The Fall of East: Book 3 in the Hear No Evil Trilogy Malone, Nana (good fiction books to read .TXT) 📖

lingered over her bottom lip, I knew I wasn't going to be able to stop. I needed to let her go so she could storm back out into the bar.

But instead, I watched as she swallowed hard, and then her gaze slid over my shoulders, my pecs, further down my chest and my abs, and yup... trained right on my steel-like dick. Because he was here for that program. The one where she licked her lips and looked at me like I was her last meal.

Absolutely on board. 

"Nyla." My voice was a raspy whisper.

"I hate you."

"Well, I don’t hate you, so you need to stop looking at me like that, or I'm going to do something about that itch you've got."

Her gaze stayed on my dick as if to say, I dare you.

"Nyla, I'm warning you."

"Is this one of those times that you tell me what's good for me?”

"It looks like you want me to remind you."

And then I released the reins. No more control. No more carefully crafted rules and ways to keep her safe. She wanted me to take, so I was going to take. There was no preamble, no slow slide. No delicate nibbling. My lips crashed down on hers, and I unleashed all the frustration I'd been holding in. She grabbed tightly onto me, holding on, and I knew neither one of us were going to be the same after this.

* * *

Nyla

East had no business tasting this good or smelling this good. Or God, why did his hands feel like perfection? It wasn't fair. I didn't want it to feel this good.

Then what are you doing here? You could've talked to him when he came home.

I tried to ignore my rational mind. Because the way East's tongue was sliding over mine was frying brain cells by the second. And nothing to do other than to respond. Than to kiss him back and just give in. It was too hard to fight. Oh, I was still angry. All the mads. Super mad. But I needed this like I needed to breathe. He was my oxygen after surfacing from the water, that beloved lifeblood.

His hand slid into my hair, fisting just tight enough to let me know that he was in control, causing a sweet ache but not enough to hurt me at all.

His lips and tongue were punishing as they slid over mine, demanding a response, and we're tangled limbs as we backed out of the hallway and into the private room. With one hand he released me and reached behind him to do something. And then I heard the click of the lock.

We started moving again. One step, two steps, three steps, counter. Oh, shit.

With a muffled groan he picked me up easily, his big hands releasing my hair to slide down my body to my thighs and tug them apart before stepping between them.

His erection was revelatory, already knowing where I needed him to press. Like a pussy-seeking missile as I moaned and sought to get closer to it. This was what I’d been missing. That stinging need to feel wanted, to feel seen. I didn’t want any of his coddling bullshit. I wanted to be treated like what I was, a woman, his partner. And God, the way his dick twitched against me told me he had every intention of showing me just how much he wanted me.

For a moment he stilled, and I snapped my head up to gaze up at him. I could see the war in his eyes, those beautiful moss-green eyes. He was fighting this. He was fighting me.

Or was he?

His gaze searched me as if he was trying to catalog everything about my face. My brow, my eyes, my nose, my jawline, my neck. The slow perusal made me tingle, and my nipples pinched to tight little buds.

His gaze slid down and he noticed them. His lips tilted into that oh-so-familiar smirk, making me even angrier. I tried to shove him back, but I didn't budge him at all.

Matter of fact, it only made him laugh.

I could hurt him. Force him to move. But you don't really want that, do you?

Well, there was a part of me that did want that. If he wasn't going to give me what I wanted then— His lips were back in another bruising, demanding kiss. And this time he was swiveling his hips just so, making his dick press up against my clit, and I gasped as he said, "This is mine."

"Shut the fuck up."

He laughed again before sliding his hands back into my hair.

More kissing. More tongue, more lips, more teeth. A few groans and whimpers too.

When he dragged his lips away, kissing along my jaw and down to my neck, his hands slid down to the hem of my sweater, sliding up and over my skin, his thumbs tracing each of my ribs before hitting pay dirt.

When he palmed my breasts, he groaned into my neck. "Fuck, Nyla. You're killing me."

I could show him killing. Very deliberately, I swiveled my hips, rotating round and round and then up and down along the length of him.

I could feel him shaking.

Yeah, two can play this game.

And then it was a flurry of arms, legs, and tongues, as sure, strong hands tugged my sweater over my head.

Then he pulled back and he put his gaze down to my breasts. "Fucking hell. Do you know how hard it's been not to attack these every day? You’re always walking around the flat with no bloody clothes on. I have been dying to suck them, touch them, fuck them.”

"East."

I reach for him, grabbing for his belt. I made quick work of the buckle, desperate now, so goddamn desperate for any touch of connection, any chance to return to the East and Nyla of just a couple weeks ago. When we'd been us.

The ‘us’ you refer to is extremely tumultuous.

I wasn't going to think about that.

I was just going to let him make me feel good.