Page 160 of Black Castle

Her fingers tighten around his shoulder, her free hand tangling in the sheet as pleasure coils tight in her stomach. She’s at the edge now, burning, teetering. She is falling apart around him.

And then he pulls away.

“No, please,” she whimpers, shaking her head, eyes glassy and filled with need. He smirks.

“Don’t worry, ladybird,” he murmurs, positioning his cock between her thighs. “Remember I said we’ll be doing this all night? I’m just getting started here.”

He fists himself in his large palm, the thick and throbbing head of his cock dragging through her slick folds, coating himself in her arousal.

“Ready?”

She doesn’t get a chance to work up a reply as he thrusts in, slow, deep, stretching her out inch by inch because no matter how many times he fucks her pussy, she can never truly take him at a go. He is so big and she is so fucking tight.

She feels every ridge and every pulse, a loud moan tearing from her lips as she claws at his back, her nails dragging against the flesh, her heels digging into his toned ass.

Zev let out a shuddered breath, his fingers flexing around her throat, forehead pressed against hers. “Fuck, still perfect. Just the way I left you.”

He pulls out, only for a moment before he slams back into her, harder than the last thrust, sending a wave of pleasure crashing through her.

His pace is slow but deliberate, each thrust designed to make her feel every inch of him, to remember how much she loves to have him inside her no matter how much she tries to disagree, drawing out every little gasp and moan she tries to swallow.

“Now, tell me,” he murmurs against her lips, his dark voice a mixture of command and plea. “Tell me you miss this. Tell me you miss my cock tearing through your tight pussy like this. Tell me you love me throbbing inside you, owning your fucking pussy.”

Vivienne clenches around his silky length, her body answering before her lips can.

“Fucking say it!” he growls, his thrust punctuating his words, deep and devastating.

“I—” she swallows hard, her pride warring with a need she can’t curb, not when she is so full of him, not when she can feel him throbbing inside her, just the way she likes it. But when he angles his hip just right, hitting that spot that always makes her toe curl, she shatters around him. “Fuck, I missed it.”

His lips curl, his groan satisfactory. “Good.”

Then he picks up pace, fucking her like an animal starved—raw, and hard—leaving her teetering on the edge. He fucks her as though he is determined to make up for all the days they spent apart. And she lets him, let him use her the way he pleases

She lets him ruin her for every other man.

And as the pleasure builds, sharp and unbearable, she realizes it. She might hate him, despise him for taking her away, locking her up here, and for all the terrible things he has done, but she is addicted to him. Addicted to his fucked up self, his depraved mind, and his cock.

Chapter Fifty

The Omniscient

A low hum crackles over the line, distorted for the first few seconds before the voice cuts through, smooth, deeply accented, and controlled.

“How have you been holding up?”

The man on the other end of the line exhales sharply, tension woven into his breath. He’s sitting on a chair in a dimly lit room, a glass of vodka half empty beside him, and a cigarette nearly burnt-out latched between his fingers.

“It’s been a nightmare,” he admits, his voice intentionally low. “He’s been restless, of course. You know, running himself into the ground just to keep things from crumbling. He’s been making numerous calls, reaching out to allies, traveling across countries just to reinforce his standing.” He takes a long drag of his cigarette, his eyes narrowed as he sniffles. “He knows the ledger isn’t just gone. It’s a threat. If it ends up in the wrong hands, which of course, it currently is, he’s done for.”

A soft, satisfactory chuckle drifts through the receiver. “And in all this chaos, the bastard still had time to pursue matrimony?” It’s more of a rhetorical question, so the man at the other end doesn’t reply. “Anyway, let him continue to run. Let him break his back while doing so. His power is already slipping through his fingers.”

The mole swallows hard. “He has been tightening security though. You know he’s a psychopath from the very beginning. Killing at whim. Now anyone who breathes wrong around him gets a bullet to the head or a dagger to the throat. He doesn’t trust anyone anymore. And his violence has gotten worse ever since Abbey Markov showed up without the ledger and without a confession.” The mole’s voice lowers as he glances around, even though he knows no one is even a mile close to where he currently is. “And I think he knows there’s someone else. Using Abbey Makov as bait didn’t divert his attention from the inner circle. He’s a smart man. He knows Abbey isn’t the only one. There’s someone else within his Bratva.”

“If he hasn’t found you, then he isn’t as smart as you give him credit for, Soldier.” The man’s voice is smooth, pleased, even. “You’ve done well. Keep doing what you have been doing. Help him look for the ledger. Feed his paranoia. Make him continue to chase his own tail. This ledger has come second to our weapon now. We’ve found a faster and ultimate weapon to end him without a trace, remember?”

At the last comment, the mole nods in recognition, a knowing smile lifting the corners of his lips. “Yes.”

“Tell me about her,” the man says. “How has her matrimony been treating her? And our little note? Any reaction yet?”

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