by Jasmin Quinn
She tasted like the nectar of the gods and he knew he was in trouble. One taste erased his memory of every other woman he’d ever known. One taste would never be enough. He would never stop wanting her. He knew this with a certainty. He lost all his thoughts as he savoured her, his tongue sliding over her mound, through her folds, into her pussy. Then back again until it settled on her clit. Licking it, scraping it with his teeth. Loving it. Then her hands were in his hair, her fingers lacing through it, pulling at it. He could hear her moans now, her pelvis thrusting, seeking his mouth, his tongue.
He had her. He’d won. But so did she, because she had him too – for now, for later, forever. He’d think about it after. Right now he was losing his mind. He pulled away from her pussy, made his way back up her body until his eyes met hers. He saw confusion, passion, desire in their depths. She didn’t want to respond, wished she hadn’t responded, and now didn’t want him to stop.
He settled his lips on hers as she wrapped her arms around his back. She kissed him, opening her mouth to his, pulling him closer. His hands were tangled in her hair as he invaded her mouth, thrusting his tongue inside her, tasting her, savouring her. She was shaking, her pelvis thrusting towards him, trying to guide him inside.
But not yet.
“What do you want, Olivia?” His voice was a sandpaper growl.
“Are you gonna to make me beg?” She was breathless, her knees squeezing his hips as she trembled under him.
“Yeah, I am. It’s nothing less than you deserve.” The words were a risk. They could have killed the mood, but he needed her to understand that she was his and she needed to be respectful of that. He tweaked her nipple a little roughly as he ground his erection against her pussy. But not inside her. Not yet.
“Hugo, please.” She thrust up, then moved her hand down and tried to grab his penis. He stopped her, grabbed both her hands, held them between his.
“Please what, Olivia.”
“Please Hugo, please,” she moaned. “Just fuck me.”
Ah, the words of a songbird and not a minute too soon. He slipped into her, tried to anyway. She was wet but tight, and her vagina contracted around him as he thrust. He tried not to hurry, wanted her to feel all of him as he made his way home. Slowly, tortuous, until he bottomed out. He was in her, she was full of him. He hissed at her tightness, her heat. She started bucking her body against his.
“Slow down, Liv,” he said between gulps of breath.
“I can’t,” she cried. “I’m so close.”
“Slow down,” he said again, withdrawing from her, teasing her by penetrating just a little, just the opening, rubbing up and down. Not enough to come out, but enough to drive her wild.
“Oh my god, Hugo.” She managed to untangle her hands from his and had her arms wrapped around his shoulders. Her breath was twining with his, pulling deep into her lungs then coming out in short gasps. He couldn’t stand it any longer. He plunged into her, hard and deep. Then out, then again. She was crying now, crying his name, begging him. And he was thrusting, matching the pace of her hips. It was too much, he was going to lose it. Then she came. Her pussy tightened around his cock, dragging him up with her. His balls tightened, his legs tensed, his breathing hitched. His orgasm pounded through his body, hitting every nerve he had. It was heady, it was overwhelming. It was Olivia.
As it ebbed, he dropped his body on hers. Now he was boneless. He had no strength to hold himself up. His head nestled in the crook of her neck as he groaned her name. She lay there under him, letting him crush her, her legs still wrapped around his hips, holding him in her, keeping him close. It was like they became one, a single entity. It was different than anything he ever knew. It was right. It was perfect.
Fuck, was he in trouble.
CHAPTER 15
Dmitrii L’vovich Mikhalev, also known as Jackman or Mr. Jackman depending on who was addressing him replayed the phone conversation he’d just had in his head. He had offered $20 million for Olivia West. Jack Creed said no.
It was absurd. Creed had no need of Jackman’s millions, but at the same time, the Las Vegas mobster was a businessman and it didn’t make sense that he would turn down the money for a woman that was truly nothing but a thorn in his side.
Jackman contemplated this. Not angry anymore though at first, he was furious. He kept his temper leashed on the call to Creed, but after he hung up, he let loose a string of curses, threw his whisky glass, felt better after it shattered. He watched as the housekeeper cleaned up the mess, then he got a new glass and refreshed his drink.
