Midnight Lies (Tasarov Bratva 2)

“Boo,” he hisses, giving me a thumbs down. “Becoming don has made you a stiff.”

I elbow him in the side, hard, and he grunts and laughs, stumbling away from me and back into the crowd. “Fine. I won’t trash the place. Now, get out of here, old man. Go see your family.”

Stefan is three-quarters drunk already, so I let all his ribbing slide. I’ll get him back tomorrow when he’s nursing his hangover. We’ll see who feels like an old man then.

The bartender slides another finger of scotch my way. I thank him and take it with me over to the booth.

“How’s the food?” I ask, sliding into the bench next to Emery. I glance down past her heap of nacho fries and see a yellow stain on her shirt. “So good you’re saving it for later, I see.”

She rolls her eyes. “Ha ha freaking ha,” she says, not at all amused. “Let’s all make fun of the injured, hungry, pregnant woman.”

I snap my gaze to Isabella to see if she heard, but her eyes are still locked on the kids next to us. They’re practicing flicking beer bottle caps at each other.

“Go on over there, princess,” I urge, nudging her wheelchair with my foot. “Go play with them.”

She chews her lip nervously for a few more seconds, but a little encouragement must have been all she needed because she reverses away from the table and spins towards the kids.

“Wow,” Emery breathes. “I’ve been telling her to go over there for the last hour and she wouldn’t. But one word from you and—”

I lean in close. Emery’s voice trails off.

“No one knows about the pregnancy,” I growl. “I’d like to keep it that way.”

“No one heard me,” she protests, trying to lean away.

I follow her, not giving her an inch. “And you’re not going to give them another chance.”

She looks like she is going to argue for a minute. Then she sighs. “Yeah, I know. You’re right. I’m just tired… and hungry. I wasn’t thinking.”

She grabs her fork with her left hand, adjusting and readjusting her fingers on the handle before she takes a stab at the nacho fries. After a few tries, she manages to pierce one, but it droops, dripping cheese back onto the plate. Emery does her best to twist her hand and contain the mess, but when she leans in for a bite, she ends up smearing cheese across her cheek.

“Wow.”

She looks at me. “What?”

“I’m just impressed.”

“By what?”

I smirk. “By your complete and utter lack of coordination.”

“You’re a jerk,” she says with a glare.

But she knows I’m right. Frustrated, Emery drops her fork and leans back in the booth. She crosses her arms over her chest, and I can’t help but laugh.

I reach for the fork and spear a bite of greasy cheese and French fry. “Here.”

“You’re going to feed me?” she sneers, looking around self-consciously.

“Do you want to eat, or would you prefer to just keep smearing the food around your face?”

Emery stares at me and then at the bite, her eyes flicking back and forth. I can tell she’s tempted, but her pride is getting in the way. So I shrug and shove the bite into my mouth.

As soon as I close my lips around the fork, Emery gasps. “Hey!”

“You weren't going to eat it.”

“Yes, I was!” she argues. “I was just about to when you—”

I make another bite and hold it out to her. “Then eat.”

With her eyes narrowed and locked on mine, Emery leans in and wraps her lips around the food.

And just like that, I’m hard.

I had no idea eating could be this sensual. Her lips are plump and full around the fork. When she pulls back slowly, they pout out even more. I watch as she shifts the food to one cheek and then the other before she chews and swallows.

Then she opens her mouth and waits for another bite.

Fuck me.

I hold out the fork again and we repeat the process. Each time, I think this shouldn’t be nearly as erotic as it is. But Emery could make filing my taxes erotic. The woman does something to me.

I’m not the only one affected. By the time we’re finishing off the plate, Emery has slid closer to me on the booth. Our legs are touching under the table and her good hand is on my knee.

“How does it taste?” I ask softly.

She moans softly. “Good.”

“Just good?”

Her eyes flutter closed. “Really good.”

I inch my fingers over her leg, working my way towards the warmth between her thighs as she leans forward and takes another bite. This memorial is about to get a lot more memorable if Emery doesn’t stop me. I’ll finger fuck her to an orgasm right here in this booth, the entire Bratva as my witness.

And that is just what I’m about to do…

When a loud cry cuts through the party.