Leonid Unstoppable

by May Ball, Alice

  “Okay, you fuck. You fucking asked for it,” and he reaches inside his coat.

  Konstantin moves like he has all the time in the world, flows like a dancer. In an elegant arc, his fist canons into the man’s face. In the same move, his knee rams into the attacker’s pelvis. As that man goes down, my protector turns and stretches over, like he’s reaching for a drink in slow motion, or he’s plucking a basketball out of the air.

  I’m holding my breath as he grabs the other two men with both hands. He slams their heads together with a sickening crack. They go down as he reaches into the front of the coat of the man who was pulling a weapon.

  Coming back with a gun, he points it at the man on the floor. Sweeps the barrel around the other three.

  “Why haven’t you all fucked off? Do you think I might not shoot you?”

  They didn’t need telling again. All four scramble to their feet to run. The man who had the gun is the slowest.

  As he gets up to sprint away, his feet are kicked out from under him. He lands hard with his forehead on the cement.

  My man—I’m surprised and shocked at myself, thinking of him that way. But he is my hero. At least for now—my man grabs him by his coat. Hauls him up with one hand. Hits him hard across the face with the other. Fetches a fast, heavy kick, high up between the man’s legs.

  Pulls his face up, says right into his eyes, “I wonder if you can still run. What do you think?” The man’s eyes bulge while he tries to nod. “You better hope so. Because I’ve still got a fucking urge to splatter you.”

  He lets go of the man. When he falls, the back of his head smacks on the cement. Wild-eyed, right away, he pulls himself up to run. He stumbles. His movements are slow and uneven, like a drunk who can’t tell exactly which way is up.

  Konstantin’s eyes are on me. I feel them like a heat. He strides toward me.

  His arm arcs and he tosses the gun, high in the air. It spins before it drops with a splash into the bay.

  Right in front of me, the heat of his body is powerful.

  He holds my chin. Looks in my eyes.

  “Are you okay?”

  Chapter 8

  Him

  I HOLD OUT A hand. Protective, and a gesture of friendship. “Come, Parker. Come back to the ship. Let me get you a drink to steady your nerves. Get a car for you, to take you home.”

  She doesn’t want to come. But I don’t want her walking back through the shadows.

  “Come with me.”

  I don’t mean for it to come out sounding so hard but the effect it has on her is electrifying. Even through the defiant stare, I can see she’s going to do what I tell her. She moistens her lips and her eyes gleam.

  I can’t stop now to think about how it made me feel to protect her. Putting those assholes down for her left me with a feeling. Something unfamiliar. Unsettling, even. But it’s something I want more of.

  Leading her back up the companionway, I steer my mind away from thoughts of telling her what to do. I know that I could get to like it. Too much. The strain in my pants tells me that I’ve gotten to like it too much already.

  I take her into a private lounge. Roberto, one of Firebird’s mixologists, is hurrying by in the corridor as I’m closing the door.

  “Roberto,” I snap my fingers. “Get me two glasses and a bottle of Talisker. Twenty-five-year-old. Bring ice and water, too.”

  “Boss, sorry. I’m just going off my shift.” He’s new.

  “Don’t you want to come back for another one?”

  I see his jaw set. “I’ll get them for you. Right away, boss.”

  “Thank you, Roberto.” I duck back into the private lounge. She’s backed against the wall. The look in her eyes is part fear, part excitement. And another part steely challenge.

  She puts the camera on the table. I hold out a hand. “Give me the card. I’ll make a copy and have it sent to you.”

  “Why don’t I make a copy and send it to you?”

  “Look, don’t try and fuck with me.”

  Her eyes darken. Her tongue flicks across her lips. I see her bite into the side of her cheek.

  “You’re used to people doing exactly what you tell them to do.”

  “People do what I tell them.” I shrug. “When they know what’s good for them.” Her eyes widened when I said that.

  “Is that a threat?” Her voice is defiant. Her eyes tell a different story, though. Her hand goes to the back of her neck. Her voice lowers to a whisper. “What do you do when you don’t get your own way?”

  “I don’t know. It never happened.” I don’t mean to be so sharp with her. I tell her, “I have a security problem tonight.”

  “What kind of security problem?”

  “Espionage.”

  “Are you serious?” Her voice lowers, breathy.

  “Deadly.”

  “So, what is this?” She’s gesturing around. “Is it all some front for the KGB?” Meaning the show, I assume.