He didn’t like Creed, didn’t like his association with Rusya Savisin, the Vancouver bratva boss and his enemy. In fact, for months he’d been working with his friend, Michael Black and Michael’s brother Barak to cripple Creed. It had been guerilla warfare, a peppering of misfortunes, but Creed had a stranglehold in Vegas and it was hard to dent it too badly.
Jackman held a little admiration for the man. He thought Creed would call on Rusya Savisin for help, and he didn’t. He managed to hold his fort, face down Michael Black and somehow retain control of Vegas. He was so entrenched, but the little war had helped Barak gain a foothold, allowed him to move some of his activities further inland in the US. Jackman didn’t care one way or another. He and Barak were always at odds over Michael.
None of it really mattered for the moment. What mattered were two men. Anthony West, a once-trusted agent of his, and Hugo Marsden, a lone wolf in a sea of hungry sharks. Anthony West had betrayed Jackman and Jackman wanted blood. He had taken West in, saved his life a decade ago when the man was just a boy, in deep with the Sicilian mafia. Jackman paid the debt, got him healthy and trained him to be lethal.
What Jackman hadn’t done is earned West’s loyalty. He didn’t realize it at first. Not until it cost him the lives of some good men and women. Almost cost him the life of a trusted friend. Last Jackman heard, West was on Randall Scott’s payroll.
Randall Scott, a fucking psychopath who had the world fooled. He successfully straddled the fine line between good upstanding citizen and depraved killer. Scott was loyal only to himself and his motives were murky. He aligned with Rusya Savisin, Vancouver’s head of the Russian mob, and Jackman’s mortal enemy.
Which put Anthony West out of Jackman’s reach. He wanted the sonofabitch back in Russia where he could skin him alive, piece by piece, over a series of weeks. Then he’d find a way to get to Randall Scott, because that fucker was next.
Anthony seemed untouchable, but his widow was not. Jackman had arranged Anthony’s so-called death after the idiot married his pregnant girlfriend. Anthony was – had been – a good agent. Smart, savvy, knew his way out of trouble. Had no problem with his conscience until the woman, Olivia, showed up. Anthony got side-tracked by a piece of ass. It was messing with his mind and his ability to do his job. Jackman finally got his Disappearist on it. Nika did her job and helped him have a little plane accident.
After the wife became a widow, Anthony was able to get on with the business of being one of Jackman’s agents. But then two of Jackman’s Russian agents in Moscow were killed, their body parts mailed back to Jackman over a series of weeks and Dean Copeland almost killed. One of the darkest hours he’d ever experienced waiting for news of Dean’s status. Anthony was his handler at the time. The night Dean almost died, the night he escaped a certain death was also when Anthony disappeared. Nika investigated, concluded that Anthony was on Scott’s payroll. May have been all along.
Jackman didn’t take kindly to traitors. He wanted revenge. Managed to track down the widow, and then sought to buy her from Creed who essentially owned her. He offered an absurd amount of money because he didn’t want to fuck around with negotiations. Then Creed, on the phone, telling him someone else bought her. Paid out her debt and took her off his hands.
Jackman wanted to know who? Creed wouldn’t say. Jackman countered, saying he would offer the money to the buyer. Creed hesitated, but in the end wouldn’t give up the name. It wasn�
�t the end of the world. Jackman already had Nika on it, who quickly found the name of the buyer. Hugo Marsden. It was all so intriguing. He would have Olivia one way or another. And when he had her, he hoped he would be able to get to Anthony through her. But the stakes had risen. Hugo Marsden was right up his alley and according to Nika, he was right up Olivia West’s alley too.
Jackman had been a little bored lately. Jack Creed had shown himself to be a worthy adversary, Rusya Savisin was keeping a low profile, Randall Scott seemed untouchable and Anthony West was off the grid. But so many possibilities, all Jackman had to do was stir the pot. He could use a man like Marsden, but that women, she was going to be trouble.
CHAPTER 16
Olivia fell asleep curled into Hugo’s back. It was the best thing ever. Him, the way he played with her, played her game, woke her up, made her beg him. Now she wished she’d let him marry her. If he would do that all the time, if that’s what it would be like. It all felt so good. After he made love to her, he showered, they ate sandwiches, drank beer. Then he pulled her to him again.
