Page 36 of Brutal Revenge

Her mouth falls open as her eyes drink in my fisted dick and pre-cum-stained head. My balls are heavy with need, swinging between my splayed thighs, and my cock doesn’t understand limits when herOmouth inspires a flood of wicked thoughts.

She stares straight at me through the fogged shower glass, her expression a perfect blend of shock and intrigue.

This is when I should go still.

I don’t.

I jerk my hips upward, fucking my hand more than letting my hand do all the work.

Azra blinks once. Twice. A third time. Then her expression twists. She’s not embarrassed that she walked in on me yanking on my dick or flustered with need. Her expression shows pure, unfiltered disgust.

Her disdain hits like a slap, and I use the sting of her nonexistent touch to push me over the line. With my eye contact uninterrupted, thick white beads of cum shoot from the slit in my cock, smearing the glass wall separating us.

My strokes slow to the rhythm of the vein thudding in Azra’s neck as I milk my cock of every drop of my release, my chest heaving.

As my cum slides down the glass, Azra wipes, then flushes the toilet. The water temperature spikes instantly, scalding me. When I jerk back with a hiss, she snickers while moving to the vanity to wash her hands, maintaining eye contact like I’m the one who barged in on her.

She dries her hands with my towel, the motion brisk and irritating, then leaves without a word, the lock clicking into place behind her.

As I stand frozen, my skin still burning from the sudden heat, my cock reacts as if it didn’t achieve release mere seconds ago. The roomfeels too quiet and too empty now, but the echo of her disgust lingering in the air like a challenge gives me my biggest hard-on to date.

“Ben fatto, Azra. Ben fatto, cazzo,” I murmur to myself.

Her complete lack of interest—and absolute refusal to react the way anyone else would after walking in on a man masturbating—sends an electric jolt through me. It’s exciting and fresh and jumps my pulse in a manner I don’t like but also secretly crave.

Chapter 10

Azra

My brain short-circuits as I slam the door shut so fast that the frame rattles. I brace my back against it, palms flat against the grain as my heart pounds like I’ve sprinted a mile. I’m mortified. Horrified. And worse—stunned by my reaction.

I didn’t know I could be that cruel.

That intrusive.

That curious.

I squeeze my eyes shut. “Nope. No. Absolutely not. We’re deletingthatfrom memory.”

When Matteo mutters something in Italian that I’m pretty sure isn’t a compliment before shutting off the water, I push off the door.

As I pace the room, I try to erase the image of him stroking his dick from my mind. It’s no easy task. My god... that man is a machine made for pleasure. The way his moans echoed over the steady flow of water, and how his large hand didn’t diminish the size of his cock in the slightest, stimulated my senses.

He planted his feet at shoulder width as he rocked his erection in and out of his hand, as if he uses every muscle in his body to satisfy his bed companions.

Over and over, he moved his hand from the base to the tip. For a split second, I wished it were my hand pumping him. Then I remembered I was supposed to be mad at him.

He snapped at me last night after I woke him from what looked like a nightmare, but apparently, my subconscious didn’t get the message. I dreamed about him anyway. It was a dirty, full-penetration dream that woke me with that urgent, bursting-to-pee feeling I’ve never experienced before.

Well… except in the SUV yesterday, and look how that turned out. He left me hanging, and I’m still not over it.

When the bathroom door opens, I strive to subdue my racing pulse. Matteo steps out, towel slung low around his waist, hair dripping the same way pre-cum leaked from his cock when he busted my watch.

I force myself to look anywhere but at him.

“Morning,” he says, as if nothing happened.

“Morning,” I parrot, pretending I’m made of stone.