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

Silently.

My eyes imploring his glazed-over ones. This is the first time anyone has looked at me like this. As if they’re possessed with the idea of me.

And it’s fucking terrifying.

“Don’t make me do this,” I whisper when he doesn’t make a move to remove his hand.

“Too late.”

“I’m…drunk.” My chest rises and falls so hard, it grazes his with every movement, every breath, and I’m intoxicated, completely out of my damn mind.

“Then blame it on me, baby.” He pushes my hand away, and this time, I let it fall to my side and don’t attempt to stop him again as he undoes my belt and pulls down my zipper.

My insides are cracking and smashing, and I don’t recognize my lustful thoughts. I don’t recognize this version of me.

Because I find myself watching his movement, anticipation coiling in me like a snake as he wraps a tattooed hand around my rock-hard cock. I don’t stop him when flicks his thumb on the side. I don’t stop him when he gives me a firm, delicious jerk.

I just watch.

In complete, utter fascination.

He pulls out my painfully hard cock and I hiss at the sensation of his rough hand against the sensitive skin.

“Fuck. You do have a huge dick and it’s weeping for me. Mmm. Uncut. Fucking perfect.” He flashes me a charming grin as he strokes me from the base to the foreskin and presses his thumb at the tip.

I think I’ll make a massive joke out of myself and come right then and there, drowning in his gaze and the hair that’s framing his sharp face.

Is it supposed to feel this fucking good?

“Why, hello, Straight Brandon’s dick. You look pretty gay to me.” He strokes again, harsher this time, eliciting a shudder from me.

Somewhere in my mind, I know that I should stop him. I need to stop him.

But I don’t want to.

I have no will whatsoever.

None of my bodily functions are in tune with the logical part of my brain. Not when he’s jerking me off with a level of control that leaves me panting.

My ears ring and my vision blurs, but he remains in focus right in the middle, his hard strokes grounding me to the moment.

To him.

Tingles creep up my spine and all my blood rushes to where he’s touching me.

“Get my cock out,” he orders in a low, growly voice.

My heavy lids lift for a fraction of a second and I stare at him, dumbfounded.

What was he saying again?

“Now,” he says, firmer this time, and I don’t know what’s come over me.

There’s something about the way he orders me around that works me into an inexplicable frenzy.

I grab onto his jeans, fingers unsteady and completely awkward as I undo his button and then slide down his zipper over his enormous erection.

Every now and then, I have to stop and suppress a groan when he jerks me faster with skin-tingling control.

My hand is definitely less sure when I reach into his boxer briefs and then pause, my mind going blank.

What the hell am I supposed to do now? I don’t want to make an awkward move.

“Wrap your hand around my cock and pull it out, baby.” His voice is deep but authoritarian and I find myself doing just that.

It’s the first time I’ve touched a dick other than my own, and bloody fucking hell.

The moment I bring it out, I can’t resist staring at how both thick and long he is. I’m not small by any means, but Nikolai is a tad bigger and slightly curved. Four piercings protrude from the crown, shining under the dim streetlight.

“Your hands are so soft.” He nibbles on my lip, my jaw, and my Adam's apple.

A groan slips out of me and he grins against it, licking the assaulted skin, then whispers, “Squeeze me, baby.”

I do, carefully, not wanting to cause him pain. Though he certainly doesn’t seem like he has the same concerns with my own cock since he jerks me as if he has a problem with me.

Not that I’m complaining. No one has ever touched me this roughly. This…deliciously.

“You won’t hurt me, lotus flower. Do it harder.” He laps his tongue at my jaw. “Mmm. Let me get the blood off you.”

He bites down on the spot as if he wants to break the skin and then sucks hard until I’m lightheaded.

My skin tingles when he steps back to leave space between us.

Nikolai releases my cock, and before I can think about it, he presses his hand on mine, opens it, and rubs his cock against mine, then closes my hand on both our girths, barely. I have big hands, but it looks tiny when wrapped around our dicks.

“Let me show you how to properly jerk a man’s soul out of his cock. Relax your hand.”

I do, my eyes following his movements with fascination as he grips my hand and uses it to jerk both our lengths. Roughly. With a firm edge.

The visual of his inked hand on mine turns the lust into a dangerous need.

A dash of pleasure thickens my cock, but it soars into an avalanche when Nikolai thrusts his length against mine and my hand.

Our hands.

He rolls his hips and slams forward, stabbing my groin with his pierced crown. Once, twice.

On the third time, I’m thrusting as well, matching his rhythm and jerking as hard as he’s directing my hand, refusing to be the recipient. Refusing to be trapped in a role that revolts me to the core.

Wetness slips beneath our fingers and I’m not sure if it’s his precum or mine. I obviously don’t care, because I go faster, harder. Out of the control I excel at so well.