SACRIFICE (Book Two: The London Crime King)

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CH 33

Alexa


I roused to the sound of sporadic banging. Changing positions on an exhausted whine, I whirled to my side, blindly rummaging for the vodka bottle. "Shit." Rubbing my weary eyes, I clambered off the bed, zigzagged in the dark and fell into the en-suite bathroom.

Turning on the light, dazzling myself, I relieved my bladder, washed my hands in the sink and caught sight of my horrific reflection.

Tucking blonde hair behind my ears, I douse a hand towel with cold water and wipe smudged mascara off my cheeks. I complained, pinching the blue contacts from my eyes, discarding them in the trash bin.

I blinked rapidly for clearer vision, squirted paste onto a toothbrush and scrubbed my vodka-veneered teeth while simultaneously shimmying out of the crinkled pencil skirt.

Another echoing whack rippled beneath my bare feet. All the muscles inside me tautened, ears perked up to listen.

Did Heather come home?

I convinced myself she'd spend the night at Ivor's place.

Spitting foam into the sink, I cupped water in my palm and swilled out my mouth, turned off the tap and towel-dried my hands.

Unbuttoning my blouse, unclasping and boomeranging my bra across the shadowed room, I tugged on an oversized T-shirt, unlocked the bedroom door and ventured down the hall. "Heather?" I croaked, descending the stairs, checking to see if her discarded sandals are by the front door. "How was your date?"

Nothing except eerie silence and blackness greeted me.

I glimpse at the wall-mounted clock: four-thirty a.m.

In the midst of obscured emptiness, I hear another resounding thump from the function room. I almost called her name, Heather, but that shifty man from the tearoom came into consciousness.

I obtained gallant resilience and strength, tiptoed into the kitchen and opened a drawer to select a sharp steak knife. I swear if that man from town followed me home? I'll gauge his eyes out—bloody barbarically.

Fingers tight to the handle, I put my back to the wall and cautiously sidestepped in the shadows, all senses heightened and on high alert.

Wielding the sharpest point of the knife, I nudged the function room door open, peering inside. Everything looked the same, clean and uncluttered, fresh, ornamental flowers and piled fashion magazines.

A noisy clatter thundered from the window, ripping an alarmed shriek from my throat. Terrified, I glued my back to the wall, panting and breathing strained—the night breeze blows the netted lace, floating like a ghost-like veil above a table. "Jesus Christ, Heather."

She left the window open.

Who does that?

Patting sweat from my brow, I lowered the knife on a calmed inhale, strolled across the room, towed the net aside and locked the window. I stood back and looked through the glass windowpane, scanning the gardens. Shadows and silhouettes outline the trees and patio furniture. One of the wind chimes I bought Heather, a tintinnabulation of faint tinkling bells, glistened from a hanging branch.

I am losing my mind.

Insane.

Paranoid.

Borderline alcoholic.

I returned the knife to the kitchen, paced back to the bedroom and bolted myself inside. I watch the closed door as if expecting a loud crash or an intruder, incapable of shaking this tension, rioting my nervousness into irrational action.

"Insane, paranoid," I mutter, foot catching a vodka bottle on the floor. In the dark, I pick it up and unscrew the cap, guzzling a dangerous amount. "Alcoholic."

"Miss Rose," he said in a smooth, baritone voice. "Do you often drink harsh alcohol at this time of the morning?"

I choked on a gargled scream, spraying vodka in my midst. Throwing down the bottle, I tumbled over my floordrobe, shoes and clothing, plunged into the wall with a face-smashing thud and slapped around for the switch.

I found the light and illuminated the room, but assembling the courage to face him immobilised me. I am concentrated to the floral patterned wallpaper, heart beating, pulse thudding in my ears.

What is he doing here?

How did he find me?

The floorboard creaked behind me.

"You're scared of me," he said arrogantly, and that's when I felt his warm breath on the nape of my neck. "Why?"

Piecing together a satisfactory answer, I shut my eyes. "I wasn't expecting a random man in my bedroom."

"Are we not acquainted?" He suffocated me with his nearness. "Did you not touch once to the sound of my voice, Victoria?" His fingers gently descended the length of my spine and an inconvenient shiver passed through me. "Your body seems to respond to me rather well."

Oh, he's such a conceited asshole.

Hands curling into fists, I spun to face him, ready to unleash months of pent-up bitterness, but then our eyes connected, and I submitted to overwhelming nostalgia.

