by RC Boldt
Her lips part on a silent gasp, and she practically saturates my cock. “That’s it,” I grit out. “Get my cock all wet with your sweetness.” Moving a hand inward, I press my thumb on her swollen clit, and as soon as I circle it, she rewards me with more wetness.
“Fuck.” My voice is harsh, ragged. Her movements grow wilder as she works herself over my dick, my thumb relentless on her clit. My breathing turns more labored while her own comes out in quick pants. “You’re driving me crazy. Feel so fucking good. Gonna drench your pussy so good with my come—”
My words get cut off when her inner muscles clamp down on me in a punishing grip. Holy fuck.
“Liam.” Her keening cry of my name is the only warning I get before shudders overtake her. Her pussy spasms around my cock, draining me of my last shred of control.
Flipping her over onto her stomach, I drive my cock inside her before forcing her legs together with my own flanking hers. It tightens everything, and with each deep drive, I don’t have to guess whether I’m hitting her G-spot.
“Liam…ohmygod.” Her moans are nearly muffled by the pillow, but her pussy clutches at me with each deep drive of my hips.
Bracing my hands on either side of her, I shove her hair aside to bare her neck and lower my head to nip and kiss her skin. My mouth at her ear, I tug her earlobe between my teeth before soothing it with my tongue.
“Woman…you’re trying to ruin me with this pussy, aren’t you?”
She lets out a little whimper, tightening around me.
“You’re gonna make me punish this pussy for making me come so soon, aren’t you?”
Her voice is breathless. “Please.”
“Please, what? Please punish this pussy? Is that what you’re asking?” I drive deep, using every ounce of my restraint not to come yet. She needs to wet my dick more before she gets that from me.
“Please…Liam…” Her inner muscles quiver, and her hands fist the pillow.
My hips are uncontrollable as I drive in and out of her so fucking deep it has us both panting. “You better not let me come before you drench my cock again.” My words are forced out from between clenched teeth. “Don’t you. Fucking. Dare.”
She heaves out, “So close.”
With my lips at her ear, my voice is raspy with need. “As soon as you give me what I want, I’m gonna paint that pussy with my come.” My thrusts grow wilder. “It’ll drip out of you, and I’ll push it back in where it belongs.” Because you’re mine.
The sentiment strikes me unexpectedly, and my dick thickens inside her.
“Liam…I’m—”
Oh, fuck. Tremors wrack her entire body, and her pussy tightens on me like a vise, sending me over the edge. A few more punches of my hips, driving so damn deep inside, is all it takes before I fill her sweet pussy with everything I have to give.
Goddamn, I didn’t fall short on my promise. I can already feel it trying to seep out from our joined bodies.
My chest heaves, and I struggle with knowing I should move off her, but I don’t want to. Can’t bear the thought of sliding my cock from her. It feels like I belong inside her.
What the fuck? An inner voice taunts, dragging me back to reality.
We don’t belong. We’re the furthest thing from belonging together.
No matter how much more and more I wish we were.
Chapter 44
ALEXANDRA
The dream starts out similarly to last time, with my mother and me running and then me holding her dead body.
Then it morphs into a different scene. My papa had saved me. He’d taken me away from that awful place and given me a new home. A safer one.
He ensured that I learned more than the usual school subjects. I learned to cook, sew, how to hunt, and he trained me in “quick battlefield medic applications,” as he called it.
A bit of paranoia about my safety had continuously plagued him, and he preached to me on a daily basis about situational awareness. He worried for my well-being when the time came that he was no longer around. When I would be truly alone.
This was one of the many reasons it came as a surprise when he sat me down to speak with me about enrolling in the nearby college.
“I see it, Alexandra.” Somber blue eyes peer down at me. “I see it in you, the desire for more from life.” Melancholy softens his gaze. “I can’t protect you from everything out there even though I try. It’s selfish to not allow you to experience life for yourself.”
