“Bozhe Moi!” he curses in Russian as he lurches back up, our lips popping apart. A shudder runs through his hard, ripped body as he lets loose of my breast and takes hold of both my hips. “On your knees,” he commands in a gravelly husk of a voice.
I obey.
Instinctively, I want to. Need to. Whether it’s that thin layer of warning lacing his voice, or just the fact that every bit of my body is crying for more, I quickly reposition myself to his liking.
But when he presses into me again, he goes deeper than ever, I’m sent forward in my shock. He captures my hips, roughly tugging me back into place, and I dig my hands into the bed.
There is no escaping from his passions; he holds me in sway, that iron grip of his unbreakable. And now each new thrust of his hips means a loud slap of his hard body against my ass cheeks, making the flesh ripple with each new noisy smack.
“That’s my girl,” he growls approvingly, but to contradict his words, he cracks his palm against my ass cheek, a singular, loud impact that makes me gasp out, and then he follows it up with another.
It sends a jolt of pain through me, but the shiver that follows is anything but bad. Suddenly my nipples stiffen even more, the sensation almost uncomfortable as my legs spread and I take him in deeper.
I never could have imagined that his punishing me could feel so amazing.
Punishing? Is it still punishment when he just did it for the hell of it? As reward for me being good?
I’m not sure, but I’m getting light headed, clinging to the bedsheets as he takes control of me further, making me teeter upon my hands and knees. He’s like a freight train, and though his hard body glistens with a thin sheen of perspiration over his hard, stony muscles, he’s not tired, not even a little weary.
“It took too long for this,” he rasps out, rubbing my stinging ass cheek so threateningly. “But you were worth the pain.”
Every time he rams into me, an electric jolt sparks throughout me, and my body so desperately wants — needs — to come. It’s cruel to keep me on the edge like this, and yet...
I love it. I love how in control he is, and even when he denies me that ultimate pleasure, the buildup, the tension, is like a drug I can’t get enough of.
“Dimitri!”
His broad shoulders tense up, and all those gloriously toned muscles clench and bulge. He’s fighting the pleasure now, I realize, trying to savor me a while longer. But I don’t even know how much more I can stand!
“Sarah,” he growls out between his grinding teeth, and I feel his dick swell within me, straining the walls of my tightly clenching pussy. He’s a beast of a man, and those hands grasping my thighs still hold me in place, helping move me forward as his hips tug back, then pulling me in again as he thrusts forward.
“Oh God,” I curse under my breath, my head swimming with all the sensations. He feels so amazing, and even without him touching my clit, I can feel that pleasure mounting, getting ready to send me over the edge.
Our bodies are working in unison, both of us so needy for release, for that ultimate form of bliss. Even knowing how close I am, though, doesn’t prepare me for when it finally strikes me, fast and furious as he begins to pound into me as hard as he can.
I’m a writhing, twitching mess as he hammers into me, but he lets loose such a lion’s roar that it quakes the decorations upon the wall. He’s a furious font as he ploughs in harder and fast, spurting his creamy seed as he strikes my ass cheek, makes me gasp out amid my own climax, then reaches in around to torture my over stimulated clit.
It’s all so much — too much! — but he’s driving us both to our limits as he pounds in, spurting stream after stream of creamy seed into me. Both of us being milked for every moment of pleasure, every droplet of thick come and every gush of warm honey.
The pleasure lingers forever and fades too fast, all at once, and I’m left a quivering, mewling mess. He thrusts into me a few more times, slower now, lazier, just drawing out the last of our bliss and sending another aftershock through me until he finally withdraws.
I pant for breath as he walks to the bathroom, returning a second later with a soothing, warm wash cloth. His face is flushed, his smile deadly, as he presses the cloth against my battered sex.
He cups my pussy, and the warm soothing cloth stems the flow of his creamy seed as it drools from my puffy slit. And in this moment, he’s proving that while he can be a total prick, he cares about me. Even dotes on me.
“That was more like it,” he says with a wry smile, leaning in and placing a tender kiss upon my temple, then gingerly brushing away the few stray strands of hair glued to my forehead with perspiration.
I smile as I relax, his tender touches easing me down from the earlier high. It’s in this moment, when he looks at me with such affection, that I really start wondering if I’ve gotten in over my head.
Not because he’s dangerous. Not because he’s potentially in the Russian mafia.
It’s because I might actually be totally and utterly in love with him.
17
I’m not proud of what I did. I’m really not.
But I put a tracker on Dimitri’s phone. He’ll kill me if he finds out, I just know it, but I’m taking that risk because he insists on driving me to the charity ball. He’s likely figured that I’d try to find some way around this, and he’s right.
He leans in to kiss me as we sit in his car outside the manor. I’m expecting a chaste peck on the cheek, but instead I get intense passion, his mouth on mine, his hand cupping my cheek.
“Don’t get in over your head, Sarah. Just relax, enjoy the night, and try to find some information we can make use of.”
“I know. I’ll be fine, Dimitri. No one’s going to try anything at a charity event.”
He looks towards the large building that looks more like a museum than a home and gives his nod of approval.
