Finally, he spoke, his voice deep and silky with promise. “If you will not help me understand how this man holds you, then I will just have to try harder to take what belongs to him.”
“Boris, no!” Laney gasped.
Having watched him covertly over the past several months, Laney knew Boris always did exactly what he said he was going to do, which meant he was about to try to seduce her away from her imaginary fiancé. She went immediately into the offensive, sending one small fist flying into his neck while trying to roll away from him. Boris ducked his head, taking a glancing blow from her fist and dropped her phone.
He grunted as her knuckles grazed his ear. Before Laney could roll out from under him, Boris wrapped a huge hand around her slender neck and slammed her back against the table, causing it to shudder under the impact. Laney gasped for air as his fingers tightened in warning, but instead of giving up the fight, she brought her knees up to kick him in the chest. He used his elbow to knock her knees apart, tearing the tight skirt at one of the seams and forcing his massive chest between her legs, his head between her breasts. He grinned at her triumphantly while she cursed the damn dress and her inability to get a proper kick in.
Laney was spread out underneath him, almost completely helpless. Almost. She managed to wedge a hand between her thighs where her skirt had ridden up. She wrapped her fingers around her gun, yanked it free of its hidden holster and pressed it against his forehead.
She had hoped he might look a little worried, but, of course, Boris Grekov would do no such thing. He looked death in the face, blinked, and then stared at her with blazing lust as though she just made his entire fucking day.
“You can pull trigger woman, I will still fuck you with my tongue,” he growled, his accent so thick she barely understood him.
He reached down and dragged the skirt of her dress right up to her waist, baring her tiny black lace panties and leather holster to his hungry gaze. Her sapphire eyes grew round and desperate. She stared at him with both horror and hope, knowing he was going to do exactly was he said. The gun shook in her hand, but she kept it levelled on his head, her expression deadly serious. She tried to convey exactly how much of a mistake it would be for him to keep messing with her.
“Don’t. You. Dare.” The words were pulled out of her heaving chest with effort.
His huge hand inched up her thigh, nearly circling the entire thing. His thick fingers made short work of the delicate, feminine leather holster. He tossed it over his shoulder and shoved the satin of her dress further up her thighs, under her ass, baring her completely to his ravenous gaze.
“So fucking beautiful,” he growled. “More than even my imagination could come up with. You’ve owned my thoughts for so long, it is difficult to express…”
His words trailed off as though he couldn’t finish. He reached under her and gently pulled the elasticized panties off her hips with such delicacy that Laney was having trouble believing she was actually awake and experiencing this. He treated her with a reverence Laney had never in her life known or even imagined. It was like Boris had waited for so long to actually touch Laney intimately that, despite his anger at her forthcoming marriage, he couldn’t help but treat her like a goddess. It made her chest ache in an unfamiliar way.
She closed her eyes against the sight of him between her legs, worshipping her. Then realized she shouldn’t have done that, because she was unprepared for the feel of his hot breath brushing against her sensitive inner thigh. She cried out, her eyes flying open and the gun jumping in her hand.
Boris reached out swiftly, grabbed hold of her wrist and slammed it against the table. Laney tightened her hold on the weapon, refusing to give up her only protection while trapped in the hold of such a beast. He didn’t seem to mind, but retained his hold on her wrist. He wrapped his other hand around her thigh and pushed her leg up against the table, opening her pussy up to him.
“Krasivaya.” Beautiful.
It struck Laney that they each knew the other’s birth languages, though they were together on the other side of the world. The poetry in that almost took her breath away, until she remembered that she still had a job to do, which would ultimately end in his death.
Laney squirmed in his hold, trying to roll away from him once more, but knowing his superior strength would win. She wanted to fight him, but Boris was too much for her. He was too much physically and too much emotionally. And a part of her wanted to know what it would be like, just this once, to let go and experience pleasure with a man. With this man.
It wasn't like he was giving her a choice.
“Boris!” she cried out in fear, feeling the brush of his beard against her bare labia. The intensity of the tiny touch sent shockwaves throughout her entire body.
