Cold Hearted Bastard (Underworld Kings)

I felt him push my shirt up and didn’t stop him. I wouldn’t stop him for the life of me. The cool air moved over my bare ass, and when he leaned back and moaned at the fact that I wore no panties, I felt a gush of wetness slip between my thighs. Could he see how soaked my pussy was?

“Jesus Christ, Galina.” More long seconds passed where he didn’t move, but I could feel his gaze on me, could feel him tracing the lines and curves of my ass with his eyes as if he was memorizing them.

I glanced over my shoulder and saw his gaze slide to the small hummingbird tattoo I had on my hip, a tiny thing with its wings spread out and its back arched. Arlo reached out to smooth a thick, calloused finger along the ink.

“Hummingbirds can flash their colors but hide them as well,” I said softly, this hitch in my throat. I didn’t know why I felt the need to tell Arlo that, but the words spilled from me before I’d had time to stop them.

I connected with the small bird that had a pulse of twelve hundred beats a minute, a tiny thing that was still mighty, that could hide but be seen… fast and smart. I liked to compare myself to such a creature, one complex even if on the outside it appeared fragile.

My body shook as Arlo slid his finger along my skin before dropping his hand back to his side. His gaze, so dark and penetrating, had all thoughts leaving me aside from the wicked things I wanted him to do to me.

“More,” he said in a voice so low it was almost menacingly.

I took in a shuddering breath and did what he said, spreading my legs an inch more, wanting him to look at my inner thighs, to see how they were glossy because I was drenched.

He let out a low hum of approval that sounded almost evil. It made me hotter. “Do you like taunting me, teasing me?”

I knew it wasn’t a real question, not the way he phrased it. He curled a hand against one bare ass cheek, his blunt nails scraping over the flesh until I gasped from the sensation.

I reached out farther to the edge of the counter, curling my fingers around the hard stone, bracing, giving myself leverage and purchase. I rose up on my toes to offer myself more to him, my entire chest flush with the counter, my toes barely on the floor now. I gave him a silent invitation.

“Do you want me to lose control, moy svet? Do you want a gentleman or a fucking monster fucking you for the first time?” His words were gasoline on the inferno inside me. I wanted it, however he gave it to me.

“I want the real you.” I glanced over my shoulder so I could look into his eyes. I knew what I wanted. I knew how he wanted to give it to me. I didn't care about the pain. I wanted it. “I want the monster.”

His eyes became hooded, his lips peeling back from his teeth in a feral display of alpha aggression and pure lust. Without taking his gaze off me, he smoothed a big palm over my ass, his hand so large I felt tiny beneath him, a little doll for this Russian beast.

“Spread wider. Let me see this little cunt so wet and ready to take my cock.” He gripped the other side of my ass, spreading my cheeks at the same time I widened my stance. I could feel the cold air along my heated pussy and had no doubt he could see my slit.

“So fucking juicy, pink, and swollen.” His words were low, and I could tell they were spoken to himself. “Tell me who this belongs to.” He emphasized what he meant by slapping my ass, not hard enough to hurt but firm enough there was a dark promise of what was to come. “Fucking tell me.”

“You,” I said breathlessly, far too softly for him to hear clearly, I knew.

“Fucking say it louder.” He gave my ass a harder swat this time, and I moaned through the sting.

“You, Arlo.”

He hummed in approval and soothed the sting away by running his palm in slow circles over my ass. “That’s right. I fucking own this ass.” He moved his hand closer and closer to the part of my body that ached the most. My clit throbbed in time with my pulse, my inner muscles clenched for something substantial only Arlo could give me, and my legs were shaking from the adrenaline moving through my veins.

The need to feel his big, callused fingers sliding between my lips, teasing the bundle of nerves at the apex of my thighs, to cup my cunt in his masculine hand, was so strong, so fierce I nearly begged him with tears streaming down my cheeks.