My mind is foggy, and I’m so warm, so happy. After so long of waiting for this moment, it’s even better than I could have ever anticipated. Every throb of his shaft sends a thrill through me, our breathing quickening as we push against each other.
He’s so much stronger, though, and the back of my head presses hard into the bed as his muscled body overcomes me.
Those powerful fingers of his sink into my flesh, and he uses my body to brace himself as he tugs back his hips. That girth of his pulling my pink labia as he slides back, glistening with my honey.
The low, pleasured moan he gives fills the air, his gorgeously muscled body rippling with the effort. Right before he plunges back into me again.
It’s a slow motion at first, but the next one comes a little faster, and for the first time in my life I’m having sex. Really doing it! And with the man of my dreams no less.
“You’re finally all mine, Sarah,” he growls out as I stare up at his tattooed form, seeing the beast beneath the suits and civility for what he is. “And you aren’t getting away ever again,” he insists before covering my mouth with his once more for another aggressive kiss.
He’s everywhere. I can smell him, taste him, feel him. I kiss him back, opening my mouth a little and letting his tongue invade me, that wet muscle pressing in against mine. I moan, and lift my free leg to wrap around his body, holding him close.
He finds a rhythm, and after a few moments, the pain dims and in its wake is bliss.
It is no longer just the thrill of finally being with him, of losing that niggling little thing called my ‘virginity’, it feels good as he thrusts his hips and fills me to my utmost depths. The air is rife with the sound of his balls slapping against my ass, and he picks up pace, those fingers of his holding me with an iron grip as he squeezes my thigh and breast.
Dimitri lifts my leg up over his waist, and looks down at me through narrow slits as he arches his back. He’s pounding into me deeply, savoring the way my body rocks with his hammering thrusts.
“You’re all mine now,” he growls out in that delightfully harsh accent that seems to thicken with his pleasure.
He looks so good, his body covered with a light sheen of sweat, making his muscles even more prominent. I stare, transfixed, my entire body screaming for something I don’t have words for. I’ve been pent up for so long that these sensations are already bringing me close to my climax.
Every contour of his rippling abs is on display thanks to that light perspiration, and I can see him in intimate, glossy detail. The way his biceps bulge, his pecs twitch, but most perfectly… the way his manhood plunges down into my puffy slit, vanishing from sight only to slide back out a moment later.
It’s all so dizzying, and he’s slowly claimed by his own pleasure, his eyes shutting as he takes me harder. I can feel him tensing but then… then he does something I don’t expect with him looking so lost in pleasure.
He reaches his thumb up from my thigh and presses upon my sensitive clit, prodding and circling it with such urgency as he barrels towards his own release.
“Come for me,” he demands in a gravelly, grunting voice. “Come on my dick before I fill your pussy, Sarah.”
I should be revolted by his crassness, but it sends a shiver through me that I can’t believe. I know we’re taking a risk, I know better than this, and I don’t care. Not as those waves of pleasure crash down on me, making me tremble violently against his hard grasp.
The clench of my pussy brought him into pleasurable oblivion with me. He hammers into me again, and lets howl a deep cry. His cock thrusts into my depths, jarring me as he hilts himself. The thick spasms of his own climax rocking not only his shaft but his whole, glorious body as he pumps every spurt of his seed deep into me.
His final thrusts are erratic, but they are so strong and needful, and he looses every drop of his virile seed deep into my waiting womb. It is a careless risk, but one I can’t care less for at this moment. I just want to be one with him, to feel it all and appreciate how we’ve become one so completely, without obstacle or interference.
My arms wrap around him, clinging to him like I’m afraid he’ll disappear now that it’s done. I’m scared that he’ll abandon me again, that this’ll be the end of it, and yet the climax dulls my fears and leaves in its wake a sense of neediness.
“Dimitri,” I murmur, and his mouth silences me.
His hands are all over me again, sliding up and down my sides, feeling out every inch of my figure. He feels as hungry for me as he did before we even started, and he squeezes me in those powerful arms, kissing me so deep it steals all my words, then my thoughts.
The two of us still laying there, intertwined, with arms, legs and loins entangled, and this time neither of us is in a rush to end it.
14
I wake up in his arms, the blankets twisted around my legs. His arm weighs me down, slung along my stomach, and when I look over through bleary eyes, I see his still slumbering face.
His brows are knit, and he yanks me closer, as if fighting my stirring and not wanting to wake. I shimmy in nearer, staring up at the ceiling. My limbs ache, and my heart is racing, but I’ve never slept better in my life in all honesty. Held in his arms, his hot body held against mine, it was bliss and I didn’t want to escape it so soon either.
“Mmm,” he growls, his dark lashes parting to reveal his cocoa colored eyes. “Sarah.” His lips pull into a smile and then he lunges at me, and all of the peace of the morning is shattered by our cries of pleasure.
Bacon, eggs, toast, and freshly squeezed orange juice. It’s funny how just a simple meal can bring back so much nostalgia, and I look at Dimitri with a crooked smile. He gave me one of his button down shirts to wear, but it’s way too big for me, and I have to pull up the sleeves to grab my fork.