She didn’t resist, didn’t lay back on the bed pretending she wasn’t interested. He kissed her hard, forcing his tongue into her mouth, finding hers, sucking it. When she tried to move him to her breasts, he stopped her. “Your turn Olivia. Time to fuck me.”
He lay on the bed, on his side, naked. Olivia, who’d never been shy, felt a blush creep over her. It’s not like she hadn’t done these things before. Good god. But not since Tony and not with Hugo and also, not with Hugo. “What do you want?” she said.
He flipped to his back, tucked his hands behind his head and gazed up at the ceiling. “The full meal deal, please.”
She slapped him on his stomach. “Don’t be a prick, Hugo. I don’t even know what that means.”
He looked over at her and grinned. His smile was so fucking sexy it made her stomach somersault. “Make it up as you go along, Blondie.” Then he wiggled his body into the bedding, returned his gaze to the ceiling and waited.
Olivia knelt over him, contemplating him, staring down into his face, into his intense blue eyes. Or were they blue? Maybe grey, flecks of black. She didn’t know. But they were gorgeous. She brought her lips to his forehead and kissed it, gently. Ran her tongue down the side, over his temple, across his cheek to the corner of his mouth. Then she kissed him. He let her, didn’t kiss her back. She brought her hands to his face, cradled his head, shifting it towards her. Kissed his lips long and hard, forcing his mouth open, forcing her tongue inside. He kissed her back then, his hand pressed into the back of her head, forcing her face closer to his. When she came up for air, he said, “What else have you got?”
She frowned. She knew what he wanted. She kissed him again on the lips then small kisses down his torso to his penis. It was erect. She marveled at it, remembered how full she felt, how complete, when he entered her. She circled his cock, gripping him firmly with both hands, running up and down his length. He groaned and closed his eyes. She moved one hand to his heavy balls, touched them gently, massaged them, then brought her mouth to them, her tongue touching them, licking the seam, playing with them as she sucked.
His penis jerked like it was jealous and she ignored it, instead, kissing the inside of his thigh, giving it a nip, enough to elicit a growl from Hugo. “Cock,” he said.
She looked past his penis, over his hard stomach and chest to his face. “I thought you said it was my turn.”
Hugo’s eyes were closed, his hands behind his head. “Changed my mind. You’re my plaything. Do as your told.”
Olivia looked at him, started to say something and stopped. This was what she promised him, she reminded herself. This is what they agreed to. Sex in exchange for his services. It was a business deal. She may as well enjoy it while it lasted, but hurt lashed at her anyway, enough to make her desire ebb. She was going to get stomped on over this. Men were pigs. Hugo was no different. There was no nobility, no such thing as a white knight charging in to rescue her. Hugo was going to take what he wanted from her and then when this was all done, he was going to move on. It’s what men did.
She brought her lips to his cock, drew it into her mouth and sucked at it, but she felt cold, lost, stupidly hurt. He felt it too. He sat up, pulling her up with his hands. “What’s wrong, Liv?”
Olivia shrugged, turned from him. “Nothing’s wrong, Hugo. It’s a business deal. You want me to suck your cock, I’ll suck your cock.”
He groaned, “Oh, Olivia.” He cradled her head between his big hands, brought his forehead to hers, looked into her eyes. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“But it’s true, isn’t it?”
“You know, it could be we’re overthinking everything just a little.” He took her hand, brought it to his cock, wrapped her fingers around it. “How ‘bout we do this. I won’t ask you to marry me again until we find your husband and make you a widow. And you won’t think of this as paying me for finding your husband. Let’s just fuck for the sake of fucking.”
His words were about as romantic as a deranged chihuahua with a handgun. “Wow, Hugo, you really have a way with words.”
Hugo smirked at her sarcasm. “I want you Olivia. I want to make love to you, fuck you, screw you, eat you. And I want to do it again and again. I want you to suck my cock, sit on my face, and fuck me into oblivion. I can’t put it into any other words. Because those are the words.”