I will never acclimate to his raw handsomeness. Sculpted cheekbones and thickly lashed ice-blue eyes. Lustrous black hair styled flawlessly. Rough stubble kneaded his jaw, and his sensual yet wicked lips remained in a tight line. I couldn't tell if he's annoyed, irritable, pleased or happy. He knowingly disguised his expression with indifference.

Modelling an exquisite grey suit and black shirt, he soared against my quivering form. His pungent cologne, leather and hardwood, drifting between us.

Liam Warren.

My Liam.

He moved forward, one step too close, invading my compromised breathing space. "Miss Rose?"

Of course, he searched through Heather's computer database. He orchestrated this meeting to his advantage, granting himself access, opening the window to frighten and distract me.

Hands tucked in his trouser pockets, jingling loose change, he dipped his head, skimming the shell of my ear with his lips. "I don't like repeating myself."

"What do you want?" I stuttered, wishing he'd give me a moment to digest his unexpected arrival, to let me catch my—

"Breathe." He spoke, rough and commanding.

I breathed a stuttered breath, breaking away from the intensity of his penetrating gaze. I can't be this close to him, not if I want to sustain some level of dignity. I am too weak, foolish and irresponsible for this man.

His all-encompassing proximity unsettles me. I know him, really know him, and this calm, poised demeanour means he's seconds away from shoving me into the wall and snatching my jaw with inexorable force—

Liam cupped my cheek with a large, callous hand. I bristled, shying away from his mesmerising eyes. I turned my face into his palm, relishing the feel of his familiar embrace.

I envied every woman who touched him in my wake.

My eyes shot open. "Get your hands off me." I pushed his solid chest, urging him back. "I am not one of your whores, Mr Warren. You got some nerve showing up here at unsociable hours, looking for—"

"For what?" he goaded, lowering his head so that we're eye level. "Surely, you are not that presumptuous?" A secret I wasn't privy to ignited in his steel gaze. "You intrigue me, though." He stepped back, slicing his disapproval around my accommodation. "You wear Louboutin shoes and designer lace," he pulled my white thong from his trouser pocket, dangling it from his index finger, "yet willingly residing in outmoded squalor. May I ask why?"

Snatching it from his hand, I shouldered past him, frantically collecting price-tagged underwear and garments I emptied on the floor earlier. "I don't see how that's any of your business."

He chuckled, short and deriding. "After we spoke on the phone," he said as I stuffed everything in a drawer, "I ordered one of my closest men to do a background check."

I stilled.

"Can you believe that we found absolutely nothing?" he hummed, and I felt his scrutiny burning into the back of my head. "No national insurance number, birth certificate or previous job roles. Tell me, Miss Rose. What's a man to do when he comes unstuck?"

Painting on a fake smile, I faced him. "I am sure you will enlighten me."

"Of course." He lifts an insouciant shoulder. "I had you followed."

"Of course," I mimicked, wanting to go back in time and kick that fucking disguised Suit in the shin. "Unearth anything interesting?"

"Not much. You willingly stay in this shambolic building, drink too much alcohol for it to be deemed safe. Your exorbitant spending habits most definitely raise concern, considering your employment status." He refrains from mocking laughter, pinching his lips. "Unless, of course, we consider amateurish escorting." He's back in my space, intimidatingly towering before me with his imperious haughtiness. "Educate me, Miss Rose." Hand slipping in his suit jacket pocket, he retrieved a leather wallet and made a show of counting fifty-pound notes. "Although I am more inclined to choose a brunette, I do wonder how much does an adequate blow job get me?"

Pure rage zapped through me. I slapped him, hard, the impact resounding around the room. "How dare you?" I yelled, controlling unshed tears. "You don't even know me—"

"That's right." He doesn't touch his inflamed cheek. He bores into me with murderous eyes, the muscles in his jaw ticking. "Pardon my audaciousness, Victoria." And as predicted, his hand abruptly snatched my throat, forcing my back to hit the wall. "What have I told you about fucking hitting me?"

"What?" I gasped, fingernails clawing his wrist. "I can't breathe."

"Do not make a mockery out of me!" he barked, lips snarling in repulsion. "Do not," he rasped, his Adam's apple jiving in his throat, "take me for a fool." His fingers alleviated a touch, the pain scorching my flesh. He regarded my discomfort, spewed expletives and tossed me aside. "Fuck."

He hadn't meant to use force, but I lost my footing, palms and knees crashing against the floor. His dismissal, even though too rough for a woman my size, was an act of leniency. It's not anger in his feverish outburst; it's pure devastation and despair.

