Page 35 of Sinful Submission

“Aaah!” Her head fell back, and her legs quaked as she rode me while I slammed her against me.

“Shit!” She trembled. “Titan!”

“Give me that orgasm, baby.”

Hot cream slid down my dick, and I came right behind her.

“Oh! - Grrrgggh….”

We moaned, and I held her tight. Santari fell into my chest, our mouths crashed, divulging into hungry kisses.

“I don’t want you to go,” she whispered against my lips.

“And I can’t keep my eyes off you.”

“So you’ll stay?”

I growled. “No. You’re coming with me.”

Traffic was gridlockedon Ocean Avenue, and by the time we reached Primal Luxury Resort, the entranceway was no different.

Inside my Range Rover, Santari sat in the passenger seat, legs crossed in a two-piece bikini top and skirt - driving me wild with her mocha skin on display. Shades sat across her eyes, and her hand rested on my thigh. That slight touch was enough to calm and ignite me simultaneously.

Cars inched forward, and a black Mercedes S-Class was approached by the valet.

“You know, it was sexy as hell watching you burn down warehouse forty-nine.”

I turned my attention to Santari. “So, they did have cameras in the building – like all the others.”

“And they thought they would torment me by watching you fall.” Her lips spread into a sensual smile. “But you had other plans, and I was so proud of you.” She bit her bottom lip, but her red lipstick didn’t taint her white teeth.

“Proud, huh?” I reached over and pinched her chin.

“Proud, aroused, stirred. You awakened something inside me.” She squeezed my thigh. “And before you decide that’s not a good thing, it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“Why is that?”

“Because it’s authentic. Sometimes, violence is needed. Suppressing that for the sake of being a do-gooder is bullshit.”

I cracked a smile and took my gaze back to the Mercedes. “Don’t make my dick hard.”

She gripped my shit through my jeans. “Too late.”

Her laughter made my heart skip a beat, but the sight of a familiar face speaking to the valet made my gut tighten and my jaw clench.

Ron Valentine nodded and smiled at three men in designer suits – semi-younger replicas of him in different shades of brown. The spike in my pulse was usually reserved for two things – violence or pleasure. This feeling, however, was lodged in unfamiliar territory. I felt neither violent nor desire but puzzled, curious, annoyed, and perhaps something else I didn’t want to tussle with – optimistic. The thought of it put a bad taste in my mouth. Fuck Ron and his sons. There was no reason to…

“Lover…”

I blinked and glanced at Santari, who was staring at me quizzically.

“Yes?”

“You went stiff. And not in the way I wanted you to. What’s wrong?” Her brows dipped.

“How exactly did you feel me go stiff?”

“Our souls are mixed. I feel everything you feel.”

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