The Perfect Stroke (Lucas Brothers #1)(119)

“I’m going to f*ck you, Ana, and fill you with my cum, branding you from the inside, out.”

Her head comes up to look at me, her eyes round and she’s biting her lip. “Hurry,” she gasps, and that’s all the encouragement I need.

I brace myself on her knees, which are bent back against her body, and thrust inside her. Her muscles immediately clench my cock tight, rippling around it in a way that I know I won’t be able to hold on for very long. I pull out and then thrust back inside, firm. When I’m seated deep inside of her, I grind down on her *. Her body shudders beneath me and she cries out my name as another orgasm pummels her body—this one much bigger. Over and over I ram in and out of her, riding her hard. I can feel the heat run through my dick and my cum releasing into her.

“After I’m done,” I breathe, “I’m going to f*ck you again.”

“Yes. God, yes,” she whimpers.

“Then, sweet Ana, I’ll pull out and come all over this body,” I tell her, stroking her stomach with my hand and envisioning my cum all over the creamy white skin. I’m shuddering as my climax moves through me, but I want to hold off, not give in completely until I give her the words that will show her just how obsessed I am. “I’ll pull out and come all over this body,” I repeat, “just so there’s no f*cking doubt that you are, in fact,” I take a breath right before I trust back into her, “mine.”

I give in to the demand of my climax and let stream after stream of my cum jet inside of her, painting her f*cking womb with my seed. I know it and I own it. I want her pregnant. I want Ana f*cking tied to me, unable to get away. I collapse to the side of her, my head on her breast. I shiver as my dick slides from her body. My hand goes to her * and I hold it there, holding my cum inside of her, not wanting one drop to leave her.





Roman’s headed to the nightclub. I watch him until the elevator doors close and enjoy the dark knowing smile he wears as he watches me. I’m wearing nothing but his white buttoned-up shirt, which is too big for me. My hair is rumpled because he just f*cked me to an inch within my life. My body is deliciously sore and I wish he wasn’t leaving. When the doors close, I take a deep breath and fall back on the Italian leather sofa. The damn thing is so soft, it should be illegal. I close my eyes and try to get a grip on my emotions, just like I do every time Roman leaves me.

I’ve been living with Roman in this apartment for two weeks now. Two weeks of his constant attention and being his woman have altered me in ways I never expected. Honestly, we’ve settled into a routine, and if only it wasn’t built on lies and deceit, I would be completely happy.

I’ve been ignoring Paul’s summons. He’s getting more insistent. Roman almost caught one of his 911 texts last night from the small prepaid cell I keep. I hid the phone in a bunch of towels and distracted him with sex. I seem to distract Roman a lot with sex.

I’ve been putting it off, but I’ll have to touch base with Paul and I’m dreading it. He’ll want to know if I’ve planted the coke and set up a sting. I haven’t and I don’t think I can. I’m just dreading the conversation with Paul.

I grab the cell from my purse and text Paul:



Cloverfield Medical Complex. 2 p.m.



Even setting up the meeting twists my gut. I’m apparently going to Roman’s physician to get checked out today. He informed me it’s something we should have done weeks ago, but I make him forget his rules. He’s already shown me the clean bill of health the doctor gave him and I guess this is my turn. I want to be offended, but let’s face it, in today’s world that’s smart. Probably way too late, considering we’re f*cking like bunnies every chance we get, but whatever. Besides, I can’t hardly be offended since I’m lying to him every time I turn around.

That’s starting to bother me too. They warned me you can go too deep undercover, so deep that you start to lose sight of who you are and become the person you’re portraying. The thing is, in this case, I’m being me. The real Ana. The Ana that I’ve kept hidden since I was the scared sixteen year old that Paul Banks saved. When I’m with Roman, it’s not about being someone I don’t know; it’s all about letting my guard down and showing him who I am. Which is crazy. Completely crazy.

Roman swears he’s doing his best to help me with my brother. He hasn’t shown me proof, but I still find myself believing him, which makes me wonder if I didn’t have Roman Anthes pegged wrong to begin with. He’s becoming more relaxed around me, so much so that in this past week, he’s even beginning to talk business in front of me. Not a lot, but little things, enough for me to understand he’s brokering a deal with the Russian mob. That should terrify me—and maybe it does—but not enough to turn me away from him.

My phone vibrates. I look at the text with a feeling of dread:



About f*cking time. I’ll be there.



The more I see the words, the more I want to vomit. I clear off all history of the texts and bury my phone back in my purse. I can’t put this off any longer. I jump in the shower. It’s a busy day and I don’t have time to waste. I’ve got the doctor’s appointment, the fight with Paul (and it will be a fight), and then tonight I’m accompanying Roman to a dinner party. He bought me the sexiest, barely-there little black dress I have ever seen. I’m all set, but I’m a nervous wreck about it, too. I may need medication to survive today. That’s my last thought as I go jump in the shower.