He always encouraged me to be more—to never doubt my capabilities or dreams. To not allow the world to dictate what I could or couldn’t do or be.
Abruptly, the scene flashes to an older version of me as I stand over a pile of dirt. Hands resting wearily on a shovel handle, I stare down at the newly dug grave where my father’s body rests.
“I love you, Papa. Forever and always.”
I jolt awake to tears spilling from my eyes. Grief burns a fiery path through me, lancing deep, and even though I can’t recall much more about him, I do know that I miss him.
That I love him still, so very much.
My chest aches because I believe if he were still on this earth, he would have answers for me—some sort of solution to my dilemma.
As I lie here in the darkness, I’m overcome by the sensation of Papa taking my hand in his. I imagine he might say, “Alexandra, you are not defined by your memories. You define yourself by your actions. By your integrity. By your heart.”
Another tear spills free, and the yearning to see him once more, to have him ground me in his sage words, has my heart aching.
Internally scolding myself to get it together, I swipe at my face and wipe my fingers on the cotton T-shirt Liam offered to let me wear last night. I’m grateful for the punishing rain, its nearly deafening sound as it pelts the house serving to drown out my uneven breaths.
“You okay?” His voice is foggy with sleep.
“Mm-hmm.” I gently flex my fingers and will away my tears and riotous emotions. “I’m going to get a drink of water.”
“Okay.” He falls silent as if he’s already sunk back into a deep slumber.
I exhale a silent breath, about to sit up and head to the kitchen, but I don’t make it far.
In the next instant, Liam’s heavy body covers mine. His hand clamps tightly over my mouth, and he rolls us off the bed. His body accepts the brunt of our weight when we land on the floor yet makes no sound on the unforgiving surface. The move is so fast it makes my head spin while my heart beats wildly in my chest.
Clad in only a pair of boxer briefs, he rolls so he’s lying atop me, his hand still covering my mouth. I stare up at him in terror while his eyes dart around, and it’s at this moment that I witness a different man transpire before me.
When he finally meets my panicked gaze, his lips flatten into a punishing line before he dips his head to murmur in my ear.
“Someone’s here. Don’t. Make. A. Sound.”
He eases away, his eyes gauging my reaction. Whatever he sees must satisfy him because he removes his hand from my mouth and reaches both arms beneath the bed, withdrawing something.
Eyes now adjusted to the darkness, I widen them at what he now holds. He flicks the levers on the side of each gun before handing me one.
“If you have to use this, don’t hesitate. Shoot to kill.”
I accept the gun while my lips part to tell him I don’t know anything about guns. Before I can do so, he drapes his body over me, protecting me just as the muted sound of gunfire breaks out.
Bullets shatter the front kitchen windows, then continue around the opposite side of the house that’s more easily traversed since the jungle is cut back and further away.
Heavy footsteps land on the back deck, echoing and creaking loudly even amidst the rain, and I realize I detect not one but two men.
While they pause to reload, I wonder if they’re baffled as to why no one is returning fire.
Liam’s eyes meet mine. “Stay safe in here. I’ll tak
e care of this.”
I stare at him incredulously. “You can’t—”
He stamps a hard, hot kiss to my lips, and his eyes turn pensive. “Stay safe for me.”
He lifts up, but a sense of urgency has me reaching out to cup the back of his head and steer him back to me. Pressing my lips to his in a perfunctory kiss, I speak softly against his mouth. “Stay safe for me.”
I ease away, my eyes locked with his. My throat swells with emotion, but I force levity into my hushed words. “I’m fond of having you around.”
I evidently fail at hiding my emotions because his expression softens in a way I’ve not witnessed before. “Same.”
Then he soundlessly rolls off me and disappears through the doorway.
I’m not sure what urges me on, but I don’t heed his words and stay in the bedroom. I can’t bear the idea of cowering in here while he takes on whoever is out there spraying bullets at the house.
