Page 71 of My Sunfall

He lifts his hand to grab my neck and pulls me down, deepening the kiss. Scorching heat is building low in my belly as I slide my tongue in his mouth, tangling it with his. I smile when he groans into my mouth. I lean back slightly.

“I think it worked.” I breathe against his lips, and he shivers, eyes wild. His pupils are so blown that there is barely any blue left around them. His hand is gripping my thigh almost painfully, and his breath comes out in short huffs.

“Fuck, I’m so fucked,” he rasps.

I drag my tongue over his parted lips, retreating playfully when he tries to kiss me back.

“Uh-uh, winner gets to do what they want,” I tease.

“Did we agree on that?” He groans low.

As a reply, I lean down to trail kisses along his jaw while I let my hands roam over him. His chest is a thing of dreams and I can’t help myself dragging his T-shirt up and sliding my hands over his ripped abs toward his nipples. I pinch one lightly, smiling when I hear his sharp intake of breath. Then I trail my mouth lower, taking a nipple in my mouth and sucking lightly. His low hiss is one of pure agony.

I lift my head. “Is this enough distraction? Or should there be…more?”

He quivers again beneath me. “More,” he rasps, chest heaving, swallowing hard.

I disentangle myself from his hands and slide lower along his body. Then I grab his jogging pants and pull them down his legs.

“Looks like I need to step up the game,” I tease, my voice sounding breathless in my ears.

His breathing is erratic now, his eyes crazed as they are locked on me and his fingers grapple helplessly at the mat, searching for purchase he can’t find. When I pull his boxer briefs down, he is already hard. His member is jutting up and pulsing. I settle between his legs and take his cock in my hands, slowly dragging my palm up and down the length. Precum is leaking from the tip, and I bend down to lick it off. He jerks with a hoarse shout, all his muscles coiled tight. I lick again, slower this time, chuckling from the pained groan he lets out. Then I take him in my mouth. He feels so good on my tongue. I swirl it around the tip a few times, then wrap my lips around his member to take him into my mouth, alternating between licking in long strokes and hollowing my cheeks to pull him in. He is so big that he pushes at the back of my throat, but still, I want more. I breathe, forcing my throat to relax and take him deeper.

“Fuck, cara mia, you’re killing me…. I…won’t last.” His words are choppy and the muscles of his neck are strained and taut like cords. He slides his fingers into my hair and lifts his hips to meet me halfway. I pick up speed, reveling in the sense of power it gives me over him, seeing him unravel, knowing I make him lose his control.

His breathing comes out in hard, uncontrolled rasps and deep groans, intertwined with incoherent praise words and encouragements. Pre-cum is flooding my mouth, salty and arousing.

“You are incredible…so perfect…your mouth is perfect…you drive me fucking insane.”

My pussy is throbbing with need, my panties are getting wetter by the second. I bob my head up and down faster now, letting his hands and voice guide me. I let my tongue glide over his cock in long strokes, trying to accommodate his size stretching my lips wide and the tip of him pushing at the back of my throat. His groans become louder. I suck harder as his grip tightens in my hair and he throws his head back, starting to shake all over. He spills down my throat with a loud roar. I gulp down every last drop while he shudders on and on, hands tugging painfully at my hair. Red-hot lust is engulfing me like a wildfire and I have to clench my thighs together to alleviate the throbbing of my pussy.

When I rise to sit on my heels, Lucas is breathing hard, and he is staring at me with a mix of awe, hunger and something dangerously close to adoration that makes my heart lurch in my chest. He sits up in a blink, grabs me with a low growl and pulls me flush against him. Then he kisses me like a dying man holding on to his last breath, before pushing me down onto the mat.

Chapter Forty-Seven

Lucas

The stench of blood hits my nostrils even before I step over the threshold. The warehouse is eerily silent, only the faint sound of the neon flickering overhead and the muted thuds of my steps over the concrete floor disrupt the silence.

I take the scene in—four of my men lie on the ground, shot dead. Their blood pools in dark stains on the concrete floor. One of them, Marco, is—was—one of my most trusted men.

“This was supposed to be a routine inspection,” I grit out. The men behind me don’t speak, their faces are grim. They know that someone has declared war on us.

I walk up to Marco’s body and crouch down to inspect his wounds. He has been shot in the knee and in the head. His eyes are open and staring at the ceiling. The entry wound on his forehead glares at me like an accusation.

I stand up and hit the group call button for D and Teo.

“We have a situation at the docks,” I say without preamble. “Four of our men were shot during a routine inspection of a shipment that wasn’t supposed to dock here. Teo, can you get me intel about the cargo? I’ll send you the details. The ship’s gone, and so is the crew. No trace of anyone involved, just empty crates and our men on the ground.” I hear cursing at the other end. “D, can you keep the authorities at bay? We need more time cleaning up. Someone must’ve heard the shots, it’s a wonder the place is not swarming with cops yet.”

“Got it,” comes his reply and I disconnect the call. Then I give my men instructions to take pictures of the scene and to look for any clues before removing the bodies.

While I stand outside and wait for the cleaning to wrap up, my mind runs in circles, trying to figure out who could have attacked our crew, on our turf. Whoever they are, they have either been reckless, or this is a declaration of war. One of my men walks up to me and hands me a crumpled sheet of paper. The shipping manifest. I scan it quickly—port of origin Naples, FL. Obviously fake since there is no major freight port in Naples and my men are monitoring the small industrial docks used for shadow shipments. They reported no recent transiting shipment. So where did this shipment come from, and what did it transport?

I slip the manifest in my coat pocket and turn around to walk to my car. Time to check the security footage.

* * * *

The conference room in Teo’s secure building, The Bastion, smells of coffee when I step inside and seal the soundproof door behind me. The walls are lined with screens, all glowing with data Teo has been undoubtedly pulling since my call—port maps, satellite feeds, shipment logs. There are also the pictures from the shooting scene I’ve sent him earlier.