She reached out helplessly with the hand that wasn’t holding the gun. He took his hand off her thigh and grasped her hand in his. He used his fingers to spread her much smaller ones and slid his fingers in between, holding her hand tightly entwined in his, then he stretched her arm out and pinned it against the table. He trapped her but also held her like a lover.
“I’ve got you, kotenok.”
“Don’t call me… oh god!” Laney yelled arching her back against the table.
He’d dropped his face into her pussy and licked her with one long, loving stroke. Laney moaned as unfamiliar sensations swamped her. His sharp eyes watched her surprised and guileless response. He used the flat of his tongue to taste her, doing exactly as he’d threatened to do and turning Laney into a twisting, moaning thing beneath him. Heat snaked up through her belly, piercing all parts of her body and rendering her incapable of doing anything other than begging him to stop, but also to continue.
She did not recognize herself. Laney always had full control of herself. As both a security officer and an assassin she had to understand each situation fully and control all outcomes. This was never supposed to be her plan. Yet… yet it felt so unbearably incredible. The pleasure, the joy of him.
Boris murmured Russian phrases against her as he drove her wild with his tongue and mouth, sweeping wet kisses up her thighs before returning to her sweet pussy. She could barely comprehend what he was saying between the blood sizzling throughout her veins and the thickness of his accent, but she knew he called her beautiful… and kitten… and more than he’d ever hoped for.
He took his time, using his tongue to separate each fold and lovingly explore each facet of her vagina before returning time and again to her tiny clit, giving it flicks that would cause her to jump and moan in his tight hold. He buried his face in her pussy and breathed her in, embarrassing her. But there was nothing she could do. She was pinned down and he was far too big. She moaned in arousal and distress, arching as he soothed her embarrassment by massaging her clitoris again. Circling and suckling, pulling it into his mouth and using just the barest hint of teeth until she was mindlessly reaching toward a peak she’d never before known. He backed off before she could reach the illusive paradise, like precious candy the Russian monster held just out of reach. She screamed at him.
“Not until I say, moy kotenok,” he growled, bringing his head up with a grin.
“I’m not your fucking kitten!” she snarled breathlessly, trying to arch her pussy back toward his mouth.
“Ah, there you are wrong,” he sighed, swiping his tongue leisurely from her ass to her clit, making her jerk hard in his tight hold and cry out in frustration. “At the moment, you are very much what I say you are… kotenok.”
He went back to torturing her, driving her insane with his slow licks, pushing her toward an orgasm and then withholding the precious treat while she abused him and his entire bloodline in at least three languages. He chuckled, his broad shoulders shaking her spread thighs, and ignored her tirade.
It occurred to Laney that he knew exactly what he was doing to her. The handsome in a fuck-with-me-and-mine-and-die sort of way man would have tons of experience with women; women that were far more willing than Laney to t
hrow themselves at him. Though he was scarred and deadly looking, he would appeal to the sort of women looking for an adrenalin fuelled fuck. He clearly knew his way around a pussy.
Suddenly Laney wanted to practice her considerable assassin skills on those imaginary women. It had been a while since she’d been able to add a mark to her body count. Why not add a few dozen women to the tally? While she was at it she would just finish Boris off too. Maybe a little earlier than the Master wanted, but whatever, the end goal was the same. Then she wouldn’t have to deal with these damn emotions!
Yes, this seemed like a good plan.
Laney tested the hand that was holding her gun, but Boris’ hold was immovable. It was like being shackled by warm iron. How he managed to check his strength enough not to accidentally break her wrist she did not know. Damn, shooting him in the head was not going to be an option just yet and he was driving her closer and closer to some sort of insanely wonderful reckoning with his tongue!
He had increased the pressure and was roughly gliding his tongue over her clitoris until the stimulation had become almost unbearable. Laney cried out and arched her back, trying to escape the pleasurable, painful sensations spiking throughout her body. He released the hand not holding a weapon and reached between her legs. She reached down to pull his head away but he stopped licking.
