“Fuck,” I muttered gutturally, the curse forming under my breath as I sped up, my fist flying as need rode me hard.
Her hand moved, roaming over the meager curve of her belly before she began to unfasten the buttons of my shirt.
That she was doing it to tie me to her, like she’d tried it on before, pissed me off, but I was too horny to complain.
Later on, I’d make her realize that if she was going to act like a slut for me, there’d be repercussions, but as it stood, I was willing to be a hypocrite because my cock ached like a fucker and we had too much to do this morning before Tink and my crew came around for the wedding service.
Few men would realize she was trying to pussywhip them, but I wasn’t exactly ‘few’ men. She forgot I knew how she responded now. After last night and at the stables, I’d learned more about her than she probably knew.
The shirt buttons slowly parted beneath deft fingers, revealing creamy, golden skin that was begging to be licked, sucked, and bitten. Then her hands went straight to her tits, proof that I knew her body better than she did.
They weren’t her hot spot. Her throat, neck, they were what got her hot. Her ear, too. She liked the sting of pain—which made sense—biting. Sucking.
My jaw clenched once more because the thought had shit ricocheting around inside my mind, shit that I wasn’t even sure if I had the mental capacity to handle anymore.
I was no longer twenty-three. I had responsibilities and duties to my family and to the Points, and it wasn’t like I had time to dance attendance on anyone.
The reason Ma was seeing a fucking shrink, I’d reasoned while I tried to get to sleep, was because I hadn’t been doing my duty as a son to her.
Long ago, I’d promised her I’d never let her down again, and so, I visited, but I definitely wasn’t around as much for her as I used to be... that was on me.
So how the fuck could I tame this little bitch in my bed?
Was she worthy of my time?
She was Bratva scum, but I’d seen Inessa flourish in the Irish camp. She’d gone through the same shit as Camille, but it was clear to me that Camille had seen a lot more than her younger sister had of their parents’ relationship.
Something had fucked Camille up. Something had made her slice into her palms like she was peeling a fucking orange.
My fist tightened down on my cock as she circled the tips of her nipples with her fingers, and I slapped my free hand to the window, which made her jump. My jaw ached as badly as my cock with the need to tell her to get her ass in here and do something about my erection, but...
Fuck.
I was honorable now.
I had to be. I’d done too much shit in my life I was ashamed of. She was just proof of that. Even though I’d come to terms with being ready to marry, she’d be the last person on my list, what with her ties, but she’d said it herself—I’d made a promise to Mariska that might as well have been forged on her deathbed.
And the notion of Camille slicing her wrists or throwing herself down the stairs to avoid being Abramovicz’s wife was enough to make me want to spank her for even allowing those thoughts to formulate.
When my little brain was in charge, there was no way I should be able to think as much as I was doing right now, but that she’d jerked me out of a lust-filled haze was testament to the volatile nature of my response to her.
I could jack off.
I could watch my cum swirl down the drain.
OrI could have her jack me off.
I could watch her fucking gargle my cum...
I could touch her pussy.
Punish her for trying to turn me into a cunt-slave...
My cock hardened, my brain switched off, and anything that was honorable disappeared.
I knew what I wanted, and it wasn’t my fucking fist.
Rearing away from the window, I twisted around to turn off the shower once my soapy dick was clean, then I stalked out of the bathroom and into my bedroom.