Page 17 of Vicious Secrets
It’s not the reaction I expect from him. He looks sincerely amused and not offended.
“We didn’t use a condom last night.”
I hold back my surprise. Why is he bringing this up now?
“I’m on birth control.”
Siro pushes off the frame, his hands coming out of his pockets as he approaches me with a feral look in his eyes. I yelp when he grabs my hips and lifts me to sit on top of the island of cabinets that split the two sides of the closet. He drops to his knees before me and peers up from behind his thick lashes. The sight of him kneeling before me sends a thrill down my spine that makes my toes curl.
My pulse throbs behind my clit as I spread my legs for him. He presses his face against my inner thigh, kissing his way toward my pussy as he pushes back my skirt. Boy, am I happy I didn’t wear jeans today.
My fingers twitch and curl on the wood countertop. I want to grab a fistful of his hair and shove his face against me. Hold him there until he taps out or makes me cum, whichever happens first.
I break away from the intoxicating sight of a viciously powerful man bowing for me by leaning back on my elbows and staring at the ceiling. He nuzzles his nose on my mons, inhaling sharply. His fingers loop in the band of my underwear.
“You stopped shivering,” he says against me.
Did I? I don’t remember shivering in the first place.
“Why did you stop watching me?” Siro asks as he pulls away.
I swallow around a lump in my throat as he slides off my panties and tosses them aside. I indulge him, sitting up to watch him. But impatience builds along with my lust. Reaching down, I snarl my fingers in his thick hair and shove Siro’s face against my cunt. We groan in unison as he laps his tongue between my labia. His eyes close as he leans into me.
“Look at me while you eat.”
Siro’s eyes snap open. There isn’t a hint of the monster I’ve heard of behind those brown irises. He’s in heaven, blissed out of his mind from eating me out. He laps at me from the entrance to clit, all while looking up at me. From this angle, I can see his pale pink tongue lapping between my brownish-pink labia.
My legs quiver. My head wants to loll back, but I can’t look away. He sucks my clit into his mouth, his jaw moving with his tongue as he flicks the bundle of nerves. His spit and my arousal roll down my ass.
I can’t fight myself any longer. My eyes roll back as he works me closer and closer to an orgasm.
Siro moans and sucks harder, changing the pattern of his licks. His hands dance up my legs to hold them open. I look down to see him still staring at me. The lower half of his face glistens from our combined wetness. Fuck, he looks amazing under me. All that hard muscle tense with lust, his expression soft for me, and needy sounds escaping his throat.
“Harder, Siro.”
He crashes his face against my pussy, sucking me near the point of pain, and pushes two fingers inside me. I cry out and trap him in place with my hand. He growls and fights back against the hand on the back of his head.
My toes curl as my orgasm slams into me. Stars burst before my eyes as I fall backward. My head hits something soft, and I don’t know what it is. I can’t comprehend anything except the uncontrollable jerks of my limbs and the contractions of my pussy around… nothing.
What’s behind my head becomes obvious as control of my limbs returns to me. Siro’s cradling my skull, looming over me and watching me twitch helplessly.
“Fuck me,” I croak.
He lowers my head and moves out of sight. Leather creaks, metal clangs, and a zipper unzips. A second later, the head of his cock rubs between my labia. He pushes into me, slowly sheathing himself as his hands grip my hips. Our hips colliding make an audibly wet sound. His hands move to my shoulders, stopping me from sliding across the surface as he fucks me. He doesn’t have to lean forward to hold them. For whatever reason, I adore how small I feel under him.
I bite my lip and tilt my head back as he pounds into me with brutal thrusts.
“Yes, fuck me hard,” I groan and grab his wrists, needing something to hold on to.
Siro growls and yanks me upright. My eyes fly open, and my nails dig into his skin. Siro glares at me, his skin flushing and his muscles tensing to the point his veins pop. The plain-as-day anger frazzles my brain, and my body gets all of the wrong messages. I grow wetter.
Looking between us, I see an obvious and embarrassingly large wet patch on his pants. If Siro were naked, my arousal would be all over his thighs.
Siro follows my line of sight and stops. Something shifts behind his eyes as his gaze turns unfocused. The wrists under my hands flutter and shake like he’s overworking the muscles. His pants of exertion quickly morph into hyperventilation.
“Siro?” I say quietly and rub my hands up his forearms.
My palms contact his skin for less than a few seconds before he yanks his arms away, pulls out of me, and stumbles back against the cabinets. That brief touch tells me everything and nothing all at once. He has a bone-deep tremor and a fever damn near worthy of the flu.
