Series: Penny Dee
Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 97669 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97669 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Next, I undo his belt buckle, then his zipper, push his clothes to his feet, and watch, my heart racing, as he steps out of them.
Naked, he is magnificent. His hard body is covered in ink. His stomach is ridged with muscles that flex beneath my touch. I slide my hands across the broad expanse of his chest and over his wide shoulders.
He has scars of his own. Scars that tell a story of his life as a powerful man in the underworld. A healed stab wound beneath his right nipple. And what looks like two bullet wounds puckered within the grooves of his abs. I’ve explored his body multiple times, but I’ve never asked about these wounds or scars, not wanting to get so close.
We stand facing each other, stripped bare in the pale light, and there is something so freeing at this moment. Like I have nothing left to hide with this man.
He pulls me against him, and it’s warm skin on warm skin. I feel his cock hard against my stomach, and the sensation sends heat pooling between my thighs.
He cups my face and kisses me again, and this time the kiss deepens, and I wind my arms around his neck and press closer, needing more of him. Wanting every part of him.
He lifts me into his powerful arms and carries me to the soft rug in front of the fire, where he lays me down.
The sight of him standing over me steals my breath. The sheer size of him. The thick muscles of his powerful body. His hard cock swaying against his abs as he moves.
He lowers himself over me.
“You’re safe,” he murmurs against my lips, and my heart sinks with acceptance.
I pull him down, and he settles between my thighs, the thick head of his cock pressing into me. He enters me slowly. So slow that I feel every inch pushing into me, and a long, trembling moan spills from my lips. He’s big, and the stretch is exquisite. With a moan, I close my eyes and lose myself in the sensation.
My nails naturally curl into his shoulder blades, and he growls, as if trying to contain his inner beast.
He pulls back and then pushes inside me again, and my back arches off the rug.
“Silas,” I breathe raggedly, almost pleadingly for him to increase his pace. Neither of us is used to this controlled pace, but something about it feels like it’s bringing us closer.
He rocks into me, and his pace is torturously slow. Each stroke of his thick cock is hard and deep, and they take me to someplace I’ve never been. I lift my hips to meet his thrusts, and a groan rumbles from deep within his chest. He drops his forehead to mine.
“Fuck, Leonore … you feel… I feel… ” He doesn’t have the words.
“I know; I feel it too,” I whisper.
And I do.
I don’t know what it is.
But I do know whatever walls existed between us before this very moment are gone.
And there is no coming back from this.
39
SILAS
Ibrush away part of her hair that’s fallen over her face as she sleeps in my bed. I’ve contained the quiet storm raging within me after hearing her story. No wonder she wanted to run. Understandably, it’s hard for her to stay. But I will not let any fucker lay a hand on her.
As I watch her sleep, it hits me so powerfully that I have no choice but to face reality.
I’m not falling for her.
I’m already in love with this little raven.
I don’t personally know Konstantin Lomonov. But I’ve heard of him.
He’s a big player in the West Coast underbelly.
But what I do know is this: if he comes after Leonore, then Konstantin Lomonov is a fucking dead man.
I lightly shuffle off the bed, making sure not to wake her as I immediately go into action.
I find my phone on the floor near the fireplace and message Valen to be here immediately. I’d already prepared a few guards around the home, but I want security in full.
I then call Mikhail Sokolov. He’s a part of a different Russian branch, but he sure as hell would know more about Konstantin than I do.
He answers on the fourth ring. “It’s four in the morning. This better be good,” he says with his thick Russian accent. I don’t bite back at his intentional antagonizing. He sleeps just as little as I do.
“Konstantin Lomonov, what do you know about him?”
He’s quiet for a moment. Yes, we’re the heads of two different crews, but he’s the closest thing I have to a friend, and I can sense he’s quickly putting together a few pieces since it was only a few days ago he gave me the information on Leonore’s fake identity, not pressing for any questions. Just accepting cash. This might be different, however.