I tried to move it away to do it myself.
Grunting, he swatted my ass, got a good grip, and tugged it down.
My gown fell to my feet.
I panted. “Put the sling back on.”
“Fuck the sling.” He drank in my nude body. My nipples stiffened.
“I want you to heal.” I caught my breath. “You don’t get to taste anything if—”
Frowning, he stomped over to where he’d thrown it, grabbed the sling, and put it back on. “Devilish siren.”
“Ridiculously bad patient.” I raised my hands to my head and let down my hair. Black waves fell around my shoulders and down close to my hips.
He whispered, “When I was gone, you touched yourself.”
It was a clear statement. No question or doubt.
Did he see when I did it? Was he watching me on camera the whole time?
“What were you thinking about?” he asked.
Nervous, I strolled over to him, keeping my eyes on his face. “Let me show you.”
When I reached him, I lowered myself to my knees. The heels made it difficult, but my only focus was Jean-Pierre. He gazed down at me and ran his fingers through my hair. “Three months.”
“I wouldn’t last three months, Jean-Pierre.” I unzipped his pants, wrenched his boxer briefs down, and freed that fat cock. “Not the way you want me to last.”
He touched my chin and lifted my view to his. “I’ll have your attention.”
“I would give you more than you wanted.”
“It wouldn’t be possible to give me too much of your attention.”
“Are you sure?” Feeling wicked, I stroked the length of his cock. He shuddered under me. I kissed the mushroomed tip. It jerked against my lips. I lapped out and traced my tongue around the rim.
A dark groan left him. He gripped the back of my head hard.
“Mmmm,” I moaned.
“Fuck, Eden. Get up. I won’t be gentle with your mouth. I’m losing control.”
“Lose it.” I licked that long length.
“Je perds tout avec toi.” Toying with my breasts, he tenderly squeezed those aching points. I let out helpless moans.
Unable to help myself, I put his cock in my mouth, closed my eyes, and sucked him in deeper. And I found a sensual rhythm. Anytime he grunted, I moved faster, made my mouth wetter, and tongue slicker. The sounds of my blowjob rose in the space.
French sputtered out of his lips as he grunted with each movement. His grip tightened on the back of my head, but he didn’t guide me onto him. It was more like he held on for dear life. I couldn’t resist trying to swallow him down my throat. Get his cock in. Balls deep. Make him come all over me.
“Oh mon amour. Mon coeur. Ma reine. Mon tout. Ne t’arrête pas.”
Even though I couldn’t capture everything he said, his French made me crazy. A rush of desire sparked low in my belly, coming from the very heart of me. Coiling. Whipping. Spreading and blazing like a forest fire.
“Damn you,” he growled. “I’m already so close to coming.”
“Put it all over me.”
“Oh, Eden.” He grunted, bucking his hips into my mouth.
Someone knocked.
Neither of us answered.
All I could focus on was that massive cock, jutting in and out of my mouth with the force of a man that owned the world. Injured or not, he had command of me. My body. My attention. My heart. Even my mouth.
He dominated me as I kneeled on the floor. “Sirène.”
Hot semen hit the back of my throat. I groaned and lifted my mouth as more spilled out. He shuddered uncontrollably under me.
And then I knew, that it wasn’t him dominating me.
I had control of him.
“Eden,” he moaned.
I swallowed down some of the hot liquid spurting from his cock.
He yanked it out.
More spilled from the tip.
I lapped at it.
He lifted me up with both hands. The sling was gone again. But I could barely focus as he picked me up, pressed my back against the glass, and fucked me until the sun rose over Paris.
Chapter 29
The Lion and the Butcher
Three months ago
Jean-Pierre
For three years, Celina and I battled the other.
After that day when Celina kicked us out of America, Rafael and I had gone to Moscow and knocked several Bratva faction leaders out.
No one understood why we’d done it, especially the Russians.
What everyone knew was that the Corsican and Bratva were at war.
Three years went by.
Bodies piled.
Russia, France, the FBI, and Interpol jumped on high alert.
Louis had bought new agents on all sides. We’d discovered several agencies monitored the situation.
I had photos of FBI walls littered with pictures of Kazimir and me.
The Lion and The Butcher.
On the organization’s boards our pictures headed two different empires made of other pictures of our men that were taped up into the shapes of big pyramids. Red string were taped to one picture and linked to another. Little by little, these agencies attempted to piece together the origin of our war.