His hands move on their own accord, his body having made the decision for him as he yanks at his belt in haste.
All the while, his eyes refuse to leave mine.
Naked from the waist down, I bend my knees, sliding my feet outward, opening myself up to him. A sacrificial lamb presented for the slaughter. My predator, too beautiful to be good for me.
Cool air hits the warmth of my center. Anticipation buzzes through my veins, expending itself in a pleasant trickle of wetness dripping from my pussy down the crack of my ass.
Sucking two fingers in my mouth, I trail them down my body slowly, pussy throbbing in foretaste as they move toward the tight knot of my clit. I rub myself in soft circles, moaning loudly.
“Look what you do to me,” Rocco bites out, the words breaking off on a pained groan as he squeezes his hand around his length, pulling it from the confines of his pants.
My hand moves faster, my body shaking in titillation. I feel numb and oversensitive and rapacious all at once. I want to come. I want to hold out. I want to scream.
“Inside,” Rocco commands and I follow his instruction, surprised at the ease in which I forgot he was here. Too caught up in my own pleasure to care.
Forcing my eyes on him, I watch his hand fist his thick cock, pumping it in hard, lazy pulls. My fingers push inside my eager body, hips lifting without direction. The sleek line of my fingers push deeper, seeking the one spot that will have me seeing fireworks.
“Rocco,” I whimper, my fingers moving in and out, the sound of my excitement, the melody of my fingers loud enough to make him grunt.
I’m mesmerized by the sight of him. The brutal aura of a man lost to lust. Spellbound by a carnal need to dominate his prey yet submit to his pleasure.
The silk luster of his skin tells me he’d feel like velvet in my hand. Hard and smooth. The thought alone enough to make me salivate.
I want him in my mouth.
“Soon,” he rumbles.
So lost to the moment I hadn’t realized I’d spoken aloud.
My tongue peeks out, licking along my bottom lip in a dreamlike anticipation. Wishing, hoping, praying for his thick head to rest heavy against my lips.
The impressive length of his cock points at me, the crown of his head dripping with the translucent white of pre-cum. The veins of his hand pulsate with every slide of his wrist, giving away just how hard he’s gripping himself.
My body is on fire, a sheen of sweat kissed across my skin. Every muscle in my body tightens. I can hear myself panting, the thick need to come jumping from my throat in quick, short spurts.
“Keep going,” Rocco orders, his arm moving faster, his breathing climbing higher.
I do as I’m told.
Feet planted on his mattress, my hips fly upward, my fingers delving deeper still, needing… “More.”
“Your pussy’s so wet,” he mumbles, the veins in his neck like ropes; heavy and corded. “Fuck. I can’t fuckin’ wait to taste you, to touch you.”
I cry out at his words, my entire body convulsing, readying itself to explode in a million pieces.
“Cami, baby, I can’t hold on for much longer,” he growls.
“Come,” I whimper.
Stepping closer, he pumps his cock harder, the velvet head darkening just before he groans. Ribbons of cum shoot against my hand, the warmth of his climax mixing with mine.
It’s my undoing, back arched, breath caught, I unravel. Rocco’s name breaks from my lips, my body dropping to his bed in an orgasm so intense, my heart leaps from my chest.
I hear nothing. A quiet buzz surrounding me as my breathing evens out. My eardrums feel blocked, shut out with the thundering beat of my heart.
His calloused fingers wrapping around my wrist feels like a security blanket I never knew I needed. Slowly pulling my hand from my body, he lifts it. Tongue outstretched, he licks up my fingers, pausing as he approaches the tips to bite his lips, savoring the taste.
“Taste like heaven right now,” he muses. “Know what you’ll taste like after you’ve begged?”
I raise an eyebrow in question, too tired to speak.
“You’ll taste like hell, beauty. Like every sin pushed together, set alight to entice every motherfucker to this sweet cunt.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Sarah
Five-hundred thousand and not a cent less the text reads.
Jonathan looks over my shoulder. “Ready to tell me who your contact is yet?”
I don’t bother answering. I might be a junkie, but I’m not stupid. My cards aren’t just held close to my chest, they’re tattooed there. Inked faced down, refusing anyone access. I might need the muscle to execute this plan, but I’m the brains.
“Whoever they are, their price jumped fifty-grand overnight.”
I refrain from telling him to fuck off. It is, after all, his money we’re using to pay the asshole on the other end of the line.
Jonathan Waith might be pretty, but he’s as stupid as they fucking come. A wannabe boss with too big balls and not enough drive.
How my daughter spent four years of her life with him, I have no clue. I’d likely carve my own eyeballs out if I had to spend too much longer in his presence. He’s a means to an end. One with a hefty trust fund that consists of too many zeros and a vendetta to take ownership of my daughter. Five hundred grand is a drop in the ocean to him.
“Do you want Camryn or not?”
He stares at me. “You better not be playing me. I’ll fucking kill you if you are.”
I roll my eyes. “Swallow your little threats, boy. Drop a check and we’ll both get what we want.”
His dark eyebrows pull inward. “Why are you so hungry for revenge? Who is Rocco Shay to you?”
“He was no one,” I answer easily. “Until the asshole put hands on me. Now he’ll fucking die.”
“And Dominic?”
“He’ll be in a world of hurt when one of his precious daughters goes missing. He dotes over them like nobody’s business. It’s sickening.”
He smirks.
“That family wants revenge on me. They chose the wrong fucking person. I was happy living in hiding. My cunt of a husband put a dollar sign on my head and my daughters cheered him on.”
“They all need to pay.”
“They’re all going to pay,” I correct him.
Sliding a cigarette into his mouth, he watches me over the stick, the flame of his lighter dancing in his eyes. “How confident are you in your contact?”
“Dominic forgets what I know. Who I know. He’s not the only person who can claim control in this situation. Trust me.”
Jonathan laughs. “You’ve got to be kidding. You’re not a threat, Sarah. You’re a junkie whore with a score to settle.”
“I sought you out,” I bite back. “I can just as easily find someone else. Don’t tempt me. We have the same end goal here. Maximum damage. Fucking relax.”
“I’ll relax when I have my Kitty Kat back in my bed. Until then...” He holds up a bag in front of my face, the small white shards of rock inside quickening my heart rate. “Pure. Only just hit the market,” he teases.
“Give it.” I stand, skittish as fuck like the junkie I am, dying for a taste.
“Oh. I’m already giving you five hundred grand, sweetheart. You’re gonna have to pay for this.”