“I want you under the table, on your knees, your mouth around my cock.”
“I see.” She drew the two words out, but now heat had turned to fire. “When?”
“As soon as you’re finished with your meal. I intend to be the dessert.”
She ran the tip of her tongue around her lips. “Since you put it that way …” She slipped off her chair.
“Wait.”
Her heart beat faster. She loved the way he talked. The accent. The command. More, she loved the blue eyes darkening, all the ice melting, leaving those twin blue flames licking at her skin. She didn’t move a muscle.
“Take off your shirt and then drop down right there and crawl around to me.” As he spoke, he turned his chair slightly to an angle, so she would no longer be under the table. He widened his legs to accommodate her.
She reached for the hem of her T-shirt and pulled it over her head. She took her time folding the material, liking the way he looked at her naked body. She had breasts, high and firm, with hard little nipples, already in tight peaks just because he was using that voice of his. After placing her shirt on the chair, she went down to her hands and knees. The moment she did, she felt her leopard wake—and she woke with a vengeance.
Her body went from feeling sensuous, to feeling on fire. Blazing hot. She let the feeling consume her. Every cell in her body had come alive with want. With need. With an all-consuming hunger for Timur. His gaze burned through her skin to brand her bones. She wanted him. Not just because he had those blue flames for eyes, or he was so scorching hot and gorgeous, but because he was danger and intrigue and he could cook.
She crawled between his thighs and knelt up, deliberately brushing her swaying breasts against the material of his sweats. The friction felt amazing. He didn’t wait for her to slide his sweats over his hips, he did so, pulling his heavy erection out for her.
Her heart pounded as her eyes met his. She found her legs were shaking and she was glad she was on her knees because she might have fallen. For the first time in her life, she was giving herself to someone. Letting him see her, because he looked at her with his complete focus and saw her. Not through her, he actually saw her and what coming like this to him meant to her. It wasn’t a game lovers played. This was about something deep inside her answering his call. This was about her leopard answering his male’s call.
His cock was in his hand, a hard, thick shaft of pure steel, forged into beautiful artwork. Her breath caught in her throat. She loved the way he looked and marveled at how big he could get. There was no way all that was fitting in her mouth. When he was in her body, he stretched her ability to accommodate him. Still, her mouth watered, and she couldn’t help leaning into him, lifting her face toward him.
His hand was unexpectedly gentle as he touched her forehead, a small caress before he settled his palm at the back of her head. She felt his fingers, very slowly, pull her hair into his fist. The small bite of pain deepened the desire already beginning to rage through her body.
“Open your mouth for me, Ashe.”
She did. Instantly. Wanting him. Wanting what he was offering. Her pulse pounded through her clit and her hungry body clenched emptily. She felt herself trembling.
“Are you afraid?” For the first time his voice was strained.
She kept her gaze fixed on his cock, on the mesmerizing rhythm of his hand as it pumped up and then slid down. She shook her head. “Only that I might not please you. I want to give you the same kind of pleasure that you gave me but you’re … intimidating.” It was the only word she could settle on. He was. And she wanted him as far gone as he’d made her. Mindless and out of control. She wanted him to feel the emotion she was experiencing just offering herself to him.
He cupped one breast, his thumb gliding over her nipple. “You will not do anything but please me, Ashe. You did as I asked. You’re giving me you. What more could I possibly want?”
He slid the wet, slick head of his cock across her lips. It was warm. Firm. Like velvet. She opened her mouth and took him in, showing him without words that she was very serious in her veneration, in her complete devotion to the art of devouring her dessert.
9
TIMUR extracted himself from the naked woman sprawled over top of him. He’d worn her out finally, after hours of taking her, showing her various ways a man could take a woman. She’d never once balked, or protested, or even hesitated. She’d said yes to everything, and he’d wrung a number of cataclysmic orgasms out of her, allowing very little rest in between.
