The God (Bratva Blood #3)- S.R. Jones Page 0,74

on, Cherry Bomb.” I take her wrist and march her to the window.

I yank her panties down roughly and push them to one side when they hit the floor. She’s only in her heels now, and I kick her legs apart. “Put your hands on the glass,” I order her. She does as I say.

I walk back and undress as I admire her. She looks like a porn star. She’s shaved, totally bare, and her pussy is shiny and slick. I decide suddenly I want to taste her. Smiling to myself, I grab the abused lip gloss and kneel behind her. Her wet pussy is right in front of me. I part her folds and apply the lip gloss to her clit. I smear it all over her, and she moans and pushes her flesh into me. I throw the gloss to one side and devour her.

It doesn’t take more than a minute or so before she comes. She grinds her pussy and ass up against me as she cries out and moans, her legs shaking.

I stand, reach for my pocket, and take out a condom. I put it on, then push her against the glass so her flesh is flattened against it. I drive into her from behind, and she screams a strangled yes.

We fuck like animals. We fuck like we’re possessed. At some point, I decide the thrill of having half of London’s office workers getting to see us screw isn’t worth the position where I can’t get as deep as I want. I pull Zoey away from the window and bend her over a desk in the corner. That’s better, I think as I sink balls deep.

Her head is turned to the side, and her face is red and damp with perspiration. “God, yes, Vasily. Please.”

I don’t know what she’s asking for because I’m fucking her as hard as I can. Then I get with the program and reach around, finding her clit and rubbing it as she holds my hand, guiding me and showing me how she likes it.

She comes, and I go over the edge right with her.

When I come down, draped over her, panting and sweating, I’m already wanting more.

We have more too. I screw her in the bed, missionary because I want to see her face as she comes. Then she goes on top the third time, and I fuck her as I drive my middle finger into her ass, and she nearly breaks it as she contracts around it so tight when she comes. It makes me want to fuck her in the ass.

Sadly, for my dick, after the third time, Zoey falls asleep. She’s on her side, snoring softly, and that’s just too endearing. I’m watching her, and I’ve never felt so sated. So … at peace.

I watch her, and then it begins. It’s a faint stirring of something I don’t recognize at first. Then it hits me. It is anxiety. The peace fades as the reason I’m feeling so damn good hits me.

I’ve just had the best, most mind-blowing sex of my life. Sex so good I want to keep on doing it, and with this woman only, until my dick falls off. Sex so good that I want to take my Cherry Bomb, stuff her in the back of my car, and ride off with her into the sunset.

Fuck.

What have I done? I came here to fuck her and get her out of my system, and instead I’ve somehow fucked her into my soul.

As anxiety morphs into something more like panic, I act like the total dick I am.

I get up, get dressed, and creep out of the hotel room, leaving Zoey all alone.

Chapter Twenty-four

Bohdan

Corfu

I watch Dasha sleep, and my heart fills with so much love it hurts. Her mother is moving around downstairs already. I can hear her rattling pots and pans. She’s probably making breakfast. At least the sour old witch can cook.

Her presence here in the house is really pissing me off, and thankfully, she’s started talking about maybe moving back to St. Petersburg. Dasha is encouraging her in this. Last night I overheard her tell her mother she’d be able to afford a beautiful house and show all her old friends how well she’s done for herself.

Dasha will always love her mother. You do always love your parents, I suppose. In a weird, bizarre way, I must still love my dad despite everything because I often want to show him what I’ve made of myself.