Page 224 of Fatality

I stop abruptly and release his cock with a wet pop, a thin thread of saliva connecting my lips to his cock.

His head snaps back toward me, his eyes glowing with barely controlled fury.

“Who. Told. You. To. Stop.” His voice is devoid of any warmth.

“Now you know how it feels to be denied.”

I wink, knowing well I’m signing my own death warrant.

His grip on my hair tightens just enough to hurt.

I hiss through my teeth and try to stand up.

“Oh, is that so?” His voice drops to a conspiratorial murmur.

He yanks me down, forcing me to go back on my knees.

“Yes.”

“Let's see about that.” His smile returns, but it makes my skin crawl.

CHAPTER 48

Riven

Pain & Pleasure – Ally Bakst

Evren stalks toward the reception, I hear him pushing everything away on the floor while I’m still on my knees.

What the hell is he doing?

I don’t even have time to realize or ask that he is already back, completely naked, his jeans and boxers discarded on the side with his shirt.

My eyes widen and my breath catches. Heat floods my face, spreading down my neck and across my chest.

Scars—old ones and new ones. A roadmap of violence and survival.

His tattoos don't stop at his shoulders. Thin black lines extend across his collarbones and onto the upper part of his chest, seamlessly connecting the sleeves over his shoulders.

The blackwork blooms from the center of his chest like something ancient taking root beneath his skin. Vein-like branches spread across the sternum, flowing beneath the pectorals and over the ribs in fluid tendrils that follow the body's natural contours, giving the impression of living ink still creeping outward.

The darkness parts at the center of the abdomen, leaving the muscles exposed while framing them with organic tendrils. Along the V-line, sleek cyber-tribal blackwork rises from each hip in sharp, thorn-like spikes, creating the illusion of living barbs that naturally accentuate the obliques.

It feels more than a tattoo, it resembles a beautiful corruption—an organic force spreading across his torso, equal parts elegant, primal, and unsettling.

Fuck. It's beautiful.

I don't have time to process it before he's on me, bending down, sliding his hands to my bare hips and lifting me.

My legs wrap around his bare waist on instinct.

“You wanted to play, little troublemaker?” he asks, then delivers a sharp slap to my ass.

I cry out.

“You were the first one to fuck around.”

His grin turns feral.