Page 70 of Wings of Shadow
For a moment, she hesitates. A flicker of uncertainty. Then it’s gone, replaced by the same fiery resolve. “You don’t want to find out.”
A chuckle rumbles in my chest, dark and humorless. I reach out, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. My fingers linger, brushing against her skin, and I sense the faintest shiver run through her.
“Lovely place you’ve got here,” she says, gaze straying from mine to sweep the room. “It’s a pity it’s so heavily guarded.”
I inch closer, my lips barely grazing the shell of her ear. “A necessity for a man in my line of work.”
She stiffens, her breath catching. I hear the sudden racing of her heart, and it takes every ounce of control not to pull her into my arms, to claim her mouth and show her just how much I want her.
She swallows hard, eyes locked on mine. “Selling guns?”
A thrill of satisfaction runs through me. So she’s been doing her research. Digging into my past. The thought of her taking an interest in me, in what I do, is a heady one, a rush of power and desire that leaves me momentarily breathless.
“It’s perfectly legal,” I lie, fingers grazing her jaw, reveling in the way her breath hitches.
“As legal as your business with narcotics?” she inquires, tone lethal.
I can’t help the smirk that tugs at my lips, the surge of admiration I have for her boldness, her willingness to confront me even in the face of her uncertainty and fear.
But amusement fades as I glimpse determination in her gaze. “Ever since I inherited this clan’s leadership, I’ve strived to diversify our assets. Nightclubs. Restaurants. Even the occasional arms deal… It takes time to shift an empire.”
My hand glides along her waist, and when she stumbles back, I press her gently against the door, my body a solid wall of heat and muscle against her own.
“Now that you know all that I am… tell me, Liebes,” I purr, my lips trailing along the column of her neck, tasting the sweetness of her skin, “why have you come?”
Her pupils dilate, breath shallow.
“Are you here to fight me?” I pause, my mouth hovering a breath away from hers. “Or have you come to fuck me?”
For a heartbeat, neither of us moves. The air between us tightens, charged with something neither of us can name.
Then, in a rush of heat and fury, her lips crash against mine.
The kiss is electric, violent in its intensity. Fingers tangle in my hair, nails scrape against my scalp, and I welcome it—welcome the fire, the collision of our worlds. She tastes of defiance and desperation, of something I never dared to crave, but now cannot live without.
Never breaking contact, I lift her onto the billiard table, her smooth legs wrapping around my waist. My hands roam, memorizing every curve, every gasp, every trembling sigh.
This woman will be the ruin of me…
And gods help me, I won’t stop her.
Her hands slide between us, unfastening the button of my pants with a deft urgency that sets my blood aflame. I suck in a sharp breath as her fingers brush against my length—an unspoken promise of what’s to come. I kick off my shoes, my clothes following in a careless heap. I’m left in my boxers, the fabric straining against my arousal, aching for her.
She’s a goddess, this woman. Alabaster skin glowing in the dim light, sapphire eyes heavy with desire. Her dress slips from her shoulders in a whisper of silk, pooling at her waist before I ease it past her hips, revealing a lace-trimmed set designed to entice and destroy. I trail a single finger over the delicate fabric, teasing the hardened peaks beneath before tugging them just enough to draw a gasp from her lips. She arches, offering herself, and I take my time, savoring every shiver, every breathy moan.
The contrast is intoxicating—the rawness of her need against the elegance of our surroundings. The flickering glow of the hearth, the glint of cut crystal decanters, the silent, ever-watchful eyes of the surveillance cameras that I switch off with a flick of my wrist. For the first time in years, this room is truly private.
It’s like fucking in a cathedral, this mingling of lust and opulence. The billiard table looms behind us, an altar to our depravity. With careful precision, I ease her onto the green baize, the soft cloth cool beneath her bare skin. I grip her wrists, pinning them above her head as I press myself against her core.
“Baby girl,” I growl, my free hand curling around her hip, fingers digging possessively into her skin. “Am I your first?”
Her lashes flutter open just enough for me to glimpse the hunger simmering in her gaze. She bites her lower lip, pearl-white teeth sinking into the plush flesh. “Y-yes,” she gasps, voice trembling but resolute.
I lean in, my breath ghosting over her ear, savoring how she shivers beneath me. “I won’t be gentle,” I warn, my tone a dark promise.
Her response is immediate—her body arches into mine, seeking more, craving the delicious edge of pain tangled with pleasure. “Gods, I hope not,” she moans, the sound reverberating between us, seeping into my skin.
Something in her tone gives me pause. My grip tightens instinctively, my brow knitting as an unspoken question forms on my lips. But before I can voice it, she speaks again.
