“Fuck me,” she pleaded, hooking her arms around his neck.
He sighed, pressing his forehead to hers, wiggling his hips to find the right spot. The heat of his cock found the folds of her pussy, inching into place, causing her to spread her legs even further.
He caught her lips in a rough kiss as he pressed himself inside her. She gasped—he was so big, it almost hurt—but she relaxed against him, allowing him to sink deeper. He let a ragged moan as he sunk all the way, buried to the hilt, and for a moment neither moved. He felt too good buried inside her, his heat overcoming her, the desire consuming her.
She flexed against him and hooked her ankles behind his back. He moved against her, slowly at first, but soon a rhythm emerged, somewhere between tender and ravenous. She moved against him as he pumped into her, the friction building at a frightening pace. Need swirled inside her and soon she needed it faster, harder. As much as he could give her.
“Fuck me,” she pleaded, bucking against him as he pumped. “Fuck me like you own me.”
The muscles of his back rippled under the moonlight and he scooped her into his arms, sat up to rest on his haunches, putting her on top of him. His eyes shone with desire as he took her in, his strong arms wrapped around her waist.
“Ride me, baby.” Sweat glistened at his temples and he caught a nipple in his mouth as she arched against him. Acclimating to the new angle took a moment since he found even more depth this way. She started a slow roll on top him, moaning as her clit knocked against the base of his cock, working up to a frenzied bucking as need overcome her.
“Oh, Boris!” She tossed her head back, looking up into the abyss of the night sky, the beauty mingling with the heat of his body and the feel of his stiff cock inside her. It was too much. She moaned low, rolling in wide circles, feeling the prickles of electricity form a bright spark in her core. She wouldn’t last much longer.
“Don’t stop,” she gasped, pressing her breasts against his face. He caught a nipple between his teeth and then groaned. “I’m close.”
“Me too,” he said, voice jagged. “You feel too damn good, baby.” He squeezed big handfuls of the flesh at her hips and then reached around to grab at her ass. That did it—the waves of pleasure unfurled, slow and tight at first but then longer and harder as the climax built and spilled over. Her breath caught in her throat and she rode him harder, pushing herself over the edge, her breast jiggling in his face as she came.
“Oh… Oh god. Oh god YES!” she gasped, and gripped onto the hard ridge of his shoulders as the pleasure spasmed through her, pussy convulsing around his cock as she came. Her breath came out stilted and strange, a whimper turning into a moan and then a shriek. He held her tight, biceps bulging as he squeezed her closer, a gruff cry escaping him as his cum filled her.
She drew ragged breaths as she came down, the peaks of pleasure receding into a dull thrum of contentment. Resting her head on his shoulder, she dragged her fingertips over his bicep.
“Wow,” he said at last, arms still encircling her like she might drift away if he let go.
She laughed a little. “Yeah. I second that.”
He shifted beneath her but his cock didn’t slip out. The feel of him there, even after their climax had come and gone, was an extra dash of intimacy. She nuzzled against him, lulled into a deeper state of calm from the scent of him, the mixture of earth and sweat and something indescribably Boris.
Boris shifted again and guided her back toward the ground, biceps bulging as he supported himself on either side of her before rolling off to the side. Before she could suggest that they cuddle he pulled her into his arms. A smile overtook her face.
They spooned under the moonlight, warm breeze caressing her bare skin, until she drifted off into a peaceful sleep beneath the stars.
Chapter Ten
Boris bolted awake at dawn, when the last remnants of purple-blue hues were fading from the sky. He lay flat on his back, arm hooked around Claudia’s neck, who curled up to him like a purring kitten. The leaves of the chestnut tree gently moved in the slight breeze.
He sniffed, remembering what had awoken him. That smell. He shifted to sit up a bit, blinking against the dawning light. The countryside sprawled before him; perched atop this little hill, he had a better vantage point of the surrounding lands. The next village was a small cluster on the horizon; the city they would walk back to today, even tinier.
Boris turned to look behind them, back where they came. The sight stole his breath.
A thick column of black smoke billowed from the dip between hills. He tensed, hesitant to confirm what, exactly, had burned to the ground. A knot formed in his belly.
But there was no mistaking it. Filitov’s house was a pile of rubble. And that had been the stench that woke him up, though the smell had fought to get there on the opposing breeze.
“Claudia, get up.” He shook her awake and reached for their clothes. “We have to go.”
His people had to be near. His people had to be the ones responsible for this.
She mumbled and rolled onto her back, hip bones jutting out like knives. “What? It’s so early.”
“Come on.” He shoved her pants and t-shirt at her, then tugged his own briefs on, followed by his jeans. “Hurry it up.”
She pushed herself up on an arm, groaning, no doubt, from the various aches and pains that accompanied a night on the open earth. When she looked past his shoulder, she gasped.
“What is that?” Her voice came out hoarse. And if he weren’t so damned anxious, he’d tease her about how cute it was.