“You’re welcome to come back to my place, but I likely won’t be home tonight,” he says.
He must see that it rankles me, and his fingers caress the spot behind my ear that he found during one of our trysts.
“Don’t worry. I’ve handled worse than what I will tonight. I promise,” he says.
I nod, but I know that as soon as I go in there, say hello to a few people, and make an appearance, I’ll have done my duty well enough to sneak off for the night. Especially if I can find someone to say something upsetting to me.
Not my proudest hour, but they never said it’d be easy trying to peek into the seedy underbelly of Brooklyn.
I don’t know what he’s planning, not really, but if he’s going to be out all night, there’s always going to be a risk of something really awful happening.
That’s why I put the tracker on his phone. Not just so that I can spy, and try to find out what’s really happening, but that I need to keep an eye on him. He told me before that if they knew I was spying, that I’d be killed without a second thought.
Yet I’m doing it again.
“Will you call me to let me know everything’s okay?” I ask.
He shakes his head, though, and his dark eyes stare into mine.
“I won’t have reception. And you need to not worry about me,” he says.
“Tough luck there, Dimitri,” I say with an exasperated sigh, getting out of the vehicle and slamming the door closed. Of course, the passenger side window is still rolled down from earlier, so lot of good that does me for having the last word in our argument.
“Just have fun tonight, Sarah. Loosen up, have some drinks, get a cab home safe,” he says, and then his eyes drop down, over my fancy new outfit.
The one he’d defiled me in earlier.
“I wish I could come with you, show you off to all those pompous assholes,” he says with a bit of lightness to his tone.
I roll my eyes, folding my arms beneath my chest.
“Nothing’s stopping you, especially since you think someone in here might know who murdered your mother. That’s why you’ve stuck
me on this job, right? You figured I’d use my detective skills to schmooze with people I hated when my dad was still alive?”
“Sarah,” he sighs, defeat weighing heavy on his shoulders. “Let’s not get into this. Go. Once we are through this night, we will talk about...”
He trails off, and I can tell by his expression that I’m not getting anything more out of him.
“Fine, Dimitri. Go. Don’t do anything stupid.”
He grins at me, but drives off without making a promise. Not a good sign.
I sigh and turn towards the mansion. I hate this stuff, I always have. I know that the rich kids always have a bad rap of being spoiled, and maybe once upon a time I was, but being homeless and struggling?
That knocked me out of that real fast. I grew up more in those few days on the streets and the couple of years struggling just to eat than I care to think about, and I like who it made me. I’m harder now. Stronger. More independent.
Not independent enough that you refused Rebecca’s offer for financial security, I chide myself.
And with that morose thought, I head into the party.
For all my misery in having to go to this event instead of where the real action was, I have to admit that walking into a party in thousands of dollars’ worth of fine clothing is a boost to my ego. Not much of one, but at least I only feel out of place rather than looking out of place.
I smile pleasantly at the greeters before looking around at the large foyer ahead of me. Beautiful marble flooring and a staircase that likely cost more than the house I’m renting the basement of. Lights twinkle, the chandelier sending rainbows about the ceiling and floor.
It’s still quiet, but I make my way into the ballroom. Classical music played by a live band soothes my ears, relaxing the tension in my shoulders as I slowly start to unwind. Going to an event without a friend or acquaintance is akin to torture, I’m certain.
But when Mr. O’Reilly touches my bare arm and his ruddy face lights up, I know this is even worse. He used to be a business partner of my father, one that my dad never fully trusted and was always certain he was skimming off the top.
Dad couldn’t prove anything, but I trusted my dad’s business instincts if nothing else.
“Sarah! I thought that was you. Oh my, it’s been four... no, five years now, hasn’t it? You were only sixteen then, I remember you had your party.”
I smile tightly, looking down at the stubby, unpleasant man.
“Must be about that, then.”
“You’ve grown, haven’t you!”
I’m barely aware of the rest of the conversation as he drones on with niceties, and condolences for Rebecca’s death. He’s the drabbest, dullest person and when I spot Samantha out of the corner of my eyes, I’m only too excited to excuse myself and go towards her.
Sam is the daughter of one of Rebecca’s friends, and while she and I never had a lot in common, she has the biggest mouth of anyone I knew.
Two birds, one stone.
“Sarah!” she says with a big, fake smile, her lanky arms wrapping around me as she pulls me into an embrace. “You look so much older with that hair, I barely recognized you! And you’ve put on a few pounds too, haven’t you?” she asks as if that were the most normal of things to say.
My self-esteem now perched on a craggy cliff, I give her my best fake smile.
“You look great.” Unfortunately, I mean it. She’s always been supermodel material, and in her expensive gown, even more so.
“Thank you, thank you. Jerome, my personal trainer, is just a God, seriously. You should look him up. I mean, he is g-a-y, but who isn’t these days?” She bats her impossibly long lashes, glancing towards the bar. I’m not sure if she’s hunting for fresh meat or looking for someone she knows, and before I can ask, she picks up again.
“So I heard you were, like, totally kicked out a couple years ago, huh? That must’ve sucked, especially with Rebecca taking all of daddy’s money. Though I guess since you’re here, things were smoothed out before she died?”
