Ruthless Vow (Vegas Vicious #2)

10. Leo

10

Leo

Nicole is my captive, my prisoner. My plaything.

I spent years failing to notice her, a lapse I have now remedied. Ever since that morning on the yacht, I not only notice her, I can’t stop thinking about her.

But is started even earlier than that, it started the night she watched me fuck another woman’s mouth. The way she looked at me… I wanted to fuck her mouth.

She arranged an attack on my yacht, held a gun on me, threatened my life. I noticed her then, seeing her as if for the first time. Not the ugly clothes and unflattering hairstyle. I saw her . My wolf. And I wanted to fuck her. Fuck her mouth, her cunt, her ass. Make her submit to me.

When I had her cuffed and hanging from the chain, glaring at me, too stubborn to give in to her fear, I wanted to fuck her. Make her want me. Make her want to submit to me.

When she dragged my gun from my waistband just now, ruthless, it made me want to fuck her. My cock is harder than stone.

I see her now. Nicole is not timid and shy, scared of her own shadow. She is fire on a frigid night. She is lit dynamite in a dark cave. She is dangerous, and I crave her.

And that confuses me, because I have never craved anyone. Ever.

Then again, no woman has pulled a gun on me before.

But Nicole did, not once, but twice. Maybe that’s the appeal.

It isn’t just about fucking her. I want to understand her, to know her, to take her apart, study every puzzle piece, and put her back together while she screams my name. I want her obsessed with me.

I want to be her need, her craving. I want to consume her.

As she consumes me.

In this moment, I admit what I have suspected since the morning she first held a gun on me.

Nicole Milano is mine.

She moans my name as I lift my mouth from hers. Her cheeks are flushed red, her eyelids heavy, her lips swollen.

I rub the pad of my thumb across her lower lip, watching her lust-dazed expression.

I work the buttons of her shirt, an ugly fuchsia thing whose only positive attribute is the fact that it’s short enough to reveal her tights-encased legs and high, round ass. She should be draped in designer silk. Or better still, naked.

She tangles her fingers in my hair and arches against me as I press my mouth to hers, pushing my tongue past her lips, tasting, teasing.

Once the shirt is off, I unhook her bra. Her breasts are high and small, a perfect handful. I shove down her leggings, her panties, and she is naked beneath me. Her body is perfection, athletic, a runner’s body.

The hideous, shapeless dresses she used to wear hid true beauty.

“Perfection,” I murmur against her lips, the hard ridge of my cock pressing against her naked thigh through the cloth of my pants.

She mewls as I lightly brush first one nipple then the other.

“You watched me,” I say, thinking back to the surge of lust that snared me when she watched me fuck another woman’s mouth through the open doorway of my office. I’d wanted to push her to her knees and push my cock into her mouth. “Did you like what you saw?”

When she says nothing, I stroke her nipple, then pinch it. She gasps.

“Yes,” she whispers, her voice dark and raw.

“You know how I like this,” I say, imagining her on her knees, begging, her ass red from the sting of my palm, her cunt wet and her body plaint, mine to use as I see fit.

She hesitates, then whispers, “Yes.”

“Tell me what I like,” I order, because I need to confirm that she understands, that she wants what I want.

“You like it rough. You like to be in control. You like it when your partner submits to you,” she whispers, breathless, lust lacing every syllable.

Her words coil through my gut, straight to my cock.

“I do,” I say. “Is that what you want, little wolf?”

“Yes,” she whispers again, reaching for my cock.

I close my fingers around her wrist, stopping her.

“You don’t get to touch me until I give you permission,” I say.

Roughly, I roll her face down, pinning the small of her back with my knee. I knead her ass, the backs of her thighs, letting my fingers slip between her legs to graze her clit. She writhes and squirms, trying to increase the pressure. I remove my hand with a low laugh.

I pull her to her knees, snaring both her wrists and anchoring them at the base of her spine as I position her so she sits on her heels, the backs of her thighs resting against her calves. I hold her pinned in front of me, her knees splayed, her back against my chest as I force her to arch, making her breasts jut forward.

“Mine to enjoy as I please,” I say against her ear.

She shivers as I play with her breasts, squeezing them, plumping them, rolling her nipples between my thumb and forefinger. Pinching. Pulling.

She squirms and gasps, small whimpers of need sliding from between her lips.

I drag my fingers along her ribs, down her belly, sliding them to her cunt.

She cries out as I push two fingers deep inside her, twisting them in her tight, wet heat. I smear her wetness over her swollen clit, then thrust my fingers back inside.

I am not gentle. I ravage her as I hold her pinned, my cock throbbing as I demand her surrender.

I take my time, working her to a fever pitch, holding her there. Her hips pump, my cock pressing against the round curve of her ass, so hard it feels like it’s going to burst.

The sounds she makes…

The way her body responds to my touch…

I play with her, edging her close to release, then pulling her back. Again and again. Her head thrashes from side to side. Her body strains into my touch as I tug and stroke and pinch.

“Oh, please, Leo, please, please…” she begs, the words running together.

“Please what?” I ask, darkly satisfied by the sound of my name on her lips, by the sound of her begging for release. “Do you want to come?”

“Yes, please…” The desperate whisper twists my need even tighter.

I catch her clit between my index and middle fingers, squeezing hard as I slide them forward and back. Faster. Faster.

She wails, head thrown back, hips shifting as she seeks release. Her pleasure is mine to command.

“Come for me, little wolf,” I order, a warped swell of satisfaction coiling through me as her body tightens and jerks, as she trembles and screams my name.

I hold her there on the knife’s edge of her orgasm, pressing against her clit, forcing wave after wave of release on her.

Her whole body trembles and shakes, her head thrown back, her lips parted as she cries out again and again.

Finally, I let go of her wrists and guide her down onto the bed, straightening her legs, rolling her to her side. She trembles still, her whole body shuddering in the aftermath of her climax.

“Good girl,” I murmur, as I pull the comforter over her.

Her cheeks are flushed, a warm glow suffusing the skin of her face and neck. Her eyes flutter open, her gaze unfocused, dreamy.

For an instant, I want to touch her with a gentle hand, to stroke her hair back from her cheek, to kiss her swollen lips in a way that doesn’t claim and bruise.

Then her focus sharpens and she stares at me where I loom over her.

“Did you like that?” I ask. I know she did, but I need her to confirm it.

She doesn’t answer for moments. Moments that feel like hours.

And then, “Yes,” she says so quietly I can barely hear her. “Yes, I liked it.”

The way she looks at me reaches inside and twists me in knots. She’s looking at me like I hung the fucking moon. Like there is something more here than her cunt and ass and tits. Like there is something more here than her submission to my will.

And maybe… Maybe there is.

No. I am not that man.

I cannot be that man.

Especially not with a woman who betrayed me.

With a snarl, I push to my feet, grab my jacket, the laptop, and my empty gun and get the fuck out of that room.