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“I want you to rub your hands all over your body. Close your eyes. Savor the feel of your fingers dusting over your soft skin. Your stomach. Your thighs.”
Watching the screen, her hands roam her body as her soft breaths blowing through the phone become heavier. “That’s it. Let me hear how good it feels as you rub over your tits and play with those tight pink nipples.”
Her sweet whimpers echo through the phone and it takes everything I have not to head upstairs and replace her hands with mine. As much as I would love to tease her and prolong her release, I want her to come—nearly as much as she does—so I can finish here and join her.
“I want you to keep playing with your nipple as you rub your other hand over the soft lips of your cunt.” I continue to watch her follow every instruction. “You’re so fucking perfect. So beautiful, pleasing yourself for me.”
Muting the phone, I turn my attention to the Bratva sitting in an ever-growing puddle of blood. “And you thought I’d let you fucking take this from me?”
No one will ever take her from me.
“Press your fingers inside your sweet cunt as you think about my cock. Or my tongue as your rub your fingers over your swollen clit,” I groan into the phone. “But I fucking need to hear you come for me.”
My good girl does as she’s told, plunging two fingers into her cunt and rubbing her arousal over her clit. She rolls her nipple as she relentlessly works her clit until her sweet whimpers are replaced with ravenous moans. I watch her lose control, her back arching and toes curling as euphoria washes over her.
I need to be inside her.
“You did so fucking good for me,” I praise. “Do you feel better?”
“Yes,” she breathlessly mumbles.
“Good. I’ll be there within the hour. Make sure you wait up for me, mo cuishle. It’ll be worth it.”
Hanging up the phone and shoving it back into the pocket of my trousers, I tear the tape from the Bratva’s mouth. I brandish my knife and repeat my question to him a final time.
“Pakhan wants your whore to suffer. To send you a lesson,” he spits.
“You came here to hurt her?”
He furls his lip and sneers. “I came to give to give that little whore upstairs what she is waiting for.”
Blinded with rage, I lose all semblance of control and shove my knife into his gut. I twist the blade and widen his wound. He gurgles as blood pools into his mouth and out of his body. “We won’t stop…coming…for her.”
“And I’ll send each of you to hell,” I grit the words through my teeth as I yank the blade through his abdomen, splitting him open. He gags for air, and I shove his severed fingers into his open mouth, forcing them down his throat and further limiting his ability to breathe. Choking around them and drowning in his own blood, he’s dead in under a minute.
Using the sink beside his body, I wash his blood from my hands and arms. I send a quick text to Cillian and Kieran as I wait for the elevator.
Take care of the shit in the basement.
I’ll watch over her the rest of the night.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
LAYLA
Hearing a gentle knock on the door, I leap from the bed and wrap my robe around me before heading to the door. I quickly glance through the peephole to ensure it’s Tristan and open the door. He walks inside and proceeds to close and lock it without saying a word.
He silently stalks toward me with a devilish glint in his eyes and slips his fingers under the sash holding my short, floral rope shut. Toying with the silk belt, he takes his time slipping the single knot and pulling it inch by inch from the loops. He holds on to the sash and delicately slides the robe from my shoulders, causing it to flutter down my arms and pool at my feet.
Left standing naked before him, he lifts the silk belt in front of my face and softly instructs, “Close your eyes.”
I do as he asks, and the soft fabric brushes against my face. Lifting my hands, my fingers roam over the silk covering my eyes, following it around the sides of my head to the knot Tristan has just tied.
“I want you focused on my touch and my words.” His warm whisper blows over the back of my ear as his knuckles lightly dust down my arms. His lips press to the crook up my neck, and he peppers a trail of wet kisses back up to my ear. “My hands rubbing over your body. How my lips and tongue can flutter softly over your skin, but also how I suck and tease you until you’re a whimpering mess.”
His hands slide from my body. Followed by his lips as I’m left in the dark, forced to allow my other senses to take over. The only sounds filling the apartment are my heavy breaths of anticipation, the faint whirl of the ceiling fan, and the soft rustling sound I can’t place.
I startle when Tristan pulls me flush to his hard, naked body. My hands press against his firm chest, and my fingers dust over the swirls of ink hidden by my blindfold. As I trace the invisible lines from memory, his calloused hands roam the length of my spine. He pauses briefly to palm my ass before gripping my thighs and pulling me around his waist.
