Elicit (Eagle Elite #4)(55)
Author: Rachel Van Dyken

Her head fell back, exposing her neck, and I took full advantage, sucking her skin all the way down to her collarbone—one of my favorite places.

Her br**sts teased my chest and her ni**les hardened to rigid pebbles.

My hands hooked around her hips and lifted her into the air tossing her onto the bed.

As I slid off my boxers, I crawled slowly up her body, licking, tasting, and biting my way up her leg until my head was next to her thigh. Shivering she arched her back and let out a little moan.

And I lost it, for the second, third, maybe fifth time that night.

Making her scream was my only goal.

Damn I was going to go to Hell for walking away after this—but I couldn’t… she was my drug—my sweet addiction—and I needed a fix more than I needed another breath of air.

“Tex!” It was the first time she’d spoken to me since I’d scolded her. Eyes wide open she pushed against my chest. “I still hate you for what you’re doing.”

“Good.” I kissed inside her thigh and reached up to tug her body closer to mine. “Hate me in a few minutes—love me now.”

Her eyes took on a dark hue before flashing again as I gently slapped her leg and smirked.

The woman reared up and bit my lip.

Damn if I didn’t love that.

“Scream for me,” I whispered against her mouth tasting blood. “Only me, not him… not anyone else. You’re mine. Make me believe it.”

With a cry I thrust into her while simultaneously jerking her body down by her shoulders, staking my claim once and for all. She took me in and then tightened her muscles, squeezing herself around me, gripping me in the most intimate way I’d ever experienced. The abrupt sensation had me arching backwards, my body unsure if I wanted more or less.

She moved underneath me, rocked her hips a little.

More, definitely more.

Sharp nails dug into my back, beckoning me to pump harder and harder until I was out of breath, until all I saw was Mo—until she was my whole world—my existence.

Her muscles constricted around me, so tight it was all I could feel, her entire body taut. With a cry she pulled me down to her, our mouths meeting somewhere in the middle as her tongue tangled with mine.

And then she moaned, gently, in my ear.

And I was done—so done.

Finished.

The end.

We looked at each other—both of us naked and panting and I said the one thing I knew no guy who actually loved someone should ever say. “We can’t do that again.”

CHAPTER FIFTY

A woman scorned is a woman no man—Mafia or not—wants to deal with.

Phoenix

I SIPPED THE WHISKEY and winced. You know something’s very wrong when you’re unable to drink the pain away—when you feel so numb that the alcohol may as well be water dripping down your throat. I set the glass on the table and got up to stretch.

The men were in deep conversation about The Commission—something I really wanted to stop hearing about, all things considering.

“I’m going to go check on Bee,” I whispered to Luca and slapped him on the back.

He nodded once and returned to his conversation. Funny, Luca was the last guy on this planet I thought I’d align with. He’d tried to kill me when he’d first met me, weird how my murderer turned out to be my savior—more of a father figure than my own.

I scratched the back of my head and walked into the living room where the girls were having wine.

Bee was sitting in the corner, listening politely. Every few seconds she’d tilt her head and sigh, I knew that look. Insecurity at its finest, she wasn’t sure how to act or what to do. She crossed and then uncrossed her legs, took a sip of water, and looked down at her hands.

“Bee,” I called. “Come here.”

She jolted from her seat and walked towards me. I ignored the sway of her hips just like I ignored the vanilla swirling around my nose. “Are you okay?”

“Why?” She crossed her arms. “Are you going to take me away now?”

“No.”

“I’m bored.”

I pressed my lips together in annoyance. “I’m not your entertainment.”

Bee gave me a one sided shoulder shrug and looked up through half-lidded eyes. “Do you want to be.”

“Stop.” I swallowed convulsively.

Her eyebrows pinched together in mock innocence as she reached out and touched my arm. I jerked away. “Stop what?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.” We’d had this discussion numerous times. I didn’t do girls, I didn’t fall prey to her pouty lips or her swaying hips, no matter how many times she tried. I wasn’t a toy for her to toss around just because she wasn’t getting her way.

With a pout she crossed her arms. “Come on, you have to be curious. All those long nights watching me sleep…” Her hand reached out, fingers tickled my forearm as she caressed. “Did you ever wonder what face I saw in my dreams?”

My teeth clenched together as I looked away. “No. Now stop. I’m not taking you home yet, not when Tex still wants to talk with you.”

“You’re a bastard,” She hissed.

“Thank you.” I stepped back.

With balled fists she let out a low growl and stomped on my foot with her giant-ass heel then marched past me.

Instant agony radiated up the top of my foot to my ankle. I forced a smile through the throbbing torture. My toe was probably broken; somehow Bee had managed to wedge her stiletto on top of my big toe rather than between my toes. Great. Just add a limp to the rest of the drama going on in my life.

“You okay?” Trace came up beside me and put her hand on my arm.

I tensed, hyperaware of every single finger that was pressed into my skin. Everything about her reminded me of what I was, what I’d done. Bile rose in my throat as I let out a small groan of irritation at my own weakness. I couldn’t control my mind as images of her broken body flashed through my head. I was worse than the devil—I was the devil.

She dropped her hand and looked down. “That looks painful.”

“That’s not pain,” I whispered looking down the hall were Bee had disappeared. “Real pain isn’t getting shot, or stepped on, or kicked, or punched. Real pain isn’t something tangible, you can’t see it, can only feel it as it wraps it’s hands around your neck and slowly chokes you to death, it follows you everywhere tortures you with every waking moment, giving you no peace. Pain is allowing yourself to feel guilt, shame, sadness, and even love. Trace, that’s what hurts a person. My foot? That’s nothing compared to hearing girls screams every night I go to bed.” I looked into her eyes. “Or seeing your face every damn day. That’s real pain.”