Anatoly : Ruthless (Bad Russian Book 11)

by Alice May Ball

  Scraping my nails down the back of his beautiful suit coat, I find and grip the hard globes of his ass. Hot and firm, clenching and flexing, he pushes back against me. I’m losing control. I have to pull back. Back off and slow this down.

  But he’s so big, and I want him. So much. And there’s so much of him.

  His abs tighten and my hands dive into his coat, pulling on his shirt to get a feel of his ribs, his huge, bulging pecs. My thigh lifts to get my flower pushing closer, tighter against the length of his pulsing shaft.

  His hand is on my thigh. He pulls up my skirt, hauling the hem higher. Then he slips round to the inside. Slides up. Higher. I have to pull back. I must.

  His lips are on my neck. His breath in my ear and he whispers, “I want you, Emma. I want all of you.”

  Half heartedly, I push against his shoulders. He tugs my hair. I so want to give in. To give myself to him. To take him inside me. To feel him stretch and fill me.

  I push. Even my hands, my arms don’t want to do it. But I do.

  “Let me get a breath.”

  His eyes light. “I’ll give you whatever you want. I knew the first moment I saw you on the quayside, you are the woman for me. I knew it then and every moment since, Ive known it more.”

  My head is swimming. “What are you talking about? You don’t even know me.”

  “I know that you’re beautiful, on the inside as well as on the surface. I know because you fought for Igor. He’s not a good man, not in any way, and you know that. He even kidnapped you, but still you wanted to save him. You’re intelligent, warm, caring and you’ll make the most perfect mother.”

  “Oh! You’re really thinking ahead on this.”

  “I’m not. I’m not thinking at all. What I’m telling you is what I feel. I can’t control it. I know that you feel it, too.”

  I’m about to speak, but I first seize another kiss. Hard. Fast. And hot. “So, you’ve made that speech to how many women now? Do you even know?”

  The crinkle at the sides of his eyes makes my stomach drop. “I know. I have the exact count.” His eyes trace around my face, over my lips. All over me. “Including you, that makes a total of one.”

  I shove him. “Sure. Anatoly, tell me the truth…”

  He grabs me. Pulls me to him, crushing me against his chest and he takes another kiss.

  He pulls back just far enough that he can speak. He whispers and I taste his words. “The truth is, I never loved a woman before.” The light in his eyes is hard to disbelieve. “Ever. I didn’t even want a woman. And now I know why. I never knew it, but I was waiting for you.”

  “This is all too much to take in.” As I’m saying it, though, I feel deep stirrings, way down inside me. I don’t believe a word of it, but my body knows it's all true. His hungry eyes and his ruthless mouth are waiting. What am I going to do? I need him. I need him now and probably forever. But especially now.

  His big hands, his hard muscles, the evil light in his eyes, I need all of him and I need him right away.

  I fling my arms around his neck to grab him, drag him to me and kiss his mouth again. And again.

  My leg, wanton and shameless, curls around him. The back of my ankle rubs up the back of his thigh.

  When he bends his head to kiss my throat, I lean back, moaning softly. His mouth, his tongue on my skin set off firecrackers and rockets inside me. From my nipples to my core, strings of crackling sparks and flashes craze through my body, making me tremble and shudder.

  Tugging on his lovely white shirt, my hand slides down the front, pressing against the contours of his hardening abs, sliding down, into the hot space in the front of his pants. His soft cotton shorts are pulled tight across the swell of his fat pole, hanging heavy. It twitches. Jumps as my palm finds it. Trembling, my fingers wrap around the pulsing hot girth. My hand slips down to the base, holding it. Gripping it as hard as I dare. Holding on as boldly as I can.

  His hand slides up the back of my raised thigh. The tips of his fingers trace the lips of my flower and the hood of my clit. He presses just above. And around. And down. Like he knows me. How can he know that I want it like that? There. God, exactly there.

  I hold tight on his shaft and pull as my hips push my petals hard against him. I can feel his hot pulse in my hand, up against my weeping lips as they push, needy through all the hot, wet fabric, along his length.

  His fingers tug on my tights and pull, hooking in the sheer fabric until, at last, a soft release. Cool air fans me.

  My mouth falls on his neck. I grab on with my teeth as he presses all my secret buttons. All the steps, the patterns and codes that only I know, he plays them like tunes. Like jazz solos, improvised, swirling, hard and rising, surfing and cresting.

  How can he know me so well? How can he know me there?

  He must be a liar.

  “More,” I tell him, “Tell me anything. Take anything.” A wave of tense, sparkling clenches shakes through me. Then another. Deeper and more powerful.

  “Oh, Anatoly,” I moan, “Take everything.”