I peered up at him from under wet eyelashes.

Hands clasped behind his head, staring at the ceiling, Liam stands in the middle of the room.

What on earth had Victoria done to incense him?

Realisation hammered down on me like a thunderous hailstorm. I stumbled into stance, using the wall for support. "Liam," I murmured, and his stony gaze met mine. "I—"

"Stop," he gravelled out. "I don't want to fucking hear it."

The pain in his eyes quite literally killed me. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" He sucked in a harsh breath, rubbing a hand down his hardened features. "For giving me a false name?" Positioning his hands on either side of my head, he closed me in, capturing my full attention. "For faking your death?" Ever so gently, he unravelled the bobble from my hair, loosening the blonde piece. "For not coming back to me?"

"Liam," I whispered a sob, giving him an almost imperceptible shake of the head.

"For leaving me alone in the world?" He tossed the wig on the floor, and my long, dark curls cascaded over one shoulder. "Or for breaking my fucking heart?" Watching a tear roll down my cheek, he inched closer, his soft lips pressing to the corner of my mouth. "I hate all that you've become."

"I didn't change for you," I snide, turning away from his condemnatory eyes. "I changed for myself."

He captured my jaw, urging me to look at him head-on. "Because your life was so disastrous, right?"

I scoffed. "I was pathetic."

Rage ablazed in his sad eyes. "You were perfect."

I gave him a mocking laugh. "You said it yourself. I wasn't strong enough to stand alongside a man like you."

"That's not what I meant, and you know it," he argued, jerking away from me. "Is that what this bullshit is about? Did you go through all this trouble," he furiously gesticulated around the room, "just to prove a fucking point? For fuck's sake."

My face heated. "No." He unexpectedly smashed the lamp off the table, scattering mosaic pieces across the floor. "Liam, stop!" He's not satisfied. His wrath ascended to a precarious speed and, in a moment of sheer frustration, he punched a hole in the wall beside my head, seized the square mirror and shattered large fragments of glass to the ground. "Liam, please." He shirked from me as though the idea of me touching him repulsed him. "I said, stop!"

At the sound of my quailed voice, he staggered on a heaved breath. Blood rivulets from his crackled knuckles, snaking between his fingers.

My back plastered to the wall, I dragged myself back onto my feet, keeping a safe distance between us.

Liam shook his head imperceptibly, gravitated towards me and stopped.

I held his agonising stare, trying to fathom his indecipherable behaviour when he lowered to one knee, dropped his head to my lower stomach and grasped the backs of my thighs.

A stunned, choked sob fell from my lips. I gripped his head, holding him.

"You are the only woman I wanted at my side," he said throatily, fingers pinching my skin. "You think I didn't admire your strength—wrong. I loved you so much. Placing you in the firing line was like ripping out my heart and feeding it to the wolves." He lifted my T-shirt and placed a closed mouth kiss on my red lace, inhaling my scent. "I only wanted to protect you." I strived to lower my knees, but he caught my hips, pinning me to the wall. "I yield to you as an angry yet broken man. Whatever I did to make you leave...let me earn your forgiveness."

I was speechless. "I don't deserve you."

"No." He fisted my T-shirt, tugging me into his arms. "You deserve so much more." Holding the back of my neck, he tilted my head. "I've missed you," he rasped, eyes outline every detail of my face. "You have no idea, no fucking idea how much." I saw raw vulnerability in his dilated eyes. "I cried for you, Alexa." He placed his cheek to mine, tasting my tears on his lips. "Why did you do this to us?"

I had no reasonable answer, not without harming Jace. "Liam." I held his face, hearing his hoarse inhale of breath. "I—"

He stole my pathetic excuse, devouring my lies with a firm, carnal kiss. Heart rate accelerating to an erratic pace, I tousled my fingers through his hair, pulling him to me. Lips fused to mine, he shrugged out of his suit jacket, tightly coiled around my body, trapping me in his firm, possessive arms. I parted my lips and welcomed his tongue, tasting a night of cognac. Our kiss was violent. Impatient and...tiny flutters uncaged in my chest, the uncontrollable butterflies I only experience when enthralled by him.

"Don't stop." His voice was thick with lust. Under my T-shirt, his hands smoothed up my back, hugging my shoulders. "Fuck, don't stop."

I turned my head, deepening the kiss, sucking on his tongue. My fingers worked to undo the buttons of the shirt. I parted the material from his sculpted physique, palms flat to his chest.

