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God of Fury (Legacy of Gods, #5)(118)

Author:Rina Kent

“But why would you count my lashes?”

“I love them. They’re dark and long and so fucking pretty when you’re sleeping. Besides, no one but me can count them, so that’s a huge bonus.”

He chuckles softly, the sound echoing around us like a lullaby. “You’re so weird.”

“I’ve always been.”

“That you have.”

“The only difference is that you’re not running away anymore.”

“No, I’m not.” He leans completely against my chest and closes his eyes. “Give me five and then I’m taking you to bed. From now on, you’re not allowed to sleep on the floor anymore.”

I have no words to say, so I lower my head and capture his lips in a slow kiss. That queasy feeling only gets more intense the longer my mouth ravages his. My insides melt when he meets me stroke for stroke, grunt for grunt.

If I wasn’t sure before, I am now.

I’m completely and irrevocably in trouble because of Brandon King.

26

NIKOLAI

Three weeks pass by in bliss.

And by bliss, I mean the most erotic, beautiful fuck fest.

Just kidding. I love the fucking, I really, really do. Ask Kolya and he’ll be giving a standing ovation.

But Bran and I have always had the fucking at the center of what we are. It’s why he even gave in to me in the first place.

Give yourself a pat on the crown for being a motherfucking elite seducer, Kolya.

However, that’s not the only strong element in our relationship anymore. Something changed after the first time he stayed over. Although I was the one who put forth that condition, I think he felt a sense of relief that I was forcing him to stop running.

I could be imagining it or deep into my delusions, but he really has this peaceful expression when I fall asleep strangling him or when he wakes up stroking my jaw.

Oh, I actually sleep on a bed now. Shocker, I know. It’s like the eighth world wonder and one of those mysterious breaks in history. I’m sure my previous useless therapists would have a field day with the causes.

I’m a simple man. I smell Bran and feel his hard muscles molded to mine, and I’m a goner. It’s blasphemy to expect me to sleep separate from him when he’s lying there like a beautiful prince.

He might attempt to push me away or pretend that I’m annoying and crushing him, but here’s the thing. Whenever I pull away from him in my sleep, I wake up to find his head on my chest and his arm wrapped around my middle. Or he’ll press his chest to my back, throw his arm on my waist, and bury his face in my hair.

He’s so fucking cute, I always want to swallow him whole, and I do, often.

I usually wake him up with my lips around his cock or my cock nudging inside him. He picked up on it and started trying to wake up before me just so he can suck me off first thing in the morning.

It’s not a competition I’m complaining about. In fact, I love how he gets that smug look on his face while giving me the sloppiest of sloppy blowjobs.

Over the past few weeks, Bran has become a bit more comfortable touching me and I don’t always have to initiate sex anymore.

If he’s in the mood, he definitely makes it known either by attacking me as soon as I walk inside the apartment or with his constant texts that mimic my clingy nature.

He can also be surprisingly possessive—though not as unhinged as I am since I literally threaten to break the arm of anyone who touches him. The other day, I ran into Simon at one of the coffee shops and he started being touchy as usual before I pushed him away.

Turns out, Bran saw it and sent me this gem of a text.

You better remember who the fuck you belong to, Nikolai.

Did I print that text and frame it? Possibly.

I fucking love that he’s been more forward lately. Not to the point of talking to me in public—God forbid anyone knows about us. But he’s getting there.

I don’t mind. Much. I love that I’m his secret. I love that he’s aloof and in complete control when in public, but he falls apart on my tongue, fingers, and cock in private.

I love that he steals glances at me when everyone is looking, then whispers how much he needs me to fuck the daylights out of him when it’s only the two of us.

He’s mine and that’s all that matters.

I'm the only one who knows he’s a noisy motherfucker during sex, and that’s all I care about. Still, I make sure to decorate his skin with hickeys so others know he’s owned. I take my time turning them deep purple until he’s whining and add new ones every night. The earful he gives me afterward is worth it.