  Chapter 9

  Him

  SHE’S EAGER, AND SHE’S apprehensive at the same time. I feel it. I see the clawing rage in her eyes, the need to get to it. The hunger. Her stomach flutters, and tightness pulls at the corners of her eyes. I want it to be perfect for her.

  I have the sense that this is her first time, as it is mine. I know that it’s wishful thinking, though. My instincts are good, but I know always to be cautious when I see what I want to see, or hear what I want to hear.

  It would be perfect if it were her first time. I know that I could ask her, but in a way it doesn’t matter to me. If it is, and she wants to tell me, then I’ll love it. If not, either way, I’ll love it too.

  She’s what I want and I don’t care if she’s been ridden by every man in Washington State. Oh, damn, though, the thought makes me so angry. If she’d been near another man, I would want to kill him, rip him apart, limb from limb.

  I’m getting even harder now. The swelling is painful. As if the ache in my balls wasn’t enough.

  She leans back. Stretching out. The swelling folds of her opening weep, hot and thick. The scent of her heat is so delicious, I have to taste her first. Drink from her lovely fountain. Shove my tongue high and deep. Spread it wide to get all of her juice.

  Her hips rock as I find her entrance. A high, soft sigh slips out of her as her eyes widen and roll. The eager grip of her walls on my fingers makes it hard to wait any longer, but I must taste her.

  I take a kiss first, and her mouth is frenzied for me. As I move down I lift her skirt. Absently, with one hand in my hair, she unbuttons her shirt. Squeezes her breasts.

  When I reach pale, creamy flesh through the rip in her tights, I can’t hold back from the scent of her. My mouth falls on her and my tongue shoves her wet, silky panties aside.

  The first electric taste of her sets me ablaze. Yanking her underwear aside, my mouth attacks and devours her without mercy. My lips suck along all the length of her thickly swollen folds. My tongue pierces and penetrates her. Her yearning velvet walls flutter and close on the snake of my tongue, but I won’t let her force me out.

  My thumb and fingers tease and torment her. With my hands, my whole mouth takes her, suckles on her clit and pulls her to a peak.

  Her fingers jam and claw in my hair, and I go faster. Reading her rhythms, her rises and peaks, her needs and desires, is such a privilege and a thrill. I feel like a conductor of the greatest, filthiest, orchestra. An orchestra of scent and taste. And a ballet dancer in spasm.

  As her thighs spread and her hips buck harder, I push my tongue deeper. She tastes so sweet and pure. I can’t believe my good fortune. All my life has been a preparation for this moment. This and what’s to come.

  Her stomach rolls, and her back stretches. I can feel intense flashes of flexing muscle, jangling nerves, and her trembling skin.

  I’m desperate to take her now, fully and completely, but I can’t r
esist feeling her come on my tongue one more time first. She looks down, the face of an angel, peering past her now exposed breasts. Pulling hard on one brown bud as her mouth makes a helpless ‘O.’

  I lap and suck and coax her on, staying just behind her rhythm, letting her need be the guide. Quickly, her hips start to bounce again and her she pulls my hair to drag me harder against her. I’m only too willing to eat her even more aggressively. Her eyebrows steeple and her breath comes in pants before she pauses, stretches and then lets out a long, heartrending moan.

  I must look a disheveled mess as I rise. My shirt is unbuttoned, my hair is askew and a fierce grin that I can’t stop pulls at my mouth. Her hands reach out to me, “Anatoly,” she moans, “What are you doing to me?”

  “Do you want to wait? Take a breather?”

  “NO!” she grabs me, pulling at my pants, scrambling to open my belt. “No. I need you. Urgently. Give it to me.”

  I undo the rest of my shirt buttons and my pants. Shrugging the suit coat off, I let it drop onto a seat and step out of my pants and shorts. When my rod first bounces out of my shorts, she crawls backward into the seat with a startled look on her face.

  “God, Anatoly. You’re huge!” but then she licks her lips and reaches out again. Her hands wave, and as I step near, she grabs at my ass.

  Pulling me to her, she lunges to take me into her mouth. Stretching her lips wide and sliding over the slick crown, she murmurs and moans at the taste. “You’re so hot,” she says before she dives down the length of it.

  Her kisses and sucks and spread of her tongue over my underside as she swallows me deep into the back of her mouth make me throb and pant. She looks up at me, peering into my eyes with my thick shaft slipping in and out through her stretched lips. My ass clenches and rivers of tingling flex run up and down the tops of my thighs. My abs and pecs light up and prickle all over.

  I’m so hard and charged up for her, and she works me so wonderfully in her soft, wet little mouth, I don’t know how long I can stand this without letting go.

  It takes what feels like a blissful forever before I can bring myself to pull her gently off me.

  We meet in one long, savage, lascivious wet kiss after another.

  “You taste of me,” she says and moans.