“I will not give you what you need if you push me away, my Laney,” he growled, his accent so thick now he may as well be speaking in Russian.
Laney gave a small scream of frustration, fisted her hand and dropped it to the table. She wanted… it… so bad! Just once she wanted to know what this feeling was. She’d never masturbated. Never orgasmed. She needed this!
“Please!” she cried out helplessly.
“I will always take care of you, little love.” He dropped a wet kiss onto her belly, leaving a mark on her satin dress with her own fluids.
He blew air across her slippery cunt making her jump against the table and, gathering her wetness onto his big finger, he slowly started to penetrate her. Laney was so lost in pleasure she barely noticed until the burning sensation started.
“Ahhh,” she gasped, her head coming sharply off the table.
“What the fuck?” Boris growled at her, his gaze clashing with hers and his thick brows lowering. “A fucking virgin?”
“Don… don’t stop!” She begged him, arching her hips up and forcing him to penetrate her further. Though she was incredibly tight, her passage was slick from his expert tongue.
“Answer my question and I will give you what you crave,” he demanded.
“Ohhh… I’m not a virgin!” she shouted at him.
“Just very tight then.” He nodded. “How old are you, Laney?”
“Oh god, I hate you,” she moaned covering her eyes with her free hand, smearing her professionally applied makeup. “Twenty-three. Now please, keep going!”
He froze. “Fuck that’s young. Too fucking young,” he groaned kissing a path down her leg, helplessly drawn back to her sweet pussy.
“You should’ve thought of that earlier!” she yelled.
“Fuck it, what is thirteen years when I am in love?” His lips latched onto her aching clit once more and began sucking as though he would die if he didn’t taste her one last time. He thrust his finger past the resistance of her vaginal channel, reaching into the heart of her, filling her completely. She screamed, arching her back off the table and exploding into a thousand beautiful suns while he licked her through her very first orgasm.
As she collapsed back onto the table, he took a calculated risk, releasing her gun hand and reaching for her waist. He dragged her up the table in one strong arm and took her mouth in a rough, possessive kiss. He didn’t give her a chance to deny him as she had been doing for so many months. He swept his tongue into her mouth, forcing her to taste her own come on his lips and tongue, ruining her innocence in one sweep. Laney moaned into his mouth and wrapped her arms around his neck, locking her wrists together, forgetting about the gun she still held. She took his aggressive kiss and shyly returned the pressure of his tongue with her own. He growled his approval, his hand tightening on her waist.
His finger continued to press inside her spasming pussy, pressing against the wet silken wall, showing her how good she could feel. He swept his thumb back and forth across her clitoris until she was rocking her hips in time with his swipes and reaching again for the mindless oblivion only he could show her. Suddenly she was flying again, swept up into another incredible orgasm while held tightly in the confines of the arms of her lover.
As she slowly drifted down from the incredible high of two amazing and previously unexperienced orgasms, reality began to set in. Boris felt the shift in her from lazy contentment to horror. He sighed heavily and removed his hand from her sweet pussy. Before she could recover too quickly he reached behind his neck, took hold of her wrists in a gentle but firm hold, pulled them down and twisted until she dropped her gun on the table.
“Hey!” she snapped.
He chuckled, picked up the weapon and removed the clip. Then he checked to make sure there was no bullet in the chamber. He tucked the clip in his pocket and handed her back the gun. She took it with a shaking hand and frowned at him while attempting to pull her dress down with the other hand. He stared down at her with a frighteningly possessive intensity that made her wish she’d been able to find a way to hide a blade under the dress too.
“Mine now,” he rumbled down at her, bringing his arm up and swiping it across his mouth, wiping her juices off on the sleeve of his suit jacket.
“No!” she snapped, glaring at him.
He reached for her, glaring back, daring her to defy him. Laney brought her legs up and scrambled across the table. Boris lunged for her, dropping his full weight onto the table. There was a loud crack.