Liam was in no hurry to get me naked or beneath him. He savoured every firm touch, every breathless whimper.

Desperate for him to be inside me, I ripped the T-shirt from my head, pushing my chest onto his. Still, he took his time, showing me restraint and reverence.

"Liam," I moaned into his mouth, tugging his belt and zipper. "Please." He tore my lace, and my heart rate quickened. "Promise you won't regret this."

His face screwed up into a scowl. Without warning, he lifted me off the ground like I weighed nothing, enveloped my legs around his waist and slammed me into the wall. I don't know how he lost his clothes; I didn't care to watch. But I felt the wide head of his swollen crown at my throbbing sex, stretching me open as he forced into me, hard and thick, filling me to his liking.

I cried out, fingernails clawing down his spine. He hissed, sinking his teeth into my shoulder, sucking and kissing his way to the shell of my ear. I clenched around him, earning myself a deep, hoarse groan of approval.

He gripped my hips, shoving fiercely inside me, fucking me as if our lives depended on it.

Tongue tracing my lips, he coaxed another kiss from me, driving us to the point of no return.

I rode his pumping cock, shuddering in ecstasy. His fingers stroked my sex, and I lost my breath, body anchoring in his arms.

His jaw tensed with each pounded thrust. He buried his face in my neck, breathing heavily in my ear, dripping sweat down my chest.

I held on but couldn't stop the climaxing wave from crashing into me. I came, long and hard, body trembling in his arms.

He pushed us away from the wall, dropped me onto the bed, crawled across my body and stole another kiss. Fingers piercing my cheeks, he dominated each stroke of the tongue, other hand spreading my thighs apart, wide for him.

Braced on his forearms, he nestled above me, our mouths easing long enough to open our eyes and watch each other. He brushed wayward curls from my face as he examined the scar beneath my eye. He touched it with investigatory fingertips but refrained from asking questions.

I think, in an odd, unspoken sense, we both wanted a night without possible defeat and complications, so we ignored the sensible voices inside our heads and got lost in each other.

Liam palmed my cheek, laid a kiss to my scar. His head disappeared down my chest, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses.

He missed me. I feel it with every touch and admiring stroke. He's curious, though. Hands larger on my non-existent breasts, tracing my jutted ribs and prominent hip bones.

It displeases him. I see the conflict in his eyes. He wants to ask why I am only half the woman I once was. He wants to know if I am safe, healthy and happy. "You're beautiful," he assured me, our eyes aligning as he closed his mouth around my taut nipple. "So fucking beautiful."

Withstanding his intense blue eyes was impossible. My head sank in the pillow as a tear rolled from the corner of my eye. "You don't have to reassure me, Liam. I know that I have flaws." His hands tightened around my thighs. He was ready to scold me. "But I own my scars, both visible and indelible, so fuck anyone who disapproves." I chanced to look at him. He smirked, low and wolfish. "What?"

"Fucking hell." He bites down on his lower lip, hand locking around my throat. "You fighting back, baby?"

I was all smiles, raising my head to kiss him. He abruptly rolled me onto my stomach, and I chuckled into the pillow. "Liam, why must you be a caveman?" Uncomfortable silence extended between us. Hands stuffed under my chin, I glanced over my shoulder and felt the blood drain from my body. "Liam..."

"What did you do?" He fell back on his haunches, eyes fixated on my back. "Alexa?" I moved to sit up, but his hand forced me to keep still as he studied the tattooed angel wings. "Did you need wings to exist?"

I hated when he concealed his true feelings. His expression was unreadable, and it irked the life out of me. "What are you thinking?"

"I am trying to understand everything," he said without hesitation, the pads of his fingers contouring each shades feather. "Did it hurt?"

I nodded. "I might have passed out a couple of times."

That gained me a sexy smile, but his eyebrows cinched into a permanent frown just as quickly. "There is so much I need to tell you."

I repositioned onto my knees, snaked my arms around his shoulders and kissed the crease between his brows. "I hurt you."

"Yes," he said huskily, evading my eyes. "It's dreamlike." His hand curved around my backside, holding one cheek. "I..."

My frown synchronised his. I have never witnessed Liam wordless, pained or prone to farther anguish. I did this to him. I am responsible for immaturely jumping to conclusions, thinking he didn't care and judging him for using other women to ease the emptiness in his chest.

Alexa Haines.

What have I done?

I slept with Jace, right here, on this bed.