  “No. But fashion, especially at this level, it’s a very serious business. There’s a lot of money at stake, and some people will stop at nothing to get an edge on a competitor.”

  “All this is about commercial espionage?” Her eyes gleam as she looks up at me, “I don’t buy it. If you were so concerned to keep everything secret, why have you invited half of the world’s fashion press to your little show tonight? There must have been a hundred journalists out there. Maybe double that, I can’t tell,” her eyes flash, “everybody out there is so painfully on point and edgy.”

  “You’re exactly right. About half the most important people in the fashion press watched the show,” I tell her. “The half that I know I can trust.”

  “But it’s fashion.” Her eyebrows point upward. “It’s all going to be seen. Then you won’t be able to hide it anymore. Are you afraid that people will see it too soon and be able to copy the design?”

  She’s sharp. I like it. In fact, I like it too much.

  “Our business is the created stones. Somebody has been stealing our designs and trying to get to the process. We make stones that are quite unlike any others.”

  “They’re crystals, right?”

  “That’s right. Mass-market fashion houses use zirconium crystal. We have a process to make our gemstones from tantalum. They catch the light in a way that’s unique because of the crystal structure, which is our biggest trade secret.”

  “Can’t somebody just buy a few and then look at them under a microscope or something?”

  “No.” I tell her, “If you crush them, the structure of the crystal collapses. They can’t be reverse engineered. There’s no way to break it down without destroying it.”

  “You can’t see it with a microscope?”

  “Not even an electron microscope.”

  “So, what can a blogger do? Why are you afraid of bloggers?”

  “I love bloggers. Bloggers are part of our lifeblood in spreading the word. But later. An early event like this is for a very select group.”

  “How very elitist of you.”

  I laugh again. “That’s how the fashion business works. It’s all about rarity. Scarcity. Limited access. Seeing the thing that’s going to be the next big thing, but before anybody else has seen it. Inside information. Super secrets. High-end fashion is more about having something that nobody else has than it is about the thing itself.”

  She’s getting me to talk too much. Even if she isn’t a blogger, I don’t think I can trust myself around her. My feelings are taking me to places I shouldn’t be going. I know that’s what it is. I’m opening up to this clever and devious little minx. I have to stop that.

  Roberto knocks and brings in the tray. As he sets it on the table, he looks quickly between the two of us. He knows not to hang around. He turns quickly and leaves, closing the door behind him.

  “You’ve got a lot of power for a security guy,” she says. “Seems like everybody on the boat treats you like you’re the boss.” I get a surprising flash of pleasure from he
r thinking that I’m somebody else.

  “Ship,” I tell her as I pour two good-sized shots of the island single malt into the crystal glasses. “Ice?”

  “No. Thanks. In a good whiskey, it’s barbaric. In bad whiskey, it just makes it last longer.”

  “Well,” I say, impressed. “Your health.”

  I lift a glass and hand it to her. She takes and turns it in her hand, breathing the aroma.

  She takes a good-sized bite of her Scotch. A girl who knows how to handle her whiskey. Or so it would seem.

  “So,” she says, “Why do you say, ‘ship’?”

  “This is a ship. A yacht, a super yacht, even a megayacht. But a ship.”

  “What’s the difference between a ship and a boat?”

  “Ships carry boats.”

  Her eyebrows raise. “I learned something.”

  She finishes her scotch and sets down the glass. She steps close. Near enough for me to feel the heat of her body. I could grab her. Right now. Her lips part and head tips back a little. Showing me her neck. Milky, smooth.

  I can’t let this get out of control. Not tonight. Not this, or anything else.

  Seems she has other ideas. “Thank you for the scotch, security man. I feel very well taken care of. And now, if you don’t mind, I’ll be making my way home.”

  “I said, I’ll get you a car. Anyway, don’t hurry. I like the way you take pictures. I may want to buy some of yours.”

  Her head shakes but her lips are pressed together.

  My pulse hammers.

  She says, “I don’t believe any of it, security guy. Not a word. Makes me wonder if you have something else in mind.”

  “Oh, I do.” I take a sip of the Talisker and put the glass down, watching as she bites the side of her lip. “But that’s another thing entirely.”

  “What is it?”

  “Come closer,” I tell her. “You don’t mean to tell me you haven’t been thinking about it, too.”