“Just like dad used to make,” I say, and I’m not sure if he made it especially for me or if he just liked the tradition of it. From his grin, I know I’m not getting an answer.
He slathers some jam on his toast, crunching on it as he stares across the table at me.
“I decided our next move,” he says, and I tilt my head. For a second I don’t know what he’s talking about. Rebecca’s death is the last thing I want to think about, but investigating who killed her is a dual edged sword. ‘Curiosity killed the cat,’ keeps ringing in my head.
“Oh?” I stare back at him, uneasy. It’s one thing to sleep with him, to have him absolutely punish my delicate body, but this is something totally different. Trying to act like everything’s normal after doing it? Like it didn’t affect him?
I’m kind of hurt, and take a sip of my orange juice to hide my frown.
“Da, there’s a charity auction mother was to attend this Friday. She was to rub shoulders with some of the most powerful men and women in the city. If her hit was because of her business moves, then someone will have information there.”
I just nod my head, not knowing what more to say. It’s not like I don’t want to find out. Hell, a part of me is excited at the prospect. I’ve always been far nosier than I should be, and finding out who exactly Rebecca pissed off? That sounds like icing on the cake.
“It won’t be dangerous,” he says, looking at me with those dark, smoldering eyes as if that’s what I’m worried about. Honestly, the fact that it might be dangerous only made me more excited. What’s wrong with me? “Just a bunch of rich twats who’ll think you’re there to pay your respects.”
I narrow my eyes at him.
“You’re not coming?”
He shakes his head.
“I have my own ways of getting information.”
The room falls uncomfortably silent. I know his ways of getting information, and those are dangerous. As dangerous as it gets.
I lick my lips. Do I tell him I know about Anton? About Slava? I quickly decide against it. After all, it could just make him angry.
I cross my legs as I take another bite of toast, staring off in thought. The world goes fuzzy an
d I picture him in his car, driving to some seedy restaurant, his fist connecting with the face of the owner as he interrogates him.
He waves his hand in front of my face, snapping me out of my violent reverie.
“What’s wrong?”
What’s wrong? The fact that he’s acting like nothing happened, like he and I didn’t make love, that we didn’t have a connection. The fact that he’s just talking to me like I’m his sister who's helping him solve a murder case.
And then I feel his hand on my knee, groping up the bare flesh, and a shiver of calm goes through me. My eyes flutter and my shoulders relax. When I open my eyes again, he’s grinning.
“I didn’t figure you’d still be so pent up. Aren’t you sore?” His lip quirks, his eyes so dark and dangerous that I can’t look away.
“Yea,” I answer honestly, but the idea of more sends a thrill through me that I can’t deny. Just having his warm hand on my body is enough to send the butterflies in my stomach to fluttering and I lose my appetite.
He squeezes my leg, caressing it with his thumb as his expression softens for the briefest moment.
“I didn’t want to overdo it.”
And with that, all my worries about what happened simply fade into the background, and I smile at him earnestly.
But deep down, I know I can’t go to a boring charity dinner. No one there will confess to me that they killed Rebecca, of course, and any lead I did get would be smoke and mirrors. A woman like Rebecca pisses people off, and I’m sure that high society will be looking to point the finger at anyone they had a bad feeling about.
The night would be spent listening to people tell me that they think so-and-so killed her because they say Rebecca fired her, or what have you.
I have a feeling this goes a little deeper into a side of her I rarely saw. She hid it so well with her fancy clothes and her fake smile, but she married my dad before my mom’s body was even cold. She’d been working him over like a professional, but I’d let it go out of respect for him.
So what I’m wondering now is: who she was trying to work before she died?
“Earth to Sarah,” Dimitri says, squeezing my knee again. “Where’d you go off to?”
“Nowhere. Was just thinking about what I’ll wear to the charity thing.”
“Here,” he says, moving to the bartop and grabbing his wallet, opening it up and handing me a black credit card. “Get what you want. Something to make you fit in. Look extravagant and appropriately in mourning.”
“So... black.”
“Da. Black. Go to Manhattan, to Bergdorf Goodman and ask for Natasha. She knows me and will help you find something suitable.”
I put the card in the breast pocket of the shirt I stole from him, nodding.
“Sure. Uh, pricewise?”
He raises his brow before just laughing.
“Nothing you can buy will put a dent in that,” he says with a wave of his hand before returning to his breakfast.
“Dimitri,” I start in protest. I’ve been poor long enough that it makes me uncomfortable to not have a spend limit. When I lived with dad, he spoiled me, sure, but I was too young to know any different. My needs have changed since then, and a no-limit credit card wasn’t high on my list of priorities.
“Sarah, do this thing. Get some nice dresses. Not just for the event, but for dinners. I want to take you out. Show you off.”
And he can’t show me off as I already am?
He must be able to see the discomfort still on my face, because he strokes my leg again.
“Mother took from you all your father would’ve wanted you to have. It’s time to get some of that back. Time for me to start righting the wrongs I turned a blind eye towards, or even worse, the hurt I gave you.”
I lick my lips and let out a sigh. I don’t know what I’m going to do about this new shopping trip, but my mind is already on something else. How I’m going to follow him and find out who he’s interrogating.