“Trouble.” He hopped to standing and tugged his t-shirt on, jerking his head at her to get her to hurry up. “Come on. We have to go.”
She seemed to snap to attention and pulled her clothes on without another word. When she was dressed, he pulled her to her feet, resting his hands on her shoulders.
“Do you trust me?”
She let a terse sigh. “Oh God, this again.” She looked away for a moment. “Yes. Of course.”
“I don’t know who burned his house down, but we can’t stick around. We could be in danger, so we have to move fast. I’m going to get us a ride the second I can.”
She nodded, eyes wide and innocent as he took her hand, tugging her along behind him. He crested the rest of the hill and went down the far side, dodging bushes and thickets of wildflowers to get back to the main path. They’d seen a few trucks amble by the day before, kicking up a trail of dust that could be seen for miles, so all they could do now was walk and hope that another one came their way. Even though part of him was desperate to get back there and find out if Filitov had made it out alive. If there were any clues about who might have done this.
But of course there wouldn’t be clues. Whoever had discovered Filitov’s hideout wouldn’t be dumb enough to leave a trace, not if they were smart enough to find him in the first place.
Boris’s mind throbbed with questions and frets as they jogged toward the main path. It had to be his organization. Unless Filitov had gotten into other dealings in the interim. In which case, who knew? It could be anybody. Maybe Boris had unwittingly led them into an even greater trap. Maybe that had been exactly what Filitov warned him about last night—bringing Claudia into the fray, into greater trouble than she already was.
Fuck. Their feet slapped against the dirt path and he kicked up the pace from a jog to a brisk run. They wouldn’t last long like this, but they needed distance, at least. To get away from the scene of the crime.
Because no matter who had burnt the house down, one thing was certain: he couldn’t rid himself of Claudia now. They were both in too deep.
“We were supposed to be in there.” Claudia sounded choked and tiny. He glanced back at her; she dragged her palm across her cheek, wiping away tears. “Who would burn his house down?”
“Hell if I know,” he said, slowing down, wrapping an arm around her. “And I wish we had the time to find out. But we don’t.”
“There’s
no way he could have made it out, right?”
He sighed, eyes on the path as it turned from brown to horizon. “I don’t know. I hope so.”
“We would have seen him. We would have run into him by now, don’t you think? Maybe we escaped the other way.”
He squeezed her shoulder. “You shouldn’t think about these things. Don’t torment yourself.”
She stiffened, slowing further. “How can you not think about these things?”
He stopped, spinning on his heels to face her. “I do think about these things, more than you know. I do enough thinking about it for the both of us. So just leave it to me, okay?”
She watched him with watery eyes for a moment before nodding. “You must handle emotions differently.”
He hefted with a laugh. That was the understatement of the century. “In my world, you have to.”
“And what world is that?”
He let her question hang in the air, like an unwelcome guest at a party, mostly ignored, totally awkward. Thankfully, a cloud of dust ahead snagged his attention. A truck. It had to be.
“This one is ours,” he said, pushing himself into a run. The grill crested a small hill and a beast of a work truck lumbered toward them.
It only took a few minutes before they caught up to the dusty thing. Boris waved his arms in the air as they approached. The driver acknowledged them and slowed, rumbling to a stop. Boris hurried to the driver’s side, peering up once the man rolled down his window.
“Vam je potrebna pomoć?” The man said. He peered down at Boris suspiciously, then glanced through the front window as Claudia finally caught up. She stood panting behind him, hands on her knees.
Boris’s Croatian was rudimentary at best; but in the language of subduing, he was fluent. “Pomozite nam molim,” Boris said. He could do a better Croatian accent, but he thought looking a bit like a lost tourist would help them, and match up with his crappy grasp of the language well. He pointed toward the direction where they’d come from, then at the two of them, then inside the man’s truck. “mozhemo ichi?” Can we go, or something like it.
The man heaved a sigh, thick dark hair matted from the grime of farm work. At least that was Boris’s best guess. “Davay, otishao.”
They could get in. Boris smiled and thanked him, pulling Claudia around to the passenger’s side with him. He climbed in first, then helped her in. Once she pulled the heavy door shut, the man shifted the truck into gear.
“Aren’t we going the wrong way?” Claudia asked under her breath. Boris sent her a dirty look then turned his attention out the front window, using his peripheral vision to track the movements of the man beside him. He’d be an easy target. Maybe too easy.
Boris turned to look at the man. Just as the driver glanced his way, Boris brought his elbow back into his throat, as hard as he could. The driver let a guttural yelp and clutched at his throat. Boris put him in a headlock and tightened his arm, while using his free hand to open the driver’s side door.
Keeping the man in a tight headlock, he fished for the seatbelt release; once it clicked open, he pushed the man out the door, quickly assuming his post in front of the wheel. His body fell out of the truck and banged against the side—a dull thud. In a fluid motion, he maneuvered the listing truck back onto the path and swung the door shut. Slamming his foot on the brake pedal, he executed a quick U-turn in a flat patch of grass nearby.
