Deceitful Vows (Marital Privileges #2)

7. Andrik

7

ANDRIK

S weet. Fucking. Damnation.

One glance seared my soul, but one brush of a pair of pouty lips seals my fate.

Zoya Galdean is going to ruin me.

No ifs.

No buts.

She will ruin me, but I refuse to withdraw.

Honey lips, pert tits, and a heat I’m so impatient to have wrapped around me I don’t think about my little brother and how he only ever hands his keys to the girls he truly likes, or the deal with the devil I initiated today that should have my cock withering away instead of knocking at my zipper, vying to get free.

I don’t think about anything but the number of moans I can entice out of Zoya with a sloppy, messy kiss and how far she will let me take this now that she’s had a taste of what I can offer her.

When I pull her body flush against mine, she moans, as impatient as me and just as ready.

It isn’t solely the scent I smell shadowing her panties announcing this. The wetness that coats my fingers when I slip my hand under her skirt and rub my fingertips over the sensitive flesh between her legs is also telling.

“Fuck, милая . Is all this wetness for me?”

I don’t wait for her to answer me.

She’d only lie, and then I’d have to punish her.

I’d rather have her limp with sexual exhaustion than a tanned ass, so I inch her off the handrail hindering the natural roll of her hips, and then slowly slip a finger inside her.

“Tight. So fucking tight.”

My thumb circles her clit, once again stealing her rebuttal.

“Don’t be ashamed. The tighter you are, the fewer men I’ll have to track down once I’ve had my fill.”

She watches me with hooded, dilated eyes as I slowly pump in and out of her. I don’t do gentle. Lovemaking isn’t my specialty, though the flare of Zoya’s nostrils when I treat her with a delicacy she was certain I didn’t hold has me in no hurry to mix things up.

I take my time, loving how her cunt sucks at my finger as freely as her delicious scent lingers in my nostrils.

“How many men am I seeking, милая ?”

I slant my head to hide my smile when she says with a moan, “None.”

Lying to me is usually punishable by death.

She won’t face the same level of wrath—purely because I know she is lying for me, not the insolent fools who let her go. She’s afraid my jealousy will have me pulling on the reins, stopping a train God himself couldn’t slow.

She has no reason to fret.

Even as I was placing the pieces on the chessboard for a verified win, she didn’t leave my mind for a second. I palmed my cock as often today as I did the first time I visited a strip club.

I was eleven during my inaugural visit to my uncle’s club, so I had the perfect excuse for my dick popping up to say hello.

Today, I had no damn excuse.

And the remembrance pisses me off so much I get arrogant.

“One?”

I watch Zoya like my palm isn’t coated with her juices, and her moans don’t have me on the cusp of coming in my pants like a soft cock who has never sampled an untouched cunt.

When her face gives nothing away, I say, “Two?”

She doesn’t twitch, glower, or flinch.

She just moans.

“Three? Are there three notches on your bedpost, милая ?”

I finger fuck her harder when a flare darts through her eyes. It isn’t a confirming glint, more a flicker announcing I’m getting close to her body count.

“Four?”

Her eyes snap to mine so fast I get the answer I’m seeking without a word spilling from her lips.

She looks embarrassed. It better be because she’s worried I’ll think her count is too high and not because she’s ashamed of the low figure she amassed in the prior decade or so.

I won’t handle the latter.

Jealousy has never been an issue of mine. That could be more because virgins were always my top pick.

I never had an interest in another man’s leftovers.

I can’t say the same now.

I’ll still seek names. It just won’t be until I’ve finished making Zoya scream mine.

I don’t bother hiding my smile when Zoya strives to keep things even between us. “What about you? What’s your count?”

“Does it matter?” I ask while swiping my thumb over her clit.

“Y-yes,” she stammers out, her breathing picking up. “If you know mine, it’s only fair I know yours.”

“There you go with that if again, милая .”

The wetness of her arousal almost drowns out her groan when I work her harder, faster. I toy with her clit until I can add a second finger to the mix without hurting her. Then I return my attention to our conversation.

“If is an uncertainty, a doubt.”

When her back rests on the wall of the elevator as she struggles to fill her lungs with air, I tilt her hips higher, opening her up to me.

“It doesn’t belong between us. This”—I palm my cock, which is throbbing with so much want a circle of wetness is just left of the tip—“this is the only thing between us, and not even it is an uncertainty.” She whimpers desperately when I growl out, “You will take my cock. Every. Hardened. Inch.” Then she shudders when my lips brush the shell of her ear. “And then you’ll thank me for the orgasms that rip through your body by giving me the name of the Долбоеб who did you so wrong you thought abstinence was your only option.” We moan in sync when her pussy clenches around my fingers. “He’s the only one I won’t take my time with. Because if it weren’t for him, my kill count for one night may have notched higher than my one-night body count.”

Zoya’s cheeks burn with embarrassment, brighter and stronger than before.

Or is it jealousy?

We skipped official introductions, so I haven’t paid enough attention to her quirks to be able to decipher them just yet. My sole focus has been on concealing my jealousy.

Since I’ve done a shit fucking job, I stop beating around the bush and get to the point.

“Four is manageable, милая . I can deal with four.” I lean into her so closely her nipples scrape my chest with every breath she takes. “Six?” My tsk rumbles through both our chests before it vibrates my lips. “Don’t test me on six because I can guarantee neither you nor him will survive the outcome.”