Nausea caroused in my lower stomach, threatening to breach.

"Alexa." His thumbs caught my tears. "Tomorrow, remember?"

"I'm sorry," I whispered into his palm, fingers adhering to his jewellery adorned wrist. "Not once in our separation did I forget about you, Liam."

He gripped my waist, urging me to lie down. I relinquished, parting my thighs. He settled between them, hand grasping my breast, mouth to my navel.

"No." I fisted his hair, stopping his advances. "It's your turn."

"Your pleasure is my pleasure." His thumbs separated my soaking folds, opening me to him. Mouth forming a suction over my clit, he flatted his tongue and sucked. He made a guttural sound, devouring and tasting.

I held the back of his neck, shamelessly widening my legs and rocking my hips. Shots of desire fired through me, and I moaned his name like a mantra.

Hands moving to the backs of my thighs, he pushed my knees to my chest. He widened me to his ardent mouth, tongue spearing inside me, smearing arousal to my aching clit.

Liam knows my body. He recognises when I am on a euphoric edge. His fingers eased between my velvety folds, searching for that hyperstimulated spot.

He fucked me with his fingers, thumb circling my clit, mouth suckling, lapping up my juices. "That's it," he groaned, feeling me clench around him.

I came undone, spine arching off the bed, pressing down on his working hand. He withdrew in time for me to gush and moan in both pleasure and embarrassment.

Wilted and boneless, I laid on the bed, gasping for breath. To tease once more, he ran his tongue through my soaked cleft, glazing his arrogant smirk with my arousal.

"Stop gloating and get inside me—" His mouth slanted over mine, his muscular body sprawled above me.

Rubbing his long, swollen cock, he chafed the head between the crevice of my hot sex. Skin-on-skin and misted in perspiration, we wrapped together as he entrenched himself, wedging deep. "If you ever, ever," he husked, holding my head, "leave me again..."

"I don't want to be anywhere else, Liam." I softly kissed his lower lip, meeting his slow, meaningful thrusts. "You. Every day. Every night. Your equal."

He liked that last part. He smiled against my lips, ignored his vibrating phone and worshipped my body. "When you..." Died, I mentally thought. "I imagined this moment more times than my pride will let me admit."

I laughed amid a shuddered moan. "Me writhing beneath you?"

"Fuck, yeah." He wound a hand under my knee, unfolding me so that he can drill deeper. "I pictured those mesmerising eyes and this," he swept a thumb across my lips, "beautiful smile."

How could I refuse this man?

How could I neglect him?

"Let me ride you, Liam." With a little persuasion, he rolled us until he laid on his back, hands touring my thighs. I stationed my hands on his magnificent, chiselled chest and pounded myself on his length. "Oh, shit." I was senile to think I could take him like this. He's too big, a size I endeavoured but failed to get used to, especially in this position.

"Slow down." He held my middle section, thumbs tweaking my nipples. "Remember what I said, baby. Hurting yourself to accommodate a man is a common misconception, and he'd be disrespectful to demand otherwise." I slowed my pace, adjusting to him. He licked his lower lip, eyes never straying from my face. "Perfect." He sat taller, sheathing me in his powerful arms. "Fucking beautiful."

I caught my breath, held it. "Stop looking at me like that."

"Like what?" He nipped my bottom lip, licked the pain away. "Like a man in love."

Knees positioned on the mattress, I twisted my hips, feeling another orgasm rising. He growled, tugging me down his length, holding me to his pelvis as I convulsed.

On a throaty keen, I put my head to his shoulder, but the military chain dangling from his neck smacked me out of a paralysing haze.

Liam removed my engraved white gold tag.

He laid me beneath him, thrusting back home, chasing his release. I felt numb, heartbroken. Still, I coiled my trembling thighs around his pumping waist, walls clenching with each stroke he delivered, completely powerless and at his mercy.

"I can't stop loving you." He filled me, tearing an involuntary moan from my mouth. His fingers bruised my hips as he held me down, cock pummelling in and out, headboard clattering against the wall.

And when he released with three warm spurts, his arms folded around me, keeping me close, as if fearing I'd vanish the second he let go.

Confirming my thoughts, Liam lifted his hooded gaze, eyes searching mine. "Alexa," he whispered, setting our sweat dusted foreheads together.

"I know, Liam."

He sagged above me, resting his head on my chest.

I stroked the back of his neck with delicate fingertips, listening to the winds howling outside.

He found my wrist, kissed each finger and interlaced our hands together.