The driver lay writhing on the ground as the truck lumbered past him. Boris winced. He didn’t know what was more batshit crazy—that he’d just lifted this guy’s truck with barely a struggle, or the fact that this barely even registered on the scale of bad things he’d done in his life. Once the driver grew smaller in the rear-view mirror, he glanced at Claudia.
She watched him with an open mouth.
“It was necessary,” he said, like it might prevent any shocked questions. Claudia turned to look out the grimy back window, mouth still open.
“You just stole his truck,” she said finally. “I thought we were going to ride with him. Like regular people helping out some strangers.” She shook her head, scooting to the far side of the truck. “Fuck, Boris.”
He ground his jaw as he drove, pushing the truck faster. “You watched me kill a man with my bare hands and this shocks you?”
“That was to save me,” she spat. “This was…”
“To save you again,” he said, glancing over at her. The big wheel vibrated in his hands as he drove. “You don’t get it. But we’re in danger.”
She blinked at him, mouth a thin line, not saying anything.
“We just need to get the hell out of here,” he said. “We’ll leave the truck somewhere in the city when we get there. I doubt we’ll have a tail for a while.” Once they got oriented in the city, he’d send her home. He had to. Because she couldn’t stick around for the rest of his mission. Getting her mixed up in the assignment had been a bad idea, though he couldn’t quite ignore the distant protests pulsing through his body. Claudia, I’ll miss you.
“Another tail.” She hefted with a laugh. “You talk like a spy. Is that the world you come from?”
Boris didn’t say anything, just let the grumble of the shifting gears act as his answer.
***
A half hour later, Boris slowed the truck to a stop at the end of a long line of vehicles. Shouts and honks rang out. Claudia rolled down the window so she could crane her head to see better. Dust stung her eyes in the early morning air.
“What’s going on?” She pulled her head back in when a group of kids rushed past the truck, shouting in Croatian.
“We’re totally stopped.” Boris’s jaw flexed as he gripped the steering wheel. Their drive through the countryside had been almost romantic—maybe as romantic as she’d get out of someone like him—if one could overlook the grand theft auto and the arson from earlier that morning. And despite the craziness of the last week of her life, there was something steady and logical about Boris. Even though he went against all odds.
“What should we do?” She sighed, lifting her arm from the arm rest once it started to stick again. It wasn’t even 9 a.m. and the heat was intense.
“We should leave the truck.” He stared out the windshield for a moment longer then turned to her, almost like seeking her approval. She nodded in agreement. Somehow, he knew best. Even though he infuriated her with the sidestepping of her questions, with the insistent cloak of mystery he wore, Boris should be trusted.
“It looks like there’s a parade,” Claudia said, pushing open her door after Boris opened his. The fragrant scent of bread wafted from somewhere nearby. If she and Boris weren’t on the run from mysterious arsonists, this might be a place she’d like to sit and stay awhile. Wander aimlessly through the chestnut groves. Get lost in sunny reveries.
But not today.
“Stay close to me,” he said, searing her with a look. “We can’t get separated.”
She hopped down to the ground, the shock rattling up to her knees. “Oh no? You don’t wanna get rid of me after all?” She shoved the door shut with a grunt. “Just one night on a Croatian hillside was all it took to change your mind?”
Boris narrowed his eyes at her, but there was the hint of a smile there. He grabbed her hand before she could strut off cockily like she wanted.
“Men are dogs,” she went on. “You’re all the same.”
He pulled her close to him, pressing his mouth against her ear. “Leaving you was a mistake.” His voice came out low, almost a growl.
Shivers coursed through her and a grin broke out on her face. “Not the first time I’ve heard that.”
Boris laughed, loosening his grip, tugging her along behind him. “Sounds like you’ve got some of your own secrets.”
“Probably not as many as you.”
He hefted with a laugh. “I’ll let that one slide.”
Claudia giggled, letting his comment sink deep into her. She could get used to stuff like this. Wait, Claudia. What are you talking about?
She blinked hard, like it might clear her head somehow. Because Boris was clouding her judgement. This past week had fostered the most insane blend of intimacy and confusion. Spending close quarters with someone like they had meant she felt like she knew him inside and out. Which she did, in a way.
But also in a huge way she didn’t. And she’d do well to remember that, too.
If only there were anything normal about the way they’d met, or the direction they were headed. Boris led the way through the people, the crowd growing denser the further they got. Drums pum-pum-pummed in the distance, with squawking horns signaling a marching band somewhere in the area.
A vendor flagged down Claudia, gesturing toward a basket full of fresh-baked breads. Claudia stalled, peering into the basket, fascinated by the dark grains and the assortment of nuts baked into various loaves. This was the real Croatian countryside—she should be able to at least take a bite.
Vicious: Steel Jockeys MC Page 35