I know he doesn’t want me there because he’s trying to protect me, but I don’t need protection anymore. I already know what he’s done and who he is, and I haven’t run scared.
“Don’t you dare try to come up with a way not to spend that money, Sarah,” Dimitri scolds. “If I don’t see an offensively large number on my statement, I’m going to drag you down there myself.”
I roll my eyes, but don’t put up a fight, and he immediately knows that my mind is elsewhere.
“I promise, Sarah, it’s not dangerous at all. Just talk to mom’s associates, see if there was anyone holding a grudge or seems to be happy at her absence. We’ll take it from there.”
“While you’re doing your own interrogation?”
He stares for a few heartbeats before he nods.
“Da. Yes. While I do my own interrogation.”
“Where?”
His jaw clenches for a second before he pushes himself up from the table.
“That’s not for you to worry about.”
“But you want my help, Dimitri. You’re gonna have to play straight with me.”
His eyes sparkle with mischievousness before that quickly fades away.
“Just trust me on this, babe. You gotta stay away from what I’m gonna do.”
“Well you already came up with busy work for me, so of course I will.”
He throws his hands up in the air and for a second I think he’s going to snap. There’s that brief flicker of anger that turns his mouth into a sneer and his gaze like daggers, and then he looks at me and it fades.
“Of course you will. But it’s not just busy work.”
“You asked for my help, Dimitri, to find Rebecca’s killer. But now it seems you know something you’re not telling me that’s taking you in a direction you don’t want me to follow.”
He takes in a deep breath, and when he speaks, his Russian accent is even thicker with his anger.
“Sarah, you will do this thing I asked of you, and you will tell me all you learned. From there, we’ll decide our next move. Together.”
I know better than to argue with him now, and even as I nod, I’m thinking of ways I can find out where he’s going. I remember his words from the last time I followed him, that they would have killed me before I even had a chance to regret spying.
I remember how angry he was when I lied to him.
And yet here I am, planning on doing it again.
15
I don’t get to Manhattan much anymore, and I like to keep it that way. Ever since I lost everything I had, I’ve hated seeing all those people going in and out of the high end stores as if it were just something they casually did for fun.
Walking out with bags and bags of clothes that cost more than my yearly rent? Yes, it makes me jealous.
So when I get off the subway at 57th Street, I’m already feeling a little uncomfortable. Dimitri acts like this is the easiest thing in the world, just walking into a store and having a personal shopper pick out lavish outfits for me, but this isn’t a part of my life anymore.
And, unlike Carolyn from that TV show, I don’t really long to go back to that world of high society.
The buildings tower around me, juice and cigars and espresso bars lining the streets, each giving off a fragrant aroma that mingle with the smell of car exhaust.
I match the quick pace of the other pedestrians, staring straight ahead, lost in thought. What have I gotten myself into? It’s one thing to try to work and earn this money, but just having Dimitri give it to me like this is cheap.
But it’s not like he’s just my step-brother any more. That ship has sailed, I guess. We don’t even have any parents left binding us together, and after last night...
What does that make us? Lovers?
Or just steps with benefits?
It’s not like I haven’t wanted and dreamed of it for a long time. Even before our ill-fated attempt when I was eighteen, I was spying on him and crushing on him hard. Snapping pictures of him in the buff when I really, really should
n’t have.
And now what am I thinking? When he’s stealing from his own company and involved with Slava again? I know he’s dangerous as hell, so why am I so attracted to him, and willing to spend his ill-gotten cash?
Because he told you to, and you don’t say ‘no’ to a man like that.
But I’ve said no to him twice, and he’s respected it both times.
I’m shaken from my reverie by a tall, broad shouldered man passing by me too close, knocking my arm. I latch onto my purse, fear jolting through me, and I glance over my shoulder but the sun is in my eyes and I can’t make him out.
At least he never stole my purse.
I quickly slink into Bergdorf Goodman, smiling at the greeter before heading down to the beauty floor. It’s a guilty pleasure still, and I can’t afford any of my old favorites that dad used to get me. If I’m going to treat myself, it’s going to start here, without a personal shopper looming.
The sales associate glances at me, giving me a smile before veering off to help someone else and I let out a sigh of relief. The music, the gorgeous decorations, the atmosphere... it’s all so familiar and strange to me at the same time. Like I’m an intruder on a world that isn’t mine anymore.
Opium perfume hides behind one of the glass cases, and instantly I can smell it, brought back to my thirteenth birthday and the beautiful gifts from my dad. Among the presents was that perfume. As he said it, I was now a lady and should smell like one.
I smile, the memory bittersweet, and inhale deeply before heading towards the nearest sales associate.
“Hey, I’m looking for Natasha?”
The curly hair brunette smiles the biggest smile I’d ever seen, offering out her hand.
“You found her! Who do I have the pleasure of meeting?”
She’s so formal, but chipper at the same time, and instantly I’m set at ease.
“Sarah. Hey. My br—” Don’t introduce him as your brother, Sarah, I chide myself. “Dimitri Brokov recommended you to me, said you could help me find a few things?”
Captive of the Hitman: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance Novel Page 23
