Empire of Hate (Empire #3) by Rina Kent

To say I haven’t thought about this moment before would be a blatant lie, but never in my wildest dreams did I imagine that it would lead to this.

I’m completely and utterly out of my depth here.

“You did?” His eyes have darkened, turning pools of deep blue. Then he wipes his finger beneath my lower lip with sudden harshness. “Did these venomous lips open for a cock before? Did they get swollen and red like when you ate those deadly peaches because you liked them? Did you suck and deep-throat a limp dick with these same lips, hmm?”

I can’t inhale air properly. His words have stolen my oxygen and sanity and everything in between.

Just how can he sound so damn hot when he says such filthy words? Under different circumstances, I would be saying, “Eww, gross,” but I can’t even speak now. And gross is the last feeling inside me.

He takes my silence as a challenge, though. Or maybe an acceptance, because his touch turns more explorative, harsh even.

“You won’t remember any other cock once I’m done with you.”

He releases me and before I can miss the contact, he pulls his shirt over his head, then kicks his jeans and boxer briefs away.

A sculptor couldn’t have made a body as perfect as Daniel’s. He has a cut abdomen that flexes with his movements, but he’s not too buff, not too in your face.

A model through and through.

No wonder scouts kept asking his mother to sign him to their agencies.

No wonder girls fell to their knees in front of him with no effort on his part.

No wonder I couldn’t move away from him.

I wish it was only because of his Greek god looks or charming traits. I wish I only saw his exterior and decided that was all I needed.

I wish I hadn’t dug my nose into him as much as I did and learned shit I should’ve never been privy to.

But I did.

And now, I’m too hopeless. Too involved.

Too…obsessed.

With everything about him—from the flutter of his lashes to the flexing of the tendons in his muscular shins.

Everything.

I wish he saw something in me, too—anything.

But if the only thing he sees right now is my body, then so be it.

One day, it’ll be more.

…Right?

Daniel flips me on my side and then lies opposite me. His cock juts in my face and his hot breaths are inches away from my pussy.


“This is called sixty-nine, Miss Prude. I’m going to devour your little pussy until I make you scream and you will open those lips and suck my cock like you do those lollipops when no one is looking.”

My eyes widen.

How the hell did he see that when I only do it in secret?

I don’t get a chance to think about it before he thrusts his hips so his thing is at my lips. Cock, I chastise myself. It’s called a cock, Nicole.

I slowly open my lips and he drives all the way in. My mouth is so full of him and I still don’t get it all in.

“Now, suck and make it good.”

I hear the challenge in his voice loud and clear, and I rise up to it like a moth who’s well aware that it’ll burn to death.

My tongue creates friction and I’m rewarded with a grunt. In my haste to do it faster, I graze him with my teeth.

The sound that comes out of him is nearly animalistic. “Don’t use teeth, Nicole. Hollow your cheeks, loosen your jaw, and do it faster.”

His order is like an aphrodisiac. My movements are less awkward and more determined as I suck him with everything in me.

“That’s it, Peaches. Good girl.”

I’m surprised my heart doesn’t spill on the mattress right here and now.

Shit.

Why did those two measly words coupled with that nickname feel as if he’s thrusting inside my core instead of my mouth?

I’m still pondering on the strange sensation his words elicited when he places an open-mouthed kiss on my pussy.

It’s so hard and intense that I physically jerk.

But I don’t release him. My mouth is still wrapped around his cock as he rocks his hips, driving in and out in a measured rhythm.

His teeth nuzzle on my soaked folds and then he bites down, making me choke on his girth.

Holy…

Why are my teeth not good for him, but his teeth make me feel like I’m about to explode into a million pieces?

His hot lips wrap around the bruised, sensitive flesh and then he’s sucking on it.

Licking, teasing, kissing.

The chain of events repeats again. Pain, then overwhelming pleasure.

And just when I’m about to get used to the rhythm, he thrusts his tongue inside my core.

It’s intrusive, yet intimate and erotic and so damn intense that I feel myself being rolled to the edge of something. What, I have no clue.

All I’m sure about is that it isn’t a mere orgasm. It’ll be the mother of all orgasms.

But I don’t allow myself to fall into it—not yet. I can’t lose to him.

So even if my thighs are trembling and my heart is about to explode from its confinement, I keep on licking and sucking.

It’s messy and awkward at best, but I don’t fall behind. When he twists my clit between his thumb and forefinger, I reach out to touch his balls.

The more he grunts against my opening, the harder I moan around his dick.

It’s a game.

A push and pull.

And we’re both not playing by the rules. In fact, there’s no such thing at this moment.