Page 94 of Brutal Vows
Arching my back, I suck in a breath. My eyes widen. He crooks his fingers and hits a sensitive spot inside me, rubbingagainst it with maddening slowness, intently watching every expression that crosses my face.
I can’t look away from him. I want to, but I can’t.
Somehow, he’s got me trapped in the weight of his powerful gaze. A fly caught in amber.
A desperate little insect snared in a hungry spider’s web.
And for all my pride and independence, for all the times I swore I’d never allow myself to be owned again, I find it impossible not to give him what he’s demanding.
Staring into his eyes and breathing hard, I whisper, “Yes. All of it. I want you to fuck me. I want you to kiss me everywhere. I want your hands and your mouth and every other part of you, and I honestly despise myself for wanting it, but I do. So please make me come now. I’ll get back to hating us both after.”
“You said you downgraded the hate to dislike.”
“That was before I married you. Now, all bets are off.”
When he grins, his smile victorious, I snap, “But no spanking. If you ever try to hit me, I’ll consider it a declaration of war, and that will be the end of you!”
He growls, “Fuck, it’s hot when you threaten to kill me.”
Then he crushes his mouth to mine and ravages it as he works his fingers in and out of me, thrusting them deep, moaning into my mouth when I spread my legs wider.
When I come, it’s with fireworks behind my eyelids and a full-body jerk that makes one of my shoes go flying. Quinn swallows my moan, humming his approval into my mouth and holding me against him, a Popsicle viper impaled on his huge hand.
I convulse and clench around his fingers until finally, I collapse backward, shaking and spent. He holds me up with that one strong arm around my back, slips his fingers out of me, and slides them into his mouth.
As I watch in dizzy, breathless astonishment, he lazily licks his slick fingers dry, savoring my taste.
Watching me with hooded eyes, he growls, “That’s my good girl.”
And oh, what that does to me. The golden shimmer of happiness that floods my cells. It’s ridiculous how soft and melting I become, as pliant as a green blade of grass under the spring sun.
But I’m not a blade of grass.
I’m a blade. Period.
I’m a strong, capable, grown-ass woman who intimidates Mafia men so much, they can’t even look me in the eye.
My voice shaking with emotion, I say, “I’m not good and I’m not a girl. I’m not yours, either.”
Chuckling softly, he presses a gentle kiss to my lips. “I’ll concede the first two. But you’re definitely mine.”
Just for an added little fuck-you to make his point, he drawls, “Mrs. Quinn.”
That right there tells me all I need to know about how this marriage is going to work.
I never knew before this moment that enemies with benefits is an actual thing.
TWENTY-TWO
SPIDER
I’m glad the hotel is close to the church, because with every mile we drive and minute that passes, Reyna gets closer to a full-blown freak out.
She wants to crawl off my lap, but I haven’t let her. Instead, I hold her firmly in place as she hyperventilates and looks around wildly like a caged animal desperate for a way out.
There’s no way out for her, though. I’m taking this till-death-do-us-part thing very fucking seriously.
Which means she’ll have to kill me to get away.
