Page 25 of Coveted By Cupid

When the last few flutters of my release fade away, the biker looks up from between my legs. His mouth and beard glisten in the dim light with my slick. I stare back, panting and spent.

Cupid gives me that smug smile, proud of being the first man to make me comfortable enough to enjoy getting head.

Slowly he removes his fingers from inside me. I whimper, missing the fullness instantly. I’m about to offer to get him a towel from the bathroom, but he surprises me again when he lifts his fingers to his lips and sucks them into his mouth.

His eyes close on a groan, like he truly enjoys the taste of me on his tongue. I stare, open-mouthed.

When Cupid opens his eyes again, there’s a fire there that makes me break out into a new flush.

“You’re the sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted.” He crawls up my body, holding my gaze. “Want to taste yourself on me?”

Holy hell! Where did this man come from?

I reach for him the same moment he grabs the back of my neck, capturing my lips with his.

Tasting myself on his mouth as his tongue rolls against mine has me aching with need. I moan into his mouth, loving the mess we’re making of each other.

Pulling back from my lips, Cupid lays his forehead against mine. “Take me out,” he orders gruffly.

My fingers fumble with his zipper when there’s knocking at my apartment door.

CHAPTER NINE

CUPID

Vanessa goes stiff beneath me, looking at the door with a creased brow.

After the moment we had, I’m not happy with her attention being anywhere but on me. “Expecting anyone?”

She looks back at me with worried eyes. “Not at this hour. Maybe they have the wrong apartment? They’ll go away if we ignore them.”

Fine by me. Picking up where we left off, I lean in to kiss her.

The knocking starts again, more insistent.

“Vanessa Baby! I know you’re home. Please, let me in so we can talk.”

My head whips to the door, eyes narrowing. “The fuck?”

Who the hell is calling my woman baby and wanting to speak with her at this time of night? Whoever it is, referring to Vanessa with a pet name is fighting words.

Vanessa groans, covering her face with her hands. “Dammit, Boden,” she mutters under her breath.

“Boden,” I growl, understanding this is the jackass ex. He was already on my shit-list for hurting Vanessa, but cock-blocking me has landed him in the number one slot.

“Cupid, don’t,” Vanessa hisses when I slip out of bed, as if she could discourage me with a harsh tone.

Not a chance. I’m going to set this idiot straight, with my words or fists—I’m fine with either or both.

She rushes after me, but I halt her with a warning glare.

“Cover up, Butterfly,” I tell her, half growling with how possessive I feel at the mere thought of anyone other than myself seeing her naked. “This motherfucker will not see what’s mine.”

She spins in a frantic circle, looking for something to conceal her nakedness, settling on my t-shirt. Her slight frame is swimming in it, but my chest puffs out with pride having her wear my clothes with my scent. It’s going to send one hell of a message when I open the front door to her ex.

Before she can reach me, I’m unlocking the cheap door, swinging it wide open.

A stereotypical douche canoe with one of those ridiculous alpaca puff hairstyles all the preppy college boys have these days stands on the other side of the threshold. His eyes nearly bug out of his head when he sees me standing in his ex’s apartment, shirtless, jeans open, and blocking his view of Vanessa.