Page 137 of Ruin Me With Lies
His lashes flutter, his abs flex, and a curse punches out of his throat.
I suck him until his cock becomes iron-pipe rigid, signaling his imminent implosion.
“Milk me,” he rasps, voice tight and strained.
Wrapping my fingers tightly around him, I pump him tight and fast, wringing his orgasm right to the edge.
Until he explodes with a vicious growl.“FUCK!”
White ropes of warmth spurt out and paints my face.
His orgasm’s hitting him so hard that he rocks forward and grips the sheet on either side of my head to ride it out, his hips jerking involuntarily.His whole body is tense, strung out on the knife’s edge of release.
Yeah, Ilovewatching him come, too.Watching him unravel.Veins prominent, jaw clenched, eyes glazed over with something primal.
He’s erotic art.
I make soft, idle swirls around the head of his cock, petting him, easing him down.
Eventually, he rocks back on his heels and gazes down at me, chest heaving, lips parted.
Slowly, I lick my lips and smile.“Was I right?Does it make you feel better, seeing me like this?Beneath you.Your cum all over my face.”
He just stares at me, eyes dark and stormy.
The silence stretches, nothing but the sound of our mingled breaths in the quiet of the room.
Then, without a word, he drops back on the bed and drapes an arm across his eyes.
Goodness gracious.For a grown-ass criminal, a man who takes lives without blinking, he sure sulks like a toddler.All because I won’t kiss him?Whatever.
I get up and go into the bathroom to freshen up.Afterward, I return with a warm washcloth and clean him up as well.He doesn’t move, arm still draped over his face, ignoring me.
When I’m done, I pull the drapes shut to block out the approaching daylight so he can sleep well.My alarm won’t go off for another hour, so I slip back under the covers.
If Stefano wants to give me the cold shoulder, that’s his prerogative.I’m freshly, thoroughly, and exquisitely fucked.And thanks to his beautiful cock, I’m riding a sweet,sweethigh.
Nothing’sruining this temporary bliss for me.
Stefano Castello is a fickle, capricious man.In a few hours, he might wake up and decide he hates my guts again.Might even want me dead.So I’llbaskin this euphoria while it lasts.
I’m on the brink of dosing off when the heat of his body shifts up behind me.Followed by his arm curving around my waist and molding me snug against him.
With a sigh swollen with surrender, he whispers, “You’re ice, Raya.Ice fucking cold.”He nuzzles into my hair, presses a kiss to my shoulder.“You’re my karma.”
~
IT’S EXACTLY MIDDAYwhen sounds of life from upstairs signal Stefano’s return to consciousness.Sitting cross-legged on the couch in the living area, laptop on my thighs, I gnaw at my bottom lip, unsure what to expect.Which version of him am I getting today?The tender, touch-hungry man who practically worships me?Or the darkly intense enigma who thinks I’m a lying threat and wants me gone?
Shaking off the nerves, I refocus on the task at hand.
When he eventually comes downstairs, there’s no mistaking which Stefano is in play today.His resting mean face is locked in, his energy dark.He doesn’t even glance in my direction as he heads straight to the kitchen.
Yep.He hates me again.
Still…he’s in lounge pants, not one of his full armor three-piece suits.So, maybe he still plans on staying in with me for the weekend?
A few minutes later, coffee in hand, he strides past me without a word and heads out to the pool area.Maybe he just prefers quiet time to himself when he first wakes up.Nothing’s wrong with that.
