God of Fury (Legacy of Gods, #5)

by Rina Kent

“Do you prefer lotus flower? My dude? Oh, Prince Charming?”

“Oh, right.” I stand toe-to-toe with him and line my lips with the shell of his ear. “You like being called baby.” He trembles against me. Fucking trembles

“Why the fuck do you act as if me calling you baby is the end of the world?” “Because you’re not supposed to,”

“You need to stop looking at me like that if you don’t want me to fucking devour you.”

My hand slides to his throat and wraps around his chiseled jaw, my fingers digging into his smooth skin. Brandon’s eyes widen to a dark, hypnotizing blue, and he rewards me with another noise, low and fucking needy.

I slam my lips to his, devouring that sound and swallowing it deep inside me.

Fuck. Fuck me. Fucking fucker of all motherfucking fucks. He tastes like sweet surrender, all woun...

sooner. I think I’ve found my new favorite drug in the...

The moment I part my lips hesitantly, Nikolai goes feral. His tongue swirls around mine, warring, plunging, and stripping me of the last smidge of control I have left. A groan echoes in the air and I realize with depleted horror that it’s mine. His fingers dig into my jaw and he growls deep in my mouth, causing me to shudder.

“Don’t call you what? Baby?” “Nikolai!” “Fuck me. I love the way you growl my name, baby.”

“Do you feel how hard I am for you?” Kiss. “How ravenous I turn when it comes to you?” Kiss. “I’ll devour you fucking whole, my beautiful lotus flower.” Kiss. “I’ll make you forget about anyone who came before me, namely fucking Clara.”

“Fuck. You do have a huge dick and it’s weeping for me. Mmm. Uncut. Fucking perfect.”

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

At the fuck-me expression. The hollowing in his cheek as he releases these fucked-up erotic noises that destroy something inside me.

I storm forward and wrap my fingers around his neck. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Why would you leave hickeys in plain sight?” “Next time, I’ll leave them in a place that’s more discreet. Mmm. Seems that, like me, you’re also a fan of choking. I love it when you lose control, baby.”

“I pull off baby better than Clara. In fact, I think it’s safe to say I do a lot of things better than her, including but not exclusive to making you come. Speaking of which, when are you going to break up with her?” I let my lips curve into a fake smile. “Clara is my girlfriend and I have no intention of breaking up with her.” “You didn’t seem to think she was your girlfriend when you had your tongue down my throat or when you came all over my cock, baby.”

One moment, he’s standing there, and the next, his fingers sink into the sides of my throat, immobilizing me as he growls against my skin, “Don’t fuck with me, Brandon. You and I both know you fell apart in my arms last night.”

“Nothing happened last night,” I say casually, keeping my eyes on his manic ones, and I almost believe my own words. Almost. “Lose the bimbo,” he threatens in hot, enraged words. “Or I’ll do it for you.”

So lotus flower didn’t lose the bimbo.

I clearly brought him more pleasure than she ever has. He kissed me with his eyes closed. In your fucking bimbo face.

I know because I made sure to watch him as I backed him against the wall and ate the shit out of his mouth. My Prince Charming melted, fucking melted even as he met me stroke for stroke.

More importantly, he didn’t seem burdened. If anything, at times, he was a bit eager…as wound up as I was.

Seriously, Kolya. Thinking of fucking him won’t get you there faster. Let my brain solve this issue for once. Short of getting him drunk again, I’m lost. I fucking love drunk Bran, by the way, would vote for him to be the official version in the next election.

“Niko.” Jeremy places a hand on my arm. “Whatever you’re currently thinking about, don’t do it.” “But she’d look so pretty in a fucking casket.”

My mood has taken a sharp dive ever since fucking Clara staked a public claim on him. Why shouldn’t I kill her again?

“You know it turns me on when you talk like that.”

But here’s the thing that I’ve suspected for some time. It’s an image. I’m not saying he doesn’t care about all of those causes, but he’s using his goody-two-shoes personality as camouflage. A crutch.

“Why I’m still with her is none of your business. I am none of your fucking business, Nikolai. What happened that night was because I was wasted. You said I could blame you, so this is me blaming you and telling you to leave me the hell alone.”

“But I don’t want to.”

“You’re a fucking nightmare,” he mutters, his throat working beneath my fingers. “Your nightmare.”

“I hate you.” “I don’t.” “You’re fucking crazy.” “About you,”

His lashes flutter over his cheeks as he groans, and I eat that sound the fuck up. I eat him the fuck up.

I’ve been fantasizing about his taste since last week. Every morning, noon, and night. Every goddamn second of every fucking day, all I wanted was to have a taste again.

I roll his bottom lip between my teeth and nibble on the skin until he’s whimpering, shuddering, and fucking shaking against me. Give me more. More. Fucking more.

He spits out the most erotic moan I ever heard, and I jam two of my fingers in his mouth, then spread them against his tongue. I need him to stop fucking talking and ruining every moment with his damn mouth. My tongue swirls around his light-brown areola, then I tug the nipple between my teeth, sucking and biting until all I hear are the muffled noises spilling from his stuffed mouth.

“You look perfect marked by me. My own piece of fucking art.”

Not after one lick or two or a thousand. I want to throw him down and feast on him properly. I want to watch him shudder and whine and moan as I kiss every inch of his gorgeous skin.

“Go away…please.” I crash my lips against his. “Shut.” Kiss. “The.” Lick. “Fuck.” Bite. “Up.” He moans, the cracks in his armor growing wider and deeper, and I smash through them one by each fucking one.

He stares at his feet, his shoulders crowding with tension. What the fuck… “Hey.” I tap his cheek with the back of my fingers and he blinks up at me. “What’s wrong?” “I… I…” “Hey…breathe.” He doesn’t seem to be doing that at all as he sputters and stares at me as if I’m an alien.

My eyes close in remembrance of his lips, his hard body, and the way he kissed me.

And she certainly doesn’t ask what happened to my bandaged hand every day like a certain twat who refuses to give up.

That’s because you prefer something more masculine. The memory of bergamot and mint floods my nose and I tighten my muscles.

“I can help you get rid of all that tension, sexy.” “No. I’m good. Thanks for offering.” I grab her dress that she stripped off teasingly earlier and hand it over. “I’m sorry again.”

“It’s not you. It’s me. I cheated on you.” But even as I say that, it doesn’t feel right. Being with her just now felt like I was cheating on him. Not the other way around.

“Aww.” Eli wraps an arm around my other shoulder and squeezes me. “The help dared hurt my precious Bran? Why didn’t you mention that before so I could’ve gouged her eyes out and fed them to the dogs?”

I honestly never thought men could have sensitive nipples or, worse, in my case, that it would turn me on when Nikolai played with them.

The one who’s driving me fucking insane is none other than a man. A rowdy, always shirtless, mountain of a man who looks at me like he wants to rip me apart.

My gaze lands on my eyes in the mirror and I groan when I accidentally touch my nipple. It’s still sore and aching from his attention earlier, and no matter how much I try to erase that memory, it won’t go away.

I ghost my finger on the tight pebble and pinch it again, imagining it’s his teeth. My dick twitches, straining against my trousers, and I bite down on my lower lip.

On the way here, I thought the raging anger was because Clara was being Clara again. I thought it was because Nikolai was touching her. But it’s not until this very moment that the depressing truth crashes into me. I never gave two flying fucks about Clara. Zilch. Nada. What’s driving me to the edge of myself isn’t her. It’s her touching Nikolai. It’s not about her. It’s about him. Bloody fucking hell.

Possessive Bran is my favorite