Brutal Vows (Queens & Monsters #4)(65)

“It’s not. It’s never okay. I—”

“You’re not him,” I interrupt. “You’ll never be him. That was an accident, which is very different. Okay?”

I know I was right about what he was thinking when he hangs his head and hides his face in my neck. He whispers, “I’ll kill anyone who ever hurts you. Including myself.”

“I’ll remember that the next time your ego flattens me. Also, that’s disturbing.”

“It’s true.”

I say crossly, “I don’t ever want to hear you talk about hurting yourself. I don’t like it. The only person who’s allowed to hurt you around here is me.”

He lifts his head and peers at me.

I warn, “Don’t you dare say another word, Quinn.”

“I have to. Because that almost sounded like you care.”

I close my eyes and growl in frustration.

He kisses my neck and whispers into my ear, “Tell me you care if I live or die, viper.”

Pressed between my legs, his erection is hard, hot, and eager.

I realize with a sudden start that maybe I’m not the only one with a newly discovered praise kink.

My heart begins to pound. My breath hitches. I say tentatively, “I…um…of course I care if you die.”

“Why?” he challenges. “Because you won’t have anyone to insult anymore?”

Do I do this? Do I go ahead and try it and see what happens?

What’s the worst that can happen, you embarrass yourself a little more? Give the poor man a break, Reyna. He’s not asking you to donate a kidney!

I take a breath to steady my nerves. Then I reach up, thread my fingers into his hair, and say softly, “No. Because I won’t have this gorgeous face to look at anymore.”

He licks his lips. His breathing goes ragged. And I swear to God, that monster dick between us just twitched.

Encouraged, I continue. My hands drift down to his thick shoulders, then to his bulging biceps, which I squeeze. “Or these big strong muscles to touch.”

His pupils dilate until his eyes look black.

With a weird thrill running through my body, I move my hands to his back, stroking my palms over his smooth, warm skin. When my fingers graze the hard rounded swell of his ass, he shivers.

Looking deep into his eyes, I whisper, “Or this beautiful hard body to make me feel so safe and protected.”

The groan that escapes his lips is low and guttural. His eyelids drift shut. He rasps, “I don’t even care if you’re lying. That’s the hottest fucking thing any woman’s ever said to me.”

“I’m not lying. I’ve never felt safer before than I do right now, here with you. My gorgeous, masculine, badass Irishman who I haven’t stopped thinking about since the day we met.”

He’s wearing an expression I’ve only ever seen before on people right before they faint.

Hoping to avoid that outcome, I pull his head down for a kiss.

He kisses me back hungrily, sinking his fingers into my hair and rocking his pelvis against mine. We go at it until I’m squirming with need underneath him.

“You’re such a good kisser,” I say, panting. “I love the way you taste.”

He moans. “Jesus fucking holy hell, you’re trying to kill me.”

“Not at the moment. I’m just enjoying how delicious you are.”

His eyes roll back in his head.

“Will you please fuck me with that amazing fat cock of yours now? I love having it inside me.”

Very faintly, he says, “I’ve died and gone to heaven. That has to be it.”

The only word I can find to describe the feeling of his reaction to me praising him is power. Giving him what he needs makes me feel strong, bold, and powerful as fuck.

Is this what it feels like for him, too? When he calls me his good girl and I melt, does it make him feel this incredible? This euphoric?

This seen?

When he scrambles down my body, shoves his face between my legs, and starts to feast eagerly on my pussy, I decide it doesn’t matter. If he’ll do this every time I say something nice to him, I’m going to be a goddamn cookie dispenser from now on.

Sinking my fingers into his hair, I spread my legs wider and whisper, “I love your tongue, Quinn. That feels incredible.”

He moans into my flesh. His fingers dig into my hips. Stiff and bobbing, his cock hangs between his bent legs, the crown flushed a deep berry red. Veins stand out all over it. The tip glistens.

In a frenzy, his tongue lashes back and forth over my engorged clit.

Euphoria beating like a heartbeat inside me, I whisper, “Your cock is so gorgeous. So long and thick. Just looking at it excites me.”

He grips it in one hand and starts to play with it, pumping his hips as he strokes it from crown to base and back again, stopping once every so often to run his palm over his balls.

Close to orgasm, I moan. My fingers tighten in his hair. My hips move in time to the strokes of his wicked tongue. Making muffled sounds of pleasure as he eats me, he strokes his dick faster.

I arch my back and grind into his face helplessly. My nipples are hard and sensitive, aching for his mouth or his touch. When I tell him that, he moans, his eyes closed and his cheeks hollowed from sucking.

Watching him, I whisper raggedly, “You’re going to make me come. Please don’t stop that. I love it just like that. It’s perfect. You’re perfect. Quinn—oh—God—”