  “What?” I move behind her. She leans back. Her ass presses against my cock.

  “Seriously?” My head shakes. I let out a chuckle. “Well, then this may all come as a big shock to you.”

  I turn her chin. Look straight in her eye. “I want you to feel my cock.”

  “I can feel it.” She leans back. Harder.

  “I want you to feel every hot inch of it. I want to spread you wide, lance your wet petals and feel your soft velvet walls flutter around my fat, rigid pole.”

  Her neck and her face are so red, she practically glows. I stroke the tips of my fingers down her neck. “I want to lick you, high inside your deepest folds, suck on your tits and your pussy. I want to suck your pussy until you gush. And I want to fuck you till you beg.”

  She looks around and up at me.

  Blood sings in my veins. A taste, an iron tang is in the back of my mouth. The scents of her fill my head like smoke.

  Her voice is soft. Tender and pleading, “You can’t always get what you want.” Her body is hot, soft, leaning against me.

  “I can.”

  “Not this time, security guy.”

  She’s turning, sliding past me.

  “Look, little stowaway—” I grab her arm. She sighs as she looks down at my hand. Then her eyes blaze into mine. Her chin tips up and her mouth opens.

  “I have to go…” Her voice is practically a whisper. And she’s not making any moves to leave.

  “Don’t. Stay.” I love to see the effect that a command has on her. Her eyelids hang heavy. She takes a long, soft breath.

  “Make me…” she says.

  My hand is on her neck. Pulling her to me. She turns, “Yes,” like she’s begging.

  She turns in my hand. She’s facing away from me but looking back. Over her shoulder.

  I have to let her go. I must.

  But I can’t.

  Chapter 9

  Her

  HE’S SO ARROGANT. I need to leave. If I stay, I’ll lose my grip completely. I’ll do something stupid.

  Dance beats still pump, low, deep and insistent from the ballroom. Making my body want to move.

  I can’t trust him. Even more, I doubt if I can trust myself with him. He’s huge behind me. His scent is so dark and strong, and his body is so powerful. The bulge, the hard ridge against my ass, even through the denim of my overalls, it feels like he’s got a gun down there. Like a hot shaft of iron.

  Whoever he is, whatever he is, he’s not a security guard, but he doesn’t correct me. Even when I tease him with it, he doesn’t say anything. I’m way out of my depth here. His lips are so close.

  His huge, strong hands are on my waist. When I look back, up into his eyes, his mouth is so near. I can almost taste him.

  Then I do taste him.

  His mouth fits to mine. Soft but strong. Like he can take everything, all of me. It’s no effort at all. He can drink me through my breath. Eat me through my skin.

  I feel like a door blew open in my feelings. Light and air flood in. He breathes into me, his tongue and mine embrace.

  I turn, reach up. Wind my arm up, around his neck to pull him to me.

  “We shouldn’t,” I tell him. My lips find his again.

  He says, “I know,” looking down at my mouth. Licking his lips.

  I stretch up, pull him closer for another kiss. His hand is on my throat. “I shouldn’t do this,” I murmur.

  “Then don’t.” My arms wrap around him as his mouth claims me again. We slip out of time, to a place where there’s only him and me.

  I need to stop. I’ll just let him take another sweet kiss. When we break, I look at his face. Hard. Fierce, even. But inside the brute who thrashed the muggers, I see the man who cared enough to come after me. Maybe in spite of himself.

  Maybe two more sweet kisses. My thighs fasten around one of his. I can’t help myself. He feels so good. I grip his huge muscle. Rock my pelvis on it. Up, along it. He is so very much of what I need. I never wanted a man like him before. An alpha. An older man. A man who has every kind of power, like he has. And he has every kind of power there is.

  Squeezing his leg hard between mine, I give in to another too-short kiss, then one more. I’m tumbling inside. Backflipping. Falling upward.

  His voice rolls through me, deep and thick like molasses. “I have to have you,” and his strong hands hold me so tenderly. His hands make me feel small. Delicate. Like I’m precious.

  Oh, I want to just stay here. Now. Tonight. Wrapped up in him. Forever. Why isn’t all of my life like this?

  His phone rings. He ignores it as he holds my face in his hands and kisses me again.

  As I slide up along the ridge of his thigh, my tender, needy clit finds the tip of his cock. His bulge is pressed through his pants and my heavy denim. I can still feel the heat of him, though.