Edging toward the doorway and veiled by the dark, unlit hallway, I silently pad to the end. I peer into the living room area that runs parallel to the outside deck, spotting the large shadows casting over the room.
The full moon illuminates the men’s profiles, their outlines indicating they’re holding a gun in each hand, and I lower to a crouch.
“Oh, Dr. King? I’ve been looking for you. Specifically for your little visitor,” one of the men calls out in a singsong voice. His accent is prominent in each annunciated syllable as he speaks loud enough to be heard over the rain. “I know you’re in there.”
As soon as I register the man’s voice, another piece of the puzzle falls into place. It’s the Russian from the other day.
From where I hover out of their line of sight, every fiber in my body freezes in place. Because it’s my fault. Whatever I did—whatever kind of person I was before evidently brought this Russian psychopath here who appears intent to kill us both.
The man’s words replay in my mind. “Ты меня совсем не знаешь, да?” You have no idea who I am, do you?
I pinch my eyes closed, wishing I could remember something critical—anything that would help me understand why someone’s trying to kill us. Of course, I’m not granted any miraculous memory jolt.
“You’ve been granting your company much too long of a stay.” Shards of glass that spilled onto the deck crunch beneath the first man’s boots, serving to accentuate his condescending tone. “A smart man like you should know better.”
Another spray of bullets sends more glass shattering in its own chaotic and violent symphony.
Opening my eyes, I straighten my shoulders as determination builds within me. Like hell will I allow Liam to get caught in the crossfire. I can’t bear the idea of him dying because of whatever mess I brought to his door.
“You are strong and brave, Little One. Never doubt yourself,” Papa’s voice echoes in my head.
I spot Liam across the room, weapon poised, but I have a clear shot of the bastard while the silent one hangs back, spraying bullets throughout the area where Liam’s hovering.
Before I can fire on the men, the telltale sound of one of them racking the slide back on a different weapon has the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end.
Holy shit. That’s not an average weapon. Oh, no. That’s a damn submachine gun.
Bullets start flying, and a chaotic spray of debris casts over the living room. The doorframe leading to the deck splinters violently before giving way altogether while the pungent scent of gunpowder clings to the air.
I wait, carefully gauging his trail of bullets. When they veer to the opposite side, I straighten and fire my first few shots at the chatty Russian.
My initial bullet strikes his left cheek. His head jerks from the impact while the second bullet grazes his neck. My next few land in his chest, but the vicious bastard makes it clear he won’t go down without a fight.
With each rapid firing of my gun, I veer a bit closer, hoping my aim will be better and more lethal with proximity.
Panic courses within me when the asshole swings around and aims at me. On unsteady legs, I back away just as Liam charges past me, firing on him. He nails the bastard in the jaw, but then his gun appears to jam.
Liam tosses aside his weapon and launches himself at the man. I skitter back farther once I’m out of bullets. Frantically, I search for anything I could use as a weapon. Just when my eyes land on a large enough piece of glass, sharply pointed at one end, a strong, muscled arm cinches around my neck.
My gasp is soundless as the bastard draws his arm tighter around my throat. Dropping my gun, I claw at the band of muscle around my neck.
Spots paint my vision, and my lungs burn with regret. What flashes through my mind is how I never got to tell Liam how I feel…and how sorry I am for this.
He’ll be my biggest regret.
The arm at my throat suddenly goes slack, and my rubbery legs fail to hold me upright. I collapse to the floor, gasping for oxygen, desperate to draw as much into my lungs as possible. A wet pool of rapidly spreading blood heading toward me draws my attention before familiar hands reach for me.
“Alex.” Liam’s hands steer me to face him, his eyes urgently searching my face. “Are you okay?”
I can only manage a tiny nod, still dragging in lungfuls of air. His gaze travels over the rest of me before stopping at my throat, and his features darken in a way I’ve not witnessed. I can practically feel the fury radiating from him.
