Finally she reached it, screaming out loud until Ash slammed his lips over hers, owning her screams.
“Anya!” he shouted following her over the edge, thrusting so hard into her she was sure he was hitting her cervix.
He collapsed on top of her, his big sweat streaked body crushing hers into the soft bedding. She closed her arms around him and ran her hands up and down his back, exploring the ridges while both of them floated down from the heights of intense pleasure. She felt him relax beneath her fingertips and smiled. She felt certain this big man, right hand to one of the city’s most dangerous men, never lowered his guard.
“Am I crushing you?” he mumbled, turning his head to the side and pressing his lips against her throat.
Anya shook her head. He was actually crushing her, but she wanted him on top of her more. She continued to trace her fingers up and down his back while his breathing grew heavier. With his last vestige of wakefulness he rolled off of her and then pulled her toward his chest, tucking her against him. His hand circled her wrist, as though subconsciously pinning her to him so she couldn’t leave while he slept.
Anya watched him fall asleep, the harsh lines around his mouth and eyes gradually relaxing. She knew he was thirty-one, but he looked older, closer to Vlad’s fourty years. She had a complete dossier on Ash and his background. At the time she had read it, before she had met the man, the facts had registered on a professional level. Now she felt ashamed that she knew facts about his past without learning them directly from him.
Ash had lived a hard life. The drugs in his late teens and early twenties were not the worst of it, but they were the turning point in his life. She pulled her wrist from his loosened grip and very gently turned his arm over. Holding her breath, she very lightly traced her fingers up his arm, feeling the slightly raised scarring at the crook of his arm from old track marks. In the fading light of the setting sun through the windows, she could barely see the serpent tattoo that she knew would render the marks invisible to a casual observer.
When his boss Khalid had discovered him and seen the potential within, Ash had been on a downward spiral that would likely have ended in death. Either by knife in a street fight, or bad heroin injected into his collapsing veins. Her heart ached for him, but she knew he would despise her pity. Ash was as tough as they came.
Grateful to Khalid for a new lease on life, he proved himself to be an effective enforcer and rabid bodyguard. His loyalty had never wavered, earning him the distinction of being the only man to stand by Khalid’s side. Anya also knew something about Ash that few others did. He was more than an employee of Khalid’s, he was also a minority business partner. He just preferred to keep a low profile while Khalid, who had more of a head for business, grew their combined assets.
Anya sighed and very gently moved Ash’s arm, placing it on the sheets between them. Slowly, so as not to wake the sleeping giant, she rolled off the bed. She walked naked into the dark kitchen and made her way to the laundry room without turning on any lights. She squeaked in surprise when a cold, wet nose nudged against her bare butt cheek.
“Bane!” she whispered, stopping to stroke his silky ears. “You pervy boy, keep that nose out of my business.”
Bane whined quietly, as though sensing her effort not to wake up his master, and pushed his head into her hand. When she obliged him with some excellent head scratches, he decided to take their relationship to the next level by throwing himself into a roll and giving her his belly to rub. His massive body hitting her legs unexpectedly sent her flying into the kitchen island. She grabbed it for support and giggled.
“You are a handful, my friend,” she whispered in Russian, and continued on her path to the laundry room.
She gently closed the door behind her and flipped on the light. Rooting through her stuff she found her purse and quickly recovered her cell phone. There were no messages from Claudia, which concerned her. There were, however, three from her brother, as well as two missed calls, at which she rolled her eyes.
Quickly, she texted Claudia: What happened to you? Everything okay? Text me back ASAP.
Then she read her brother’s texts with growing irritation.
You were seen leaving a certain building with Asher Bowles. Your car was left behind. Tell me where you are.
Answer me Anastasia. Where are you?
I am sending Boris to Asher Bowles’ home – he will get answers for me.
“Geez,” she mumbled, texting back. Her brother was taking this protective older brother thing to a while new level.
Yo, stalker bro. Am fine. Do NOT send goon.
His response was instant and unsurprising: Come home now.
Anya sighed in annoyance.
This was not our agreement. I can do whatever I wish with my life. Stop dictating to me. I’m staying here tonight.
And again. Come home now. Too dangerous.
Anya was about to put her phone away and ignore her grouchy older brother, when she glanced at the next message: Boris is there. Either leave with him or he breaks down door, puts bullet in boyfriend and brings you home anyway.
“Fuck my life,” Anya snarled.
She reached out for the T-shirt Ash had been wearing and pulled it over her head. It swam on her, reaching midway down her thighs. She pulled on her boots, snatched up her phone again and stomped back into the kitchen where Bane greeted her excitedly. She patted his head absently as she headed for the front door.
Boris was waiting for her next to one of a fleet of her brother’s tastefully armoured cars. She dialled her brother while making a beeline for Boris, the expression on his scarred up face one of amusement. She would be more than happy to change that. If Vlad planned on ruining her evening, she planned on ruining Boris’ by extension.
Vlad answered his phone. “Anastasia.”
“Vladimir,” she responded in clipped Russian, “Why are you trying to ruin my life?”
“Don’t be melodramatic, solstne. Is Boris there with you?”
“Yes,” she snapped. “I am about to inform him that he may leave. Without me!”
He sighed heavily. “I am trying to protect you, Anastasia. This man, Asher Bowles, is dangerous.”
“Your protection looks an awful lot like kidnapping, when you don’t give me the choice. You know how I feel about being kidnapped.”
