God of Fury (Legacy of Gods #5) by Rina Kent

“Fucking Christ, I love watching you come.” He growls before he fills me up with his cum.

I roll my hips, riding him until his cock deflates inside me, then I lift myself up and moan when I feel his cum dripping out of me.

Both of us watch it soaking his cock and balls before I fall as a heap all over his solid chest and bury my face in the crook of his neck.

We breathe heavily as I nuzzle my nose in his wet hair and he sandwiches my legs between his.

“Sorry…fuck.” I try to get up. “Am I crushing you?”

Nikolai wraps his arms around my waist and shoves me back down. “No way in fuck you’re moving right now.”

I chuckle against his neck. “I don’t think I can, to be honest.”

“Fuck right. That was the top-five fuck of my entire life.”

My throat works with a swallow as the pleasure haze slowly withers away. “What are your top four?”

“In no particular order. The first time I made you come. The first time I sucked you off. First time I fucked you. The second time I fucked you after you were all jealous. The first time you got on your knees for me. That time you jumped me as soon as I stepped into the penthouse and demanded I fuck you. The time you agreed to stay. The time you woke me up with your lips around my cock.”

“That’s more than four and they’re all about me.”

“You’re the best fuck of my life, baby.”

I lift myself up and cross my arms on his chest so that I’m looking at his handsome face and his glorious damp hair splaying on the pillow. “You want me to believe I’m better than all the men and women you fucked your way through?”

“They were only physical. They meant nothing.”

“And I do?”

“Baby, you mean fucking everything.”

My heart does that violent thud again and I’d swear he can feel it against his chest, but I don’t care enough to pull away from him.

I tease my fingers over his new tattoo, a sense of raging possessiveness engulfing me. “Good. Because you’re my property, Niko. You have the ink to prove it.”

“And you are mine,” he breathes out with the same intense possessiveness.

He drags my lips to his and we kiss for what seems like an eternity. Then I lift myself enough to retrieve some wet tissues to clean us up before I prop myself back up on his chest.

Nikolai spears his hand beneath his head and watches me with that permanent grin that I’m only privy to.

It slowly disappears and a frown appears on its behalf.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

He grabs my wrist and my breathing is cut off when he removes my watch. I don’t stop him, even though every fiber of my being demands I do.

My heart aches when he releases a puff of relief upon seeing I haven’t indulged in my self-destructing habits.

I expect him to let me go, but he strokes his thumb over the scarred skin, and the more he touches me, the harder it is to breathe.

My fucked-up head starts fogging up and I plunge headfirst into the inky lake of my mental state.

I try to pull my hand free, but Nikolai’s firm grip keeps it in place as he gauges my expression.

“Remember the part where you don’t get to hide from me anymore?”

“I don’t think now is a good time…”

He shakes his head and the words get stuck in my throat.

Nikolai’s touch turns softer and his voice becomes more gentle. “Tell me, baby. I just want to understand and help you. If you don’t speak to me, I don’t know where to start.”

“I’m fine—”

“What did I say about that fucking word?”

“I’m really okay now. I’m over it.”

“I’m not sure if you’re lying to me or yourself at this point.”

“Can’t you just let it go?”

“No, I can’t just let it go when it’s a huge part of who you are. Why can’t you tell me? Do you not trust me?”

“No, no, of course I do.” It’s because I trust him so much that I’m scared shitless about his reaction.

He’ll leave you when he knows what you’ve done. Everyone else will see you as the weakling you are.

I swallow past the lump in my throat as that voice hammers inside my head.

“Then why the fuck are you hiding from me?” His voice drips with frustration and I want to erase that, I want to protect him, especially from myself.

Because he shouldn’t love me. I’ll hurt him, even unintentionally, I know I will.

But I offer him something, just a little truth. “Remember when I told you I hate myself?”

He nods, his expression easing, and he goes completely still, as if my words are a ceremony he wouldn’t dare disrupt.

“A long time ago, I did something so fucked up and I never…forgave myself for it. Every time I look in the mirror, I see that version of me, and I can’t stand it. The need to crash and burn it flows inside me every second of every fucking day. That’s also why I stopped drawing people, animals, or anything with eyes. I feel as if they’re my own reflection from the mirror following me everywhere.” I smile with difficulty. “The only reason why I never took a shower with you is because I didn’t want you to witness that version of me whenever I look at the bathroom mirror. I’m sorry.”