“Motherfucker,” he mutters before he traces his thumb lightly over my throat. “Wish I could kill him all over again.”
Startled, I glance around to discover both men lying, unmoving, in pools of blood intermixed with brain matter.
Blood from the asshole who’d tried to choke me is only a few inches away from where I’m sprawled on the floor. A breeze blows in the rain that continues falling heavily, quickly soaking every exposed surface.
Liam sits low on his haunches as his hands gently steer my focus back to him. They tremble as they frame my face, but it may very well be me who’s the trembling mess.
“Alex.” He pinches his eyes closed, uttering a muted, “Fuck.” Exhaling a harsh breath, he draws his brows together fiercely. “You scared the shit out of me.” The way he delivers that admission gives me the impression that he resents feeling that way.
I huff out a shaky breath, irritation plaguing my voice while nerves have it quivering. “Yeah, well, you try almost getting choked to death.”
His jaw flexes, eyes flashing with something dangerous as he bites out a command. “Goddammit, woman. Don’t you ever do that to me again.”
Adrenaline sends a surge of hostility to the forefront. My voice rises with indignation. “Like I intended for this to happen?! Are you—”
Palm darting out, he takes firm hold of my nape and stamps his mouth to mine. He effectively cuts off my rant, but that’s not what has me freezing in place. It’s this kiss.
It tastes like desperation and fear.
When his tongue dives inside to find mine, the kiss morphs, turning multifaceted. Barely banked passion is present, but it’s accompanied by another trace of emotion.
He pulls away before I can attempt to decipher it, resting his forehead to mine. His breaths come out in harsh pants.
“Jesus, Alex.” His tortured tone has my heart rioting within my chest. “When I saw him… Christ, I’ve never been so fucking scared before in my life.”
I reach up and trace the pad of my thumb over lips that may not have spoken three little words I secretly yearn for but have admitted that I matter to him all the same.
His eyes fall closed as if to memorize my touch. Chest rising and falling in deep breaths, his amber gaze locks with mine. Something in the depths sends a ribbon of tension twisting around my stomach.
“Alex, I—”
The sudden ringing of a cell phone has us going still. We glance over in the direction the sound appears to be coming from—on the nearest body.
Liam ris
es, helping me up before he gingerly steps over the glass-ridden floor to retrieve the phone from the man’s pocket. From where I stand, the illuminated screen is visible.
UNKNOWN ID.
I’m pretty sure I know why they’re calling. They want to see if their attempt was successful.
What I don’t know is who or why. Who on earth would want to kill me? And Liam is a doctor who’s beloved by everyone here. Why would they try to kill him? Just for caring for my injuries?
Liam flips the phone open and puts it on speakerphone.
“Подтверждаю.” A male voice gives the terse command in Russian. Confirm.
My gaze clashes with Liam’s, and while he doesn’t appear perplexed, I certainly am. About all of this. Why are people after me? What did I do?
Liam responds in an impressively curt tone. It must be his medical training kicking in, allowing him to keep his cool under pressure. “Ты провалился. А теперь самое интересное.” You failed. Now comes the fun part.
Ending the call, he picks up a gun cast aside on the floor. Then he pins the phone against the now splintered doorframe and slams the butt of his gun against it a few times. Once the device comes apart and he withdraws a tiny card, he lets the other pieces fall to the floor.
Each violent thwack, thwack, thwack he now delivers to the SIM card sends a visible tremor through my body.
Those tremors grow stronger until my arms and legs quiver as though I’ve just pushed my body to the brink of its endurance.
The words spill out of me without a second thought. “I’m sorry, Liam.”
His head whips around, brows knitted together. Eyes sweeping over my features, he inspects me as if searching for evidence of something I’m not privy to.
“What are you sorry for?” His question holds a strong dose of wariness.
I gesture to the now destroyed rear of the house with a shaky hand. “For all this.” Waving a hand toward him, I add, “For you nearly—” My voice cracks, and I tear my eyes from his.