I was comforted by his nearness. "Do you promise to love me forever?"

It was a light-hearted test. I knew he didn't make promises.

Quietness lingered before he said, "Always."

My lips widened into a smile. "Always, always?"

Easing out of me, Liam moved and stretched out alongside me, propping onto one elbow. He splayed his hand over my stomach, pausing over my thunderous heartbeat. "For as long as you'll have me."

"Then," I teased, mirroring his position, "forever isn't long enough."

Seriousness replaced his humoured expression. He pinched my chin between his thumb and forefinger, kissing me hungrily. "I am waking up with you," he tells me, and I nod. "I don't plan to leave this bed, Alexa. I hope you can handle that."

I wanted nothing more.

His phone chimed repeatedly.

Enraged, he threw his legs over the bed, picked up his trousers and palmed his phone. I don't know who messaged, but whoever it was, displeased him.

Nerves prickled my damp skin. "Is everything okay?"

He turned off his phone, chucked it on the floor. "Yeah," he lied, crawling back to my side. "Now, where were we?"

His feigned insouciance concerned me. It's a potent reminder that tonight, although it meant the absolute world to me, doesn't change anything.

There are still lies between us, troubling secrets and segregating disturbances.

"Get rid of it," he orders in that low, commanding voice that I love. "We earned this moment together, Alexa."

Slapping on a fake smile, I cocked my leg across his middle, lowered a hand between us and stroked his semi-hard cock. He jerked in my hand, swelling at my touch. "I think I underestimated how much I missed him."

"Well," he rasped, "he most certainly missed you." I tugged, and his head fell back on a throaty groan. "Alexa."

I kissed his throat, feeling his Adam's apple bobbing. "How badly do you want my mouth on him?"

He slapped my ass cheek. "Quit acting like a fucking tease and own me."

My core tightened. I peppered kissed down his chest, following that dark strip of hair south, to that magnificent, well-defined V-line.

Relaxing on his back, he outstretched his legs, watching me nestle for him through lust-filled eyes. I parted my mouth around his glistening crown, flattening my tongue along the underside of his thick, pulsating shaft.

"Fuck, baby." He grappled the sheets with white-knuckled force. "Christ, I missed this."

Don't overthink it, Alexa.

Don't ask questions that you won't like the answers to.

His chest expanded on a harsh inhale, fingers tangling in my hair, tugging painfully,

Hollowing my cheeks, I sucked, hard and brutal, swirling and tasting pre-ejaculate on my tongue.

I don't care what Liam says about going at a suited pace. He's rough in bed, fucks me violently and unmercifully, but when it is my turn to return the favour or lead, he settles.

And I am not that coy, timidly unsure woman anymore.

I relaxed my throat and took his length with determined suctions. The second I gagged, he jerked to sit up. I sank my fingernails in his thighs, and he hissed. "Alexa..."

Cupping and massaging his sac, I engulfed his elongating cock, swallowing beads of pre-cum, moaning favourably.

He can forget about all that meaningless, mechanical intercourse with other women. I am back, and I'll be damned if some snooty do-gooder thinks she can sweep in and take my place.

Liam lowers those impenetrable walls for me and me only. He offered himself to me before. Judging by what we shared tonight, his feelings haven't changed.

His muscular thighs bunched up, and a prolonged moan vibrated in his heaving chest.

I double-fisted him, pumped hard, licked those angry veins and sucked him back down my throat.

"Baby," he growled on a ragged breath. "Fuck. You're making me cum."

Warm semen coated my tongue as his cock emptied in my mouth. I didn't stop until I drained him dry, swallowing every last drop.

It took so much willpower not to grin like a triumphant fool!

Liam seized my forearm, tugging me across his lifeless body. "You killed me." He swept sweat-slicked hair from my face. "Why don't we shower together?"

I hummed a tired response.

"It's early." He stretched an arm between us, fingers seeking and caressing my wet sex. "Let's spend the entire day in bed, order food and drink and watch some shit television."

His finger pushed inside me, and I shivered. "Liam..."

"Of course, there will be plenty of orgasms, Alexa." He added another finger. "For you."

I beamed like a lovesick idiot. "That's hardly fair."

Kissing me tenderly, he angled my head, tongue lazily entering my mouth. "Sit on my face so that I can devour this cunt."

I am going to kill him. "Must you speak with such vulgarity?"

His shoulders shook as he stifled an amused chuckle. "You wouldn't deny me."

The smug bastard is right.

I rode his face before sunrise.


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