He kissed her hard on the lips. “You’ll be my plaything. I’ll be yours. Until we aren’t anymore, if that day ever comes.”
Olivia closed her eyes, contemplated his words, decided she could live with them. For the time being anyway. Maybe she was going to get hurt. It was too soon to tell, but what the hell, he knew his way around her body. “Okay,” she said.
“Okay?”
“Okay.”
“Good.” He grinned. “Cock.”
She bit her bottom lip as he said it, smiled a little, then dropped her lips to his cock and took him in her mouth. He fell back on the bed, his fingers laced through her hair, tugging on it as she pulled him in as deep as she could, then back up, slowly, using her tongue to tickle the ridges and veins. He groaned as she did this. She was being careful not to overstimulate him, like he had been to her.
She wanted his hardness inside her, she wanted to feel his cock, hitting deep inside like before. She so wanted another of the orgasms he was really great at giving. When his breathing sped up, when his hand tightened in her hair, when he tried to force his way to the edge of her throat, she pulled off him.
Her need had been climbing as she sucked him, but she’d had no stimulation, needed some, brought her fingers to her mouth for a little lubrication then to her pussy, touching her clit. He opened his eyes when she sat up. “Olivia, get your ass on my cock, now. You can get yourself off while you’re fucking me.”
She climbed on him, straddled him, then guided him inside her. He filled her, invaded her like a Viking. Ravaged her senses. “Oh god,” she groaned.
“Name’s Hugo,” he grunted as she moved her hips in time with his thrusts, dropping her hands to his belly. It was almost too much to bear. She was climbing but wasn’t making it, trying hard, gripping, but not enough. He knew, somehow he knew. He flipped her over onto her back with urgency, pulled out, dropped his head between her thighs and tongued her hard, stroke after stroke until she was getting hoarse from crying out.
“Are you ready, Liv?” he gasped as he crawled back up her body, his arms wrapped around her thighs, bringing her legs to his shoulders as he plunged back inside her.
Olivia moaned, “Yes. Oh god, I’m coming…” And then she did as he plundered her. He didn’t give her the space to let her orgasm peak and then ebb away. Instead as it shuddered through her, he pounded into her, the tide of pleasure building a second time, an urgency rushing through her. A sensitivity so depraved and then she peaked again. It was toe curling as it coursed through her. One orgasm still ebbing while the second hit. Never in her life had
she! And then Hugo shouting her name as he came. He shuddered under her hands, his fingers gripping her thighs, hard, painful pressure and then he fell on her, letting her legs go, settling between her thighs. Heaven, fucking heaven.
She almost cried, the afterward was so perfect. When he rolled off her, onto his back, dragging her with him. Tightening his arms around her. Gripping her like he would hold her forever. They nodded off together. Sometime in the night, he turned on his side, but drew her arm around his waist, forcing her to curl into his back. She wanted to cry, it was that good. It was something she hadn’t known before. Hadn’t realized how good sex could be with the right man.
But that made her worried. She thought she might be falling in love.
CHAPTER 17
Olivia woke up alone in the bed. She heard the shower in the bathroom, thought perhaps she should join Hugo, but then decided against it. The shower looked a little suspicious and she didn’t relish being pressed up against the tiles. She stretched her body, ran her hands over her breasts, tweaking a nipple on the way down. She caressed her belly, circled her belly-button, checking for lint, then settled her fingers on her pussy. Stroking her folds, running her fingers through the mess Hugo made of her last night.
Fuck, he was good. No, not good, great. Amazing really. He knew exactly what he needed to do to wake her body up. She was pissed at first, felt her body’s betrayal straight through to the core. Now she thought she might be addicted. Sex was never this good, had never been this good. Not before Tony, not with Tony.
She rubbed her clit with her forefinger as she thought of Hugo, of his handling of her last night. So good when she needed a little more to get her ready to come. How he’d pulled out of her, practically picked her up, brought his mouth to her clit and savaged it. Her breath tightened in her chest as she replayed the scene, her strokes speeding up. She didn’t hear the shower turn off, didn’t hear Hugo walk out of the bathroom. Didn’t see him looming over her because of course her eyes were closed.
