Page 105 of Villains Never Die

His mouth popped free from my dick and he raised his head. “You’re going to come with me buried in your ass.”

He crawled back up my body until we were face-to-face and sealed his lips against mine, driving his tongue into my mouth until I moaned. I let go of the sheets I was strangling to thread my fingers through his hair. When I pulled slightly against his scalp, he hissed in pleasure before he pulled away.

He bent one of my legs and rested it over his shoulder, baring me, opening me—taking easy access and promising to slide deep inside of me.

“I learned your little spell,” he said, slipping his lubed fingers over the tight ring of my arsehole. “It’s handy.”

When I jolted with the intrusion of two fingers at once, he kissed the inside of my raised leg and said, “Relax for me, baby.”

He drove his fingers in and out of me slowly, until I loosened and opened for him, and a third finger squeezed into me. He twisted his fingers inside me, making sure I could take the intimidating girth presently lying in the crease of my hip.

“That’s it, give in to me,” he coaxed. His fingers disappeared, and he kissed the bend of my knee as he eased his cock into me, seating himself at a deeper angle than before, until I gasped as he bottomed out.

“There you go,” he said softly. “Still with me, Austin?”

“Always.” Could he tell I meant it? Did he know how seriously I took what he’d said before—that we belonged to each other and I would never rid myself of him. I couldn’t imagine wanting him gone anymore.

“Touch yourself, babe. Show me how good I make you feel. Come all over those pretty nipples for me.”

When he moved, it was slow and teasing, a careless pace that left me aching as my hand glided over my length and drove me to madness.

“Faster,” I pleaded.

“No,” he said. “I don’t want you to come too soon.”

“You’re diabolical,” I groaned. My dick was so eager for release that the head of it flushed and ached.

“It’s no fun if we rush,” he grunted, but his pace increased a little, skimming delicious friction over my prostate that sent tingles through my body. He angled my leg even further, my hips tilting to keep up, doubling my pleasure.

“Fucking…bloody…Rook, I need…” My words turned into a string of incoherent babble, begging and writhing as I tried to decide between coming and holding off a little longer to draw out the satisfaction and please him.

“Fine,” he murmured against my ankle. “Spill all over yourself for me.”

His words catapulted me over the edge and cum squirted across my chest, dousing my nipples and leaking into the space over my sternum that separated my pectoral muscles. Rook reached forward and smeared it all over me.

“I like you best when you’re messy,” he said with a wicked grin. “Shit, I want to fill you.” His chin dropped to his chest and he fucked me harder, our bodies shaking with the force of it, his hips snapping against my arse and filling the room with the loud slapping of his skin against mine.

His pace stuttered. His body seized as he thrust deep, and I felt the satisfying twitch of his cock emptying into me.

“Tell me I’m yours again,” I said when we lay together afterward.

“You are mine,” he growled. “Tell me how to prove it to you.”

My head swam with tequila and that citrus scent that always clung to him. A slow laugh burbled out of me, everything pleasant and fuzzy. “I have a terrible idea.”

I bent to whisper and he chuckled. “That will make you believe me?”

“Too much?”

He climbed off me and picked up his phone from the nightstand. “Get some water and sober up. I know a guy.”

***

Only Rook could book a tattoo artist on short notice at five in the morning.

We were the only people sitting in a tattoo shop ten blocks from Rook’s apartment, where a man with a beard and colorful tattoos of his own had opened the shop for us. It took about half an hour for us to design what we wanted, and then I sat in the chair first.

I winced as the needle pierced the skin of my inner forearm. “I never thought I’d be doing this.”