Torrid Read online Nikki Sloane (Sordid #2)

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Bad Boy, BDSM, Crime, Dark, Erotic, New Adult, Romance, Suspense Tags Authors: Series: Sordid Series by Nikki Sloane
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Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 100796 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
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I swirled my tongue, tumbling it over his damp, hard skin, as I worked up and down. I slid him between my lips, letting my teeth scrape over the veins pulsing in his firm muscle and he shuddered. The cold hand on the back of my neck tightened in response. I sucked and fucked him exactly as he liked it, but this time, I began to enjoy it, too.

I was in control of his pleasure, which meant I had the power. Every uneven, deep breath he took was like gaining ground in battle. Each dirty word he groaned was a tiny victory. It might be temporary, but he was currently under my spell and at my mercy.

So, I made the blowjob last. I moved at a languid pace, slow passes with just my tongue like he was candy I couldn’t get enough of, followed by deep sucks that hollowed my cheeks and made him sigh with satisfaction.

“That’s so fucking good,” he said, rasping. His left hand rested on his thigh and it curled into a tense fist. “Such a good girl. So good at sucking my cock.”

I moaned.

It just happened, and it turned me on. He sank back into the seat, spreading his legs wider so he could thrust up into my mouth. “You like it?” he whispered. “Oh, fuck, yeah. Me, too. Use your hands.”

He was slippery and throbbing as I ringed his shaft and pumped my grip on him, moving faster and gripping tighter as his responses encouraged me. It was sexy. So sexy, heat pooled in my body, and I grew damp between my thighs.

I shouldn’t like what I was doing.

Vasilije and his family sold drugs, and guns, and worst of all, girls who were forced to do the exact thing I was doing now. Plus, he’d murdered his father. And most of the time he treated me like I was an object and not a person, although the last one wasn’t as big of a deal—I rarely felt like a person anymore. I was just an empty husk, fueled by the need for justice. Or revenge. I couldn’t see the difference between the two and no longer cared to.

All that mattered was the goal.

Despite everything, in addition to the fact Vasilije and I weren’t alone in this vehicle, I couldn’t stop my heart from racing, or my nipples from hardening inside my bra. I was turned on so much it was painful. I felt it all over, from my sensitive skin brushing against the expensive lace, to the dull ache where he’d fucked me last night.

His loud, labored breathing was the only thing I could hear, and getting him to the edge was all I could think about. Listening to him come was . . . intense. Exciting and still so new.

“Fucking get me deeper in your mouth.” His demand was strangled with desperate need.

I tried to relax and allowed him to pump upward with force while he held me down with a firm hand on my neck. My eyes watered as he pushed past the point of comfort, but I blinked back the sensation and endured. He quickened his tempo until he was jerking in and out of my mouth, his legs flexing and straining, and . . .

He came, hot and hard, blasting his thick liquid into my mouth where it pooled, and I awaited his command, listening to his pants of uneven breath sandwiched between swear words.

“Swallow.” His voice was like gravel.

It was strange how this sex act was solely about his pleasure, and yet when I followed his order and he shuddered with an aftershock, I felt it, too. All the way down my spine, to the tips of my toes. I drew back from him when he let me up, and tried to wipe my damp lips, but his hand never came off my neck. He used it to pull me into his savage kiss.

He was . . . disorienting.

Everything came to a standstill when his lips pressed to mine. His kiss took from me. My power. My submission. And I gave it all up without a fight.

When the kiss ended, his eyes were closed and our foreheads pressed together. He was still struggling to catch his breath when he spoke. “Don’t say anything tonight. Not unless I tell you it’s okay to speak. Got it?”

Vasilije’s tone was different. Was it the aftereffects of his orgasm? Instead of ordering me around, it seemed like he was concerned. It wasn’t possible. The devil didn’t care about anyone but himself. The car hit a bump, jostling us, and broke the spell. I was shoved out of his way as he did up his pants, and his eyes turned cold.

“Put your seatbelt back on,” he said.

I sat against the leather seat, latched the buckle, and turned away from him to watch the traffic, even as his taste lingered in my mouth



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