Once, she’d been drifting off to sleep and his body had gone into overdrive, his cock so hard he was afraid it might break. He knew part of it was she was close to the emergence and her hormones and pheromones were riding the two of them. He didn’t care what it was, only that when he took her, driving hard, rougher than he intended, she hadn’t stopped him. She’d pushed back every bit as hard. Every bit as rough.
She liked to play, and when they were done, she liked to be close. He found he did too. He wanted her on top of him or under him. He wanted to feel every inch of her body covering him like a blanket. Her soft breasts, her sweet pussy, her arms and all that hair brushing his skin every time she moved. He needed the contact in the same way he needed air to breathe. When he’d put her there and told her not to move, she’d cooperated, just as she had when he was inside her.
The vibration from his phone had alerted him to the fact that the hit team was on the move. He didn’t want them anywhere near Ashe, but his crew couldn’t take them at the motel. It was little better than a flophouse, one that prostitutes frequented, bringing their johns. That made for too many witnesses. They had set a trap, but the team had to actually take the bait. In this case, it appeared they had.
Timur would never use Fyodor or Evangeline to draw out an experienced hit team. He wouldn’t want Ashe to know he had already killed the two men he suspected had killed her parents or that if it wasn’t them specifically, this newer team had to be the ones. She would want to be a part of taking them down, and he wasn’t risking her. Kyanite had texted the members of the new hit team via the cell phones they found on the dead bodies.
It was impossible to know for certain who had sent them, or which lair they came from, because they had no real identifying marks on them or papers. No one had recognized them. Still, Timur surmised that they had been sent from Lazar. In any case, it didn’t matter very much, not when they were there to kill the people he loved.
He dressed, and then picked up the can of spray Drake Donovan gave him. The spray had been developed by, of all things, a female shifter who owned a perfume factory. She grew her own flowers and hybrids. This particular combination covered all scents of a leopard’s passing. He stopped in mid-spray. Why hadn’t any of the security guards smelled the hit team? Not one single person, Ashe included, mentioned scenting them. So where had their scent been?
Very slowly, Timur put down the can of spray. It wasn’t something one could purchase. It wasn’t for sale. Only a handful of men knew of its existence. So why hadn’t anyone smelled the leopards before they’d gotten so close to Ashe?
He put a knee to the bed, hating to wake her. She deserved to sleep. He knew she was scheduled to work in the early morning hours and that was only a couple of hours away. He wanted to be back by then, but if not, he’d have guards escort her to the bakery. If not the shop, they’d be going to his brother’s estate where he knew she would be safe.
“Baby, wake up for me.”
A small frown flitted across her face, but her lashes lifted. She blinked sleepily, and he found himself looking into her drowsy eyes. His heart clenched and he couldn’t help but push back the strands of hair that had come loose from her thick braid during one of their wild sex romps.
“When you were attacked in the bakery, did you smell him? Did your leopard?”
Her frown deepened, making his cock jerk hard. It didn’t take much when she was around. He was beginning to think he was insatiable when it cam
e to Ashe.
“No. That’s weird, isn’t it?”
His heart jumped. “Get up right now, Ashe. Get dressed.”
The urgency to his tone was nothing compared to what he was feeling. He swore under his breath as he caught up his phone to warn the others. Don’t rely on smell. They can disguise their scent. That’s how they got to Ashe’s parents. They didn’t see the hit team coming because there was no way to identify them. Look inside the motel room.
Ashe hadn’t argued with him. She leapt out of bed and caught at her clothes, dragging on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt.
“Pack a bag. Hurry, baby. Fast. You’ve got two minutes to get whatever you think you need.”
She pulled a bag from the closet. “This is my ‘go’ bag. I’ve got everything in it to run.”
He was going to remember that. He caught her arm and gestured toward the door leading to the main part of the house while he looked at a text from the crew outside the residence.
Sorry, in the wind. They’re in the wind.
