sliding her hand down the length of me.

I’m well endowed. Enough that with one girlfriend it was a bit of an issue. She only liked it from certain angles as she said it hurt. Zoey doesn’t look worried though; she looks greedy.

As she licks at the tip of me, her hands cup my balls and squeeze. Soon, she’s sucking down half my dick, using her hand to work the other half, and fondling my balls. Jesus Christ.

I pull her to her feet and undress. As I do, I stare at her perky tits, the pink nipples all hard.

“You got that lip gloss you’re wearing on you?” I ask her.

She nods once, turns to her bag that she threw on the dresser, opens it and takes a tube out. I take it from her and push some of the gloopy liquid to the tip of the tube. Then I smear it all over her lips again. She smacks them together and stares at me as she pouts. Her eyes widen when I do the same thing again to each nipple.

Now she has gloopy lip gloss on each hard nub, and I rub it in, smoothing it over her areolas too.

I stand back and admire her. The front of her silky panties is damp, and the patch is spreading.

“You look like a filthy fucking wet dream come to life,” I tell her. Shit, when did I start sounding like K with the gravelly voice? I clear my throat and step to her. Then I bend my head and take one nipple in my mouth, tasting the cherry flavor.

I suck her left tit hard, as I palm the other one before I swap sides.

“You like my lip gloss,” she observes.

“Tastes of cherries,” I say.

She licks her lips and smiles. “I suppose it does. I hadn’t really noticed.”

She kneels again, takes the tube, and smears the red gloss all over the end of my dick. It pulses, and a clear bead of pre-cum weeps from my slit.

Zoey bends her head and takes me into her mouth again, sucking me deep and hard. She lifts her head and smirks. “Cherries and salt, nice taste. They ought to make it a cocktail and call it Cherry Dick.”

Fuck me, if I weren’t where I am in life, I think I’d book us on a flight to Vegas and marry her right now. Instead, I grab her hair in my fist and force her back down on my cock, pushing in deep. She gags, but she doesn’t pull away. I thrust into her mouth, fucking it, fucking her, and I only stop when I’m about to come.

She straightens her spine as she looks at me and wipes her mouth and then her streaming eyes.

Like this, with her red-stained nipples, smeared lips, and messy eyes, she’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

I glance to my side and see the huge picture window with London spread out beyond. “Come