The Darkest Temptation (Made 3)

Grinding her down on my erection, I said, “I’ve had a shitty day, kotyonok. Make it better.”

“I’m calling the doctor.” She tried to pull away, but I didn’t let her go.

“You don’t have a phone.”

“Ronan . . . please. Please, just call the doctor.” Fuck. She sounded close to a fresh wave of tears. It rubbed me the wrong way, though that warm sensation returned, cementing the comparison I’d given it earlier to the holidays. Although, my cock was rock-hard, so now, the feeling was closer to a softcore Christmas special.

“I’ll text him,” I told her. “But only if you help me occupy the time until he gets here.”

The unenthusiastic look she gave me wasn’t one I usually got from a woman I was about to fuck, but it was somehow adorable nonethe

less.

“That can’t be advised on WebMD.”

I chuckled. “If you’re such a follower of theirs, I’m sure they have a tutorial on how to patch up a gunshot wound. Better wash your hands and find a needle.”

She sighed, cast a look at the blood dripping from the crimson-soaked binding on my arm, and gave in. “Okay. But text him right now. This is a Satan’s Express situation, not a leisurely drive through the countryside. Got it?”

My eyes narrowed. I wasn’t used to taking orders—especially with fucking “got it” attached to the end—but the ridiculousness of what she was saying overrode the annoyance. I pulled my phone from my pocket and shot off a text to Kirill, using Mila’s exact words. He’d figure it out. Or maybe not. All I cared about now was the woman sliding down my body and working on my belt buckle.

I tossed my phone to the floor.

Mila released me from my briefs and wrapped a hand around my hard cock, slowly stroking me like an apathetic fluffer doing her job behind the scenes of a porno.

“This is nice, kotyonok. But not exactly what I had in mind.”

She glanced up at me. Her eyes were a window to her soul. I suddenly knew, if I ever died, those eyes would have something to do with it. Somehow, it sounded acceptable to me.

“Will you show me what you like?” she asked uneasily. Then she lowered to her stomach between my legs, and I understood her reservation, nearly groaning.

“Da.” Fuck da.

It felt like I was a teenager about to get his first blow job. My heart beat overtime, which was probably making me bleed more, but I’d take that knowledge to the grave or else I knew Mila would stop.

This definitely wasn’t advised on WebMD.

The first slide of her tongue on my shaft hit me like a lance of fire. Residual heat spread up my stomach and tightened my abs. My head fell back to the couch, and I clenched my teeth in an effort to not make a sound as she licked my dick like a lollipop. I’d never make it to three hundred and eighty-eight.

My hand tightened in a fist as I fought the urge to slide my fingers into her hair; to hold her still and fuck her mouth. That was what I’d do with any other woman, but I couldn’t stomach treating Mila like everyone else—even considering the way she torturously licked every inch of my cock.

Her free hand slid up my taut abs. The slim ivory fingers appeared innocent. Soft as velvet. Unpainted, blunt nails. Unblemished skin. Yet the press of them on my stomach burned a path just as hot as her mouth. This was the first time I’d paid attention to a woman’s hands instead of her mouth on my cock. Maybe I really was bleeding out.

Her gaze met mine as she licked the head of my cock. I held in a groan, knowing the moment I was vocal, all kinds of demanding things would escape. Containing, but not limited to: “Gag on my cock . . . Deep-throat me, kotyonok . . . Tap my thigh when you need to breathe.”

The moonlight cast a halo over every inch of her body. It looked like an angel was sucking my dick—D’yavol’s dick. I knew the real devil would never let her go. He’d cut off her wings and lock her away. The idea would have some merit if Alexei wasn’t such a massive bitch and if karma wasn’t fucking everything up with feelings, reminding me Mila wouldn’t like that idea very much. As much as I appreciated the tears she shed for me, my skin also chafed at the idea of causing more.

She seemed to be getting more comfortable with this and enjoying herself too. The pad of her foot slid up the other ankle while she tortured me with little licks and sucks that only made me ache.

Her gaze lifted to mine. “You’re being so quiet. Very . . . passive.” She tilted her head, a hint of worry flickering in her eyes. “Are you feeling okay?” I had the impression she was close to touching my forehead to check my temp.

I wasn’t being demanding, so I must be sick? Jesus Christ.

“I’m fine, Mila. Just suck my cock, would you?”

She frowned. “You’re not telling me what you like.”

“I like it all.” It was partly true. She could breathe on my dick, and I’d enjoy it. If this day hadn’t gone to shit, she could lick my cock for hours without any complaints. But right now, all I wanted was to come in that pretty mouth of hers.