It was what he expected to hear, but he still wanted to put a fist through the wall. He should have gone with his first gut instinct—taken Ashe to Fyodor’s estate and made certain she was safe.
We’re coming out. Check rooftops and the trees.
Ashe was close to the front door. He made a sound and she halted, turning her head to look at him over her shoulder.
“I’m armed,” she acknowledged. “Two guns and a knife.”
“Most likely you won’t need them, malen’kiy smirch , but if you do, don’t hesitate and go for a kill.” He caught her shirt and pulled her up to her toes, looking down into her eyes so she knew he meant business. Inside, he was as cold as ice. A fucking freezer. He would kill in a heartbeat for her and never look back. “Do you understand me?”
“Yes, Timur. I won’t hesitate, and it will definitely be a kill shot. I don’t want them getting back up and coming at either one of us.”
He realized she was more apt to protect him than herself. He was staying close. He brushed a kiss over her forehead and released her. “Give me another minute. The boys will be waiting for us outside. They’re clearing the area and the car again, just to be safe.”
He texted Gorya. Get Fyodor and Evangeline to the safe room. He’s going to protest, and you don’t take any shit off him. Get him in there even if you have to knock the son of a bitch over the head. He might get mad, but I’ll come after you if anything happens to either one of them so don’t let him give you any crap.
Consider it done.
Timur didn’t envy his cousin the job of taking Fyodor, a man of action, to the safe room to wait it out with Evangeline, although having Evangeline there was an advantage. Fyodor would do anything to protect her. Timur knew that feeling now, the unreasonable fear that had him gripped by the balls. He had to protect Ashe at any cost to anyone or to himself. That was all that mattered to him right then.
“You stay tucked in close to me, Ashe. Don’t touch my arm, but stay right into my body.”
She nodded and drew her weapon, just as he drew his.
“Stay in sync with me. I’ll keep my steps shorter.” He was significantly taller than she was. “I’m not going to be looking at you, baby, so it’s up to you to stay tucked into my side.” He had pulled on his long trench coat. He had multiple weapons in it. It also gave him the advantage of having a garment that would flow around her as they moved together so if a sniper was taking aim at her, he would lose her with every step.
“Coming out.” He spoke into the small radio.
The front door was pulled open and Ashe stepped into Kyanite’s protection until Timur got through the doorway and closed the heavy oak door behind him. He moved forward, and then Ashe was between Kyanite and Timur, walking fast toward the car that was parked right out front. It was already turned toward the street, and the engine was on, with Rodion at the wheel.
They made it to the car, Ashe tucked in close to his body. She didn’t brush his arm, but he could feel her body against his with every step. She was silent and steady, setting a fast pace so they reached the vehicle quickly.
Kyanite and Timur swept the rooftops again, checking to make certain there was no sniper sitting up high waiting to get his shot. They were using Timur’s car, which was armor-plated for Fyodor and had bulletproof glass. That didn’t make them safe from every weapon, but certainly the majority.
Timur slid into the seat beside Ashe and took her hand. Kyanite slipped up front and Rodion immediately put the car in motion. The entire sequence hadn’t taken them more than a minute. Timur exhaled and brought her hand to his face. “How would they get hold of the spray that removes all odors so our cats can’t smell them?” He pulled out his phone again and texted his brother. Talk to Drake. He has to investigate this slip. We need a meeting immediately. If we can’t get all the players together, we need the ones who know about that scent-blocker.
He rubbed the palm of Ashe’s hand back and forth across the dark stubble on his face while he waited for Fyodor’s reply. Texted Drake. He doesn’t know. Hasn’t heard any rumors. It would have had to have been sold on the black market if it was going to the Russians. He’s contacting Sasha in Miami. If it was offered, it had to go through him.
Timur disagreed. He’d met Sasha, and the man was pretty straightforward about joining them. He wasn’t going to fuck it up for a can of spray. That would mean he’d sold them out, and Sasha was more vulnerable than anyone right then with the exception of … Emilio Bassini. They should have killed the fucker when they were cleaning closets. Damn.