She’s talking about me being kicked out and Rebecca being dead like some people talk about the weather: completely indifferent small talk.
“Yea, I guess. She contacted me a few weeks ago.”
“Oh, yea, you must be turning twenty-one soon, huh? Gotta make arrangements for that trust!” Her red mouth warps into an excited smile as she wiggles her fingers to someone behind me.
“Trust?”
“Duh, your trust fund. God, Rebecca was always complaining to my sister about that, about how she was looking for a way around paying out. I guess that’s why she kicked you out, thinking maybe if you were estranged, she’d figure something out.”
I can’t believe what I’m hearing. Samantha’s acting as if this is no big deal, but I had no idea my father had put aside any money for me.
“Did she ever say how much?”
“Oh, you know I don’t like to gossip, Rebecca.”
Her blue eyes sparkle and I know I’m losing her interest. She’s already spotted someone else.
“Oh come on, I’m going to get it soon anyways. Why not spoil the surprise?” I say with a curve to my lips that I hope makes me look sly. Like we’re in on a secret together.
Samantha giggles and I have her hooked.
“Oh well, when you put it like that, when your father died he was worth $1.1 billion. Didn’t you ever google him? He was all over the lists. Since Rebecca’s expanded her own enterprise, I’d say both you and your brother are in for quite a good time. Especially if those rumors about her connections are true.”
I’m in shock. I knew my dad had a lot of money, but I didn’t figure it was that much. He’d always been fairly low profile about his earnings.
“Hello? Earth to Sarah.”
I shake my head to clear me of the stupor.
“How’s Dimitri anyways? Still yummy as always?”
“I gotta go.” I turn instantly, and head for the door. I need some air.
“Wow, rude,” Samantha mutters behind me, and I brush past Mr. O’Reilly on the way out.
The night air has a slight hint of fall in it, and I’m grateful for how it cleanses my lungs. I gulp it in, my head feeling light, my stomach clenched. I go over the conversation in my head, over and over.
Is that why Rebecca was offering me that money? Was she trying to buy me off? She offered me half a million dollars which was unbelievable, but if dad had left me a trust fund with more than that...
My mind goes back to the contract that Rebecca had me sign when I accepted the job. One of the lines was legalese, telling me I had no right to sue for any other money in the future. I hadn’t thought anything of it at the time, but now?
I feel like I’m going to be sick.
But wait, what did Samantha say? The rumors of Rebecca’s connections?
Did she mean... mob connections?
I whip my phone out of my purse, looking at the time. It’s already after ten. I call up the app to track Dimitri. He said that there’d be no cell reception where he was going, but at least I’ll get the place where he last had reception.
I call for a cab. I should go home and change, but the last hit on the cell tower was already half an hour ago. Whatever Dimitri had in mind, it is already in progress.
“Where ya headin’?” asked the cabby as I slide into the backseat.
“I need to make a quick stop at Pacific Street, then 35th Street and 2nd Ave., Brooklyn. I’ll tip for your time.”
“Sure, doll,” he says, pulling out of the building and heading me towards my home. I know I’m running out of time, but I’ll be no help to anyone without changing my outfit, and grabbing my camera.
And my gun.
18
I get out at the intersection, paying the driver before looking down the dark street. Cars that look partially abandoned litter the area, bars on all of the windows. Suddenly I don’t feel so confident, and I pull my black hoodie a little tighter around my head.
Th
is is the area that Dimitri was last in, so he must be in one of these buildings.
But what one?
There’s an alarm going off at the end of the road, the wailing of the car alarm echoing off the high buildings and adding to my uncertainty. Maybe I should just go home, and listen to Dimitri for once. Maybe I really don’t want to be here, and see what it is my lover’s doing in this shady place.
I suck in a deep breath of air, walking slowly and looking for anything that might lead me to where Dimitri is.
I don’t see his car, and I keep to the side of the buildings, trying not to draw any attention to myself, even as my heart pounds in my chest. I’ve gone from my biggest stress being filing season to stalking my brother.
It didn’t even seem like a long fall.
No street lamps line the road, and I can barely make anything out. I slump against the wall, considering what to do next. I can’t just barge into any of these buildings, looking for Dimitri. It’s useless.
I make my way back towards the marine terminal and the flickering, yellow light, when the alarm behind me stops. I can suddenly hear my own steps on the sidewalk, but worse than that, I hear someone else’s. I can’t see them, even when I glance around, and my pace quickens.
Dimitri warned me they’d kill me if they found out I was spying before, and if they catch me here, in the middle of the night...
Panic grips my chest, and I’m practically running down the side street, but the heavier steps behind me quicken to match my pace. And then faster. He’s not far behind me, those thick thuds getting closer and closer.
I nearly run into a platform, lifted off the ground by a couple of feet, used by trucks for unloading material. My fingers grip it, and I find, blissfully, it’s not solid. I have no idea what’s beneath it, but I duck under in a crouch, hoping to throw whoever else was in the alley off my scent.
Captive of the Hitman: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance Novel Page 25
