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

Don’t be a baby, Nikolai.





I thought you were the baby, baby.





He covers his mouth with a palm, but it’s too late, I can see him smiling. It takes everything in me not to lean over and feast on that smile and pull on his lip with my teeth just the way he loves it.

Me



You smell so good, I want to lick you up.





Bran



Nikolai!





You look so hot, I want to eat you up. I can’t wait to fuck you until you’re a blithering mess, baby.





Shut up.





Love how you’re prim and proper in public but turn into a filthy-mouthed sex god in private. How you’re all quiet now, but you become loud when your ass swallows my cock. Mmm. Getting hard thinking about your face when you choke on my cock.





STOP.





Oh, one last thing. I forgot to do this earlier today.





I send him a dick pic I took this morning.

Bran squirms in his seat and immediately exits the chat. I suppress a smile as I keep staring at my screen.

“Is it Simon?”

Kill’s words pause my attempts to send another dick pic just to mess with my Bran.

I slide my gaze from my phone to my cousin, frowning. “Simon?”

“Is he the one you’re exclusive with?” Kill asks.

Bran pauses with his cup of coffee near his lips before he slowly sets it down.

“You’re in an exclusive relationship?” Glyn asks with apparent glee.

“He is and wouldn’t tell me who with.” Kill pauses. “I’m going through your toys, and Simon is the only one clingy enough to want that.”

“Who’s Simon?” Glyn asks.

I steal a look at Bran and his lips are set in a line. He knows exactly who Simon is, even though it’s been several weeks. After all, he agreed to be exclusive because of his jealousy.

“He’s the one who walks and talks like a diva and calls Nikolai Daddy,” Killian answers her.

“Oh, Simon.” Glyn smiles. “He asked me to call him Sim.”

“More like a simp.” Kill twists his lips. “He’s so cringe. Please tell me he’s not the one you’re with.”

“Maybe he is,” I say as I hit Send on the second nude.

This time, it’s a full-body mirror selfie where I’m fisting my cock and biting my lower lip.

Then just to fuck with him, I type:

Me



Thinking of your ass makes me drip, baby.





Bran stands up all of a sudden, hand clenched around his phone, but he sounds composed when he says, “I’m going to pop into the toilet.”

I suppress a smile as I watch the dots appear and disappear.

“Stop smiling like a creep,” Kill says. “It’s disgusting.”

“Don’t be jealous of my sexy smile, Satan’s heir.” I slide my phone into my pocket. “I need something sweet. Be right back.”

I head to the cashier, pretending to be checking out their sweets. No Italian pistachio croissant, no baklava, and no macarons. Not interested.

After I catch a glimpse of Kill and Glyn eating each other’s faces, I slip to the restroom. I find Bran standing in front of a sink, his face twisted and his fingers holding his phone in a death grip.

I slip behind him and whisper in his ear, “Careful, if you glare at it hard enough, it might break.”

He flinches and whirls around so fast, he nearly falls. I wrap an arm around his waist. “Easy, baby.”

His wild eyes search our surroundings with tendrils of panic. “What are you doing, Nikolai?”

“I figured you could use a hand.” I glide my palm to his erection and fist it through his pants. “Mmm. Did you get hard looking at my nudes, baby?”

“Nikolai…” He struggles for control, his voice hoarse. “This is a public place… Stop…”

“But the possibility of getting caught is making your cock thicker.” I lean over and slide my tongue over the shell of his ear. “Or is that because of me?”

“You need to get over yourself…” His words end with a moan when I bite the lobe of his ear, then his jaw, and his bottom lip.

“You were saying?”

“Cut it out…”

“What was that?” I stroke his erection, making it as hard as stone. “Your cock is so fucking hard for me.”

“F-fuuck…bloody hell.”

“Mmm. Love it when you curse, baby.”

“Nikolai—”

Whatever he has to say is cut off when the sound of footsteps comes from outside.

Bran freezes, the lust replaced by a sense of panic so steep, it baffles me. Even his erection starts to deflate.

Why the fuck does he act as if it’s the end of the world if someone catches him kissing me?

I grab his wrist and drag him to the last stall, then shove him inside, slam the door shut, and back him up against the wall.

A few male voices reach us from outside, discussing the Premier League and whatnot.

“Leave,” Bran whispers.

“Shut your fucking mouth.”

“Niko—” I crash my lips to his and he groans into my mouth, the sound small but enough to make me hot and bothered.