| BOOK SIX | THE LONDON CRIME KING | A DARK MAFIA ROMANCE NOVEL |
This book contains adult language and subject matter, including graphic violence, drugs and explicit sex that may be disturbing to some readers.
This series is NOT a typical romance...
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Emma Hughes is the epitome of perfection. I am weak for her green eyes, the curve of her infectious smile and the distinctiveness of her contagious laughter. Every beauty spot on her skin. Too many to count. Yet, I guesstimated the profusion of each brown mark throughout the night when familiarising myself with the sinful shape of her flawless body because I wanted to memorise the details most men overlooked or deemed insignificant.
Irresistible.
Dangerous.
Mine.
My girl is dangerously beautiful and irresistibly addictive. If I was not unquenchably thirsty, kissing her delectable lips like a starved man, so fucking hungry for more, I was lost in the erogenous zones of her body, between her splayed thighs, the sweetest taste of sin on my tongue.
Emma is stretched out on the bed. Her thighs spread apart, her fingers tugging the strands of my hair at the roots as she ground herself against my mouth. Her pussy, silky smooth and dripping cum, contracted around my fingers. Suckling the swollen nub of her sensitive clit, I slipped another digit through her plump folds with an effortless dexterity, feeling her pulse uncontrollably.
My girl is naughty. I never imagined a night of passion and sex when she knocked on the room door last night. Hopeful, yes, but expectations were relatively low, especially after the first round, when she swore her cunt was out of business.
I figured she'd wait for several days before she demanded more.
Not this beauty.
She is desperate.
I am a willing participant and happy to be of service.
Her fingers tousled my hair, clutching harshly, her hips lifting off the mattress in search of a release. Her pussy begged to be eaten, to be filled to the brim.
Two fingers parting her smooth lips, the tip of my tongue caressed her nerve endings, up and down, side to side.
Stubble jaw grazing her inner thighs, I licked her slit with tantalising strokes, acutely aware of how much she craves continual stimulation.
My hand flattened on her lower stomach to restrain her movements, keeping her firm to the mattress, where the soaked, creased sheet bunched messily beneath her biteable rear end.
I nipped, sucked and kissed her arse cheek, her soft skin puce with blood-red love bites. I have ruined her body, leaving marks wherever I could so she could see them later, a possessive reminder of who she belonged to. Me. Only me. Christ, I am one lucky man.
"Yes." Her thighs trembled involuntarily. "Yes, Brad. Fuck. Yes."
My low-lidded gaze coasted over the graceful curves of her body.
Her lush breasts, held by the delicate grasp of her fingers, jounced beautifully. Her spine anchored in rapture with every flick of my tongue to her pussy.
