Grievous (Scarlet Scars #2)(7)

He grips harder this time, though, fisting handfuls.

A few seconds pass before he bucks his hips, my nose pressing into his stomach as he holds my head still, fucking my throat. A few thrusts, as I gag, before I feel him spilling. I swallow, grasping his hips to brace myself, but breathing is becoming difficult.

I give him a few seconds, holding my breath, but my chest is tight and he’s not letting go, so I pinch his inner thigh. Hard.

He flinches, shoving away. I fall back onto my ass and inhale sharply.

“Christ, that hurt,” he says, rubbing the spot I pinched.

“Oh, quit whining,” I mutter. “I could’ve just bit you... or, you know, punched you in the balls.”

He glares at me when I say that, giving me an ‘I’d like to see you fucking try’ look, trying to be intimidating, but it’s kind of hard to take him seriously when his cock is just hanging out of his pants.

I smirk. “You know, you’d probably be a lot scarier if your junk wasn’t dangling all up in my face.”

Before the last syllable is completely out of my mouth, he steps toward me, grabbing his cock. “Keep talking shit, I’ll fucking slap you with it.”

Laughing, I throw my hands up defensively, warding him off as he swings it, shoving it right at my face, smacking me in the forehead.

“Oh my god,” I yell, still laughing, shoving him so hard he staggers. “What is wrong with you?”

He shrugs, tucking himself away, zipping his pants up. “You sucked the brain cells right out of my dick with that goddamn Dyson mouth.”

Turning, he starts to walk away from me when I grab his leg. “Whoa, where are you going?”

“To take a shower,” he says, trying to shake me off.

“Oh, hell no,” I say, tugging him back toward me. “I’m not done with you yet.”

He thrusts his leg out, damn near kicking me so I’ll let go. “What do you want?”

“Some reciprocation would be nice,” I say, “but I’ll settle for just knowing what you said in Italian.”

He pauses as he starts to undress, stripping out of his suit, like reciprocation may not only happen but that it might go even further. “I said I’ve been fantasizing about those beautiful lips wrapped around my cock since the moment I met you.”

“Seriously?”

He crouches down in front of me, wearing only his unbuttoned black slacks. “Yes, seriously, my sweet little trombamica.”

“What does that mean?”

A slow smile spreads across his face as he leans closer, kissing me softly, quick pecks on my lips, before he stands back up, saying, “Figure it out, Scarlet.”

“Figure it out, Scarlet,” I grumble mockingly as he goes into the bathroom and shuts the door, leaving me kneeling here. Rolling my eyes, I get up and head straight downstairs to where Leo and Melody still hang out in the living room.

Leo looks up at me when I appear. He has questions, I know, but I’m not in the mood to talk about those things, so I beat him to speaking.

“Hey, Leo, you know what a trombamica is?”

His eyes widen. “Uh, yeah...”

“What is it?”

“It’s a... friend.”

“A friend.”

“Yeah,” he says, “one with benefits.”

“A friend with benefits.”

“Just a, uh, more vulgar term.”

My eyes narrow.

Leo’s about to say something else, but I don’t give him the chance, walking back out and stomping upstairs. Unbelievable. I hear the water running in the bathroom and don’t even hesitate, opening the door and walking right in since he never locks anything.

Grabbing the shower curtain, I fling it open, glaring at a naked, soapy Lorenzo. “A fuck-buddy? Really?”

He stands beneath the spray, water cascading down his bare chest. It distracts me momentarily, detracting from my anger, as I follow the trail of water down his body.

“Didn’t take you long to figure it out, trombamica.”

I scowl, looking back at his face. He’s grinning. Smug son of a—ugh. Before I can respond, he grabs me, yanking me beneath the spray. I nearly trip over the edge of the tub as he pulls me into it with him, fully dressed.

“What the hell, Lorenzo? You’re getting me wet!”

“Don’t I always?” he asks with a laugh, grabbing my drenched clothes and tearing them off, flinging them onto the floor before drawing the shower curtain closed again. He shoves me back against the tile wall, and I gasp as he grabs my thighs, lifting me up. I wrap my legs around his waist, my arms around his neck, holding onto him. “Guess I owe you some reciprocation, huh?”

“You’re damn right you do,” I say. “You better make it good, too.”

He grins, kissing me, whispering against my lips, “I’ll do my best.”





Chapter Three





“You son of a bitch,” I growl, squinting, hunkered beneath the glowing lamp in the library with my gaze fixed to my lap. “I swear to God, if you don’t go in that fucking hole, I’m going to lose my shit...”

Carefully, I aim, lining up for what feels like the twentieth goddamn time, but my hand slips right past my target, once again, instead somehow making me stab myself in the thumb.