  “You taste divine,” I pull her close again and spread her on the seat. Kneeling in front of this wonderful, woman-shaped beauty, I tear what’s left of her underwear and approach her, hard and ready.

  The head of my shaft seems to know its own way to her entrance. She looks up into my eyes as I engage. I wait. Her pulse, her breathing will guide me. When her mouth widens, then she bites her lip, I slip inside.

  Her thighs part and widen. Her breasts bounce. Her brow goes up and her hips tilt. I’m in at the entrance when her eyebrow trembles. She pushes back. Hard. Again, as her eyes frown and tighten. Then once more.

  She gasps, loud and her walls welcome me inside as the break happens.

  “Emma,” I’m almost croaking, “You’re mine. You’re really mine,” without thinking I slam almost all the way in. “Completely mine, Emma.” That’s when I realize. Oh, my God.

  She slaps her hand to her mouth, stifling a yell.

  Looking down at her, I know that I’ve hurt her. “I’m sorry,” and I start to pull out.

  Her eyes stretch wide. Still with her hand over her mouth, she shakes her head. Her pelvis slams hard into mine, and her face creases as she takes me all the way in.

  “You didn’t want me to pull out?”

  Her head shakes, her eyes are wild. She slaps my ass.

  I understand.

  I drive back into her, deeper and harder. She sets the pace. Quickening all the time. Harder. Hotter. Her soft, creamy breasts swell and bounce against my hard, hot abs. Our hips rock together. Wild. Violent. Animal.

  It makes me want to take her from behind, but I can’t miss seeing her face. Not this time. Not the first time.

  Hammering hard, I’m near, skating the edge the whole time. I don’t know how I don’t come every time she grinds and punches her hips onto me, sucking and pulling on my length greedily. Wanton and uninhibited, I count five times her neck tightens, her cheeks flush and her chest reddens.

  Each time, the muscles in her thighs zing, her gorgeous ass clenches, rolling, pulling and tugging on my hard, pulsing rod.

  This time, I bend my knees to angle my thrust to raise higher, penetrate her more deeply. She gasps and pants. Her mouth opens as I stretch her even wider. Hammer even deeper. Scrape my hard ridge higher up, right at the very front of her.

  Her legs shake and her fingers claw and grasp, stretching and closing. Her face reddens, and she beats the sides of her fists on me as her head throws back and she shouts my name. At the moment she’s wettest and widest, I blast her insides with a fountain of thick, hot spunk, gushing until it seeps out around the base of my shaft.

  I keep her in my arms, held and wrapped and close. I’m still inside her. Warm and wet. My heart pounds so hard I feel my chest pulse against hers.

  “It was your first time.”

  She nods, her hair waving soft in the crook of my neck as her breath rasps. “It was wonderful, Anatoly. It was perfect.”

  “You’re perfect,” I tell her.

  Chapter 10

  Her

  HE HOLDS ME, AND we curl up together. I don’t know how long. I’m not paying any attention to the time. It could never be long enough. I don’t think I ever felt so safe or so secure in my life. I don’t understand how or why, but I feel as though he really does care for me. I don’t believe that he does, not for a moment, but it’s a good feeling.

  I have feelings for him that I totally could never have predicted or expected. I didn’t know that I could feel this attached to someone else, so deeply or so completely. Not to someone I know almost nothing at all about.

  What little I do know of him should be a warning, a big red ‘KEEP AWAY’ sign. He’s a criminal. Probably a killer. A Russian, maybe even an enemy agent, whatever that means. Does that still mean anything now?

  But none of it changes how I feel.

  “Do you have another name, besides ‘Anatoly’?”

  “Anatoly Boris Alexei Alexeivich Pushkin.” He rumbles as he recites it.

  “That sounds totally aristocratic.” I blink, surprised. “Any relation?”

  “To the poet, Pushkin? There’s a family legend, but I think that’s all it is. Every family has legends.”

  “I don’t have enough family to even cook up a legend.”

  “Tell me.”

  “I was raised by my Momma until I was thirteen. My father and his brothers were taken from us when I was tiny. I hardly even remember them. Momma told me stories, but they always made her so very sad. When she was taken, I had to fend for myself or be pulled into the meat-grinder of social care. Tania took me in, even though she was only a couple of years older than me.”

  He held me close as I talked.

  I said, “In the house Tania rented, I found a little adopted family. She owns the house, now. Tania was a kind of Mother Goose to a little band of strays, all of us hiding out from something. She makes pretty good money with her internet businesses, but she puts it all into rescuing kids.

  “I got through school that way. I worked two part-time jobs, sometimes three. Tania would never take anything from me for the rent, so I had to buy food for her, bring it in and stash it in the fridge when she wasn’t looking. She was so good to all of us.”