Does Bassini have ties to anyone in New Orleans?
Don’t have a clue, I’ve asked Drake. He’s leader of a lair there. He’ll know that information.
Check to see if Ulisse Mancini or Fredo Lombardo have ties there. He included the other crime bosses with close territories. Do they ever do business with anyone from that region? Anything, any tie at all, no matter how remote.
He waited impatiently and found himself biting down on the pads of Ashe’s fingers. She jumped but didn’t pull her hand from his. Maybe, without thinking, he’d bitten down a little too hard. He stroked his tongue over the marks and then kissed her.
His phone lit up. Both Mancini and Lombardo had business ties to Rafe Cordeau.
Recently, Rafe Cordeau had been killed and his body burned so no one would ever find him. Joshua Tregre had taken over his territory. Joshua was one of them. He would never sell them out. Timur glanced up to see where they were, how close to Fyodor’s estate. It was located out of San Antonio and up in the hill country. Even driving fast, it would take a few more minutes to get there.
Timur wanted to move Evangeline’s bakery closer to the estate. She was flown in each morning by helicopter, but that didn’t help when they needed to travel fast and they didn’t have access to one.
Is Tregre doing business with either of them?
Both. Not a lot. They wanted in on the opium business that was being run through the perfume sales a while back. That side of the business was shut down.
Timur wanted to bellow with rage. What the fuck was wrong with his brother that he hadn’t imparted any of this information to him? You didn’t think to tell me this?
Drake shut that down, so no, I didn’t.
This is the same perfume business where the scent-blocker comes from? His head was about to explode. He was head of security for Fyodor. What he knew, Sevastyan knew, and Sevastyan was head of security for his brother Mitya. They were all at risk. What the hell was wrong with everyone?
Who owns the perfume factory?
A woman by the name of Charisse Mercier, along with her brother Armande. They were cleared of all charges.
Who the fuck was guilty? It was like pulling teeth to get information. Important information that could save lives. He was punching Drake Donovan in the face the next time he saw the man. Everything should have been disclosed at their last meeting, rather than, because Drake took care of i
t, just not mentioning it.
Joshua Tregre’s uncles. The opium was put in boxes by Charisse’s mother and the two uncles took it out to buyers by boat at night in the swamp. The mother was some piece of work. A serial killer. That’s how they found out about the opium.
Timur closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. Immediately, Ashe was on her knees on the seat beside him, her fingers digging into his neck, massaging the tension out of him. She was strong, pushing through the knots to ease them out. It was heaven, but more importantly, no one, not even his mother, had ever noticed when he was in any kind of discomfort.
“Thanks, baby, but you need to wear your seat belt. If for any reason we have to take off fast, I don’t want you hurt.” He didn’t want her to stop with the neck massage either. Her hands were amazing.
“I’m a leopard. I have great balance,” she reminded. “Whatever you’re reading on your phone is making you tense and angry. Stop reading it until we’re at your brother’s place.”
He found himself smiling instead of wanting to rake his claws over the leather seats. “My brother has always played things close to his chest. Now he’s out there, exposed, and he can’t afford to do that, but he still wants to be the soldier instead of the man at the helm. He’s going to get killed doing that.”
Timur leaned into Ashe and brushed his mouth over hers. The moment his lips touched hers, he felt a strange rolling in the region of his heart. “Moy malen’kiy smerch,” he murmured. “Sit down and put that seat belt on.”
She continued to kneel up on the seat beside him, her amber-colored eyes looking into his. He felt that look right down to his soul. Something twisted in his chest. Hard. Broke open. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her down onto his lap. Then he was kissing her. He knew better than to kiss her in public, even in the backseat of his car, not when anyone was around. Kissing Ashe was like lighting a stick of dynamite. The two of them went up in flames.
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