“Fuck,” Boris mumbled right before the table collapsed beneath them, crashing to the carpeted floor with a splintering thump. The legs flew out from underneath while the tabletop remained in one piece, its occupants sprawled awkwardly across it.
They lay in shocked silence for a moment before Boris rolled onto his side and quickly scanned Laney who was flat on her back with her ams at her sides, gun still clutched tightly in one hand, dress around her hips, staring at the ceiling.
“Are you hurt?” he asked, concern lacing his deep voice.
She rolled her head to look at him, her blue mascara-rimmed eyes cloudy. He reached out and touched her head, fearing she may have bumped it too hard. Worry turned to surprise when her lips curved into a smile and she began laughing. Small giggles at first that quickly turned into full belly laughs as she realized what had happened. She brought her legs up, curled her arms around her stomach and rolled onto her side facing him, still laughing.
“I can… can’t believe that happened!” she said, between shouts of laughter. “You are such a beast! Look what you’ve done to this poor table. You really are like Godzilla, smashing things!”
After a moment, his fierce visage split into a wide grin and soon he joined her in her mirth. His booming guffaws shook the table beneath them, causing it to roll on the broken table legs, which made them laugh even harder.
After a few minutes, they calmed and looked at each other. The grin slowly faded from Laney’s lips to be replaced by sadness. She saw the love shining in his eyes and shook her head. Reaching out, she touched his lips, running her fingers gently down his beard and then lightly touching his thick, tattooed neck before dropping her hand. He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, taking in her scent of lilies and honey, enjoying the feel of her touch, the first one she had voluntarily given him since they had met.
He opened his eyes, dark possession burning into her, branding her heart in a way that she knew couldn’t be hers. She reached behind her, the gun clunking against the wooden table, and pushed herself off the broken table. Stumbling on the silver high heels, she stood and attempted to smooth the dress as best she could, shaking out the worst of
the wrinkles. Looking down, she realized there was no point. Boris had left a mark on her stomach where he had kissed her and a torn seam all the way up one thigh. Shame and arousal burned in her belly, igniting her once more.
She glanced around and, spotting her panties, reached for them. He was faster. From his crouched position, he swiped them up in his massive tattooed fist. She straightened and moved quickly away from him in case he tried to grab her again.
She watched in fascinated horror as he lifted the delicate black lace to his lips and kissed them. Then he tucked them into his pocket. He pushed himself to his feet, surprisingly graceful for such a large man, and said, “Until next time.”
“Never again!” she hissed.
“It is a promise, kotenok,” he growled silkily, dropping a kiss on her forehead before leaving her alone in the room.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“Brat.”
“Brat!”
Brother.
Boris and Vladimir tossed back their shots of vodka and slammed their glasses down on the desk. Boris reached for the bottle and refilled their glasses without permission, not something he would usually consider. Though Sitnikov thought of Boris as a brother, Boris was always careful to maintain that professional distance between the Boss and his brutally loyal enforcer. Appearances in their circle were everything. The fact that Boris would take even this small liberty was significant.
Vlad picked up the shot glass between his crooked middle finger and thumb and raised an eyebrow at Boris. His massive second in command picked up his own glass and said, “Krov.”
Vladimir nodded and repeated, “Krov.”
Blood.
It was a reminder of the blood oath the men had taken when Boris had sworn featly to Sitnikov and followed him from Russia to America to help build an empire. Vlad had repaid Boris’ loyalty handsomely, but both men knew it would never be enough. Boris was a king in his own right, sporting the same eight-pointed stars on his shoulders, same as Vladimir.
Boris was happy enough to leave his younger brother sitting on the throne, heading the Grekov section of the Russian Bratva. Boris received regular updates from his informants and ran his empire from afar, while enforcing Vlad’s throne as his right hand and brother through blood oath. As he got older though, he became more restless and less satisfied with the situation. Rumblings out of Russia suggested Dimitri Grekov may be hiding things from his older brother.
Bound by Blood (Fire & Vice Book 6) Page 6