There was a pause before her brother said, “That was low.”
“Yes, it was,” she said, feeling a little contrite, but still annoyed. “It was a reminder to you of why we agreed I can make my own decisions. For now, I choose Ash. Maybe he is dangerous, but not even close to you brother. Or some of the men you choose to spend time with. For now, Ash is making me happy, and I choose him. Now send Boris away before I do it myself.”
Vlad chuckled. “Don’t raise your hand against my man, love. It wouldn’t be fair, since he knows touching you would mean death.”
Anya glanced up at the giant Russian enforcer and, taking in his tensed body language, glanced over her shoulder. Oh great, Ash had decided to join the party. He wore only a pair of low-riding jeans, his magnificent torso bared to her hungry gaze. He stood in the doorway of his house looking angry, his eyes narrowed on her.
“Instant death,” she breathed, looking at Ash who was watching her like a hawk. Into the phone she said, “I’m staying here tonight. Call off your watch dog. Please.”
She handed the phone to Boris, who took it, his eyes never leaving Ash’s still form. She wanted to giggle at the image of her little phone with the pink, jewel encrusted skulls on the case in his massive hand. He spoke rapid Russian then listened for about thirty seconds. With a grunt, he handed Anya back her phone.
“I leave now,” he said.
“Drive safely,” she smiled brightly as he retreated.
He grunted again, “Be good girl, Anastasia.”
She laughed and said as he drove away, “Absolutely not!”
Turning, she ran across the yard and hurled herself into Ash’s arms. S
urprised, he caught her and held her tightly. She lifted her arms and wound them around his neck. His T-shirt rode high on the back of her thighs, the edge flirting dangerously along her butt cheeks. Holding her up by the waist with one arm, Ash swung her back into the house and slammed the door shut. She clung to him happily.
“Do you know what it does to me woman, seeing you wearing only my shirt and a pair of boots, speaking the sexiest Russian I’ve ever heard?” he growled down at her. “It makes me want to fuck you, right there on my front lawn, in front of the world.”
“And what will you do with me now?” she purred in Russian, tightening her arms around his neck and urging him to bring his head down to hers.
He complied, lowering his head and brushing his lips across hers and across her cheek. “I have no idea what you’re saying, but it’s the hottest thing I’ve ever heard.”
She sighed blissfully and moaned when he nipped at her neck and jaw.
“Fuck, baby,” he growled.
“Yeah,” she whispered, feeling herself grow wetter and wetter in anticipation. “Let’s do that.”
He picked her up in his arms and strode with her toward his bedroom.
She laughed and kicked off her boots as they went. “I can walk, you know!”
He glowered down at her in mock annoyance. “Every time I let you walk, you manage to do naughty things. Like get into an altercation with the biggest Russian motherfucker around, right in front of my house. No, from now on, I carry you and put you where I want you.”
She laughed and lightly smacked his chest. “You are such a misogynist pig!”
“Maybe,” he grinned unrepentantly. “But at least this pig knows where his woman is at.”
She laughed crazily as he strode through his dark bedroom, through another doorway and set her on her feet. Her toes curled as they made contact with cold tile. He flicked on a light. She had expected to be blinded, but the light was a soft glow coming from behind the mirror. At her questioning look, he explained that he had installed a light behind the mirror for when he wanted a relaxing shower with dimmer lights.
She marvelled at the tiny piece of knowledge he gave her. Something she knew about him that didn’t come from an illicitly gained file. He turned on the taps in a large stone shower cubicle and then swiftly relieved her of his T-shirt.
“As much as I love the look of you in my clothes, I much prefer this view.”
She laughed. “Same goes, fighter. Off with the jeans.”
He raised a brow at her demand, removing the last garment that would come between them. Her heart picked up a rapid pace as she finally had the time to devour him with her eyes while they waited for the water to heat. She traced every inch of him, licking her lips in appreciation.
“Keep looking at me like that, baby, and I’m gonna come right here on the bath mat.”
Startled, her eyes flew to the part of his anatomy he mentioned. He was definitely ready for another go. In memory of his earlier ravishment her knees grew weak and she leaned back against the counter. As she watched, his cock grew harder still, springing out from a nest of dark blond curls. Tattoos marked his hips and thighs, catching her gaze.
He stepped back, allowing her room to get past him and into the steaming shower. “In. Now.”
Anya swayed toward him, releasing her grip on the counter. She felt suddenly shy. She wanted to touch him with her lips and her eyes, she wanted to worship his body and linger over each mark, each tattoo. She had so many questions. She was curious about him in a way that she had never been about anyone.
She didn’t touch him as she moved past him, her feet gliding along the smooth ceramic tile and then touching the stone flooring of the shower as she stepped in. She breathed deeply, inhaling his unique aroma, savouring him. He allowed her to pass unmolested, but she felt him tense as her body passed within inches of his.
The huge shower took up nearly half of the bathroom. The luxurious interior had a stone bench that one could sit on if they wanted. Shampoo bottles and soap lined a stone shelf nearby. The shower head itself was customized with a rain shower sprayer, but the water pressure was high enough that the energetic spray could reach most parts of the cubicle.
“Very nice,” she said, in admiration of the luxurious shower.
“Nicest ass I’ve ever seen,” he agreed, coming up behind her with a bar of soap.
Anya moaned when he began gliding soapy hands all over her body. He worked her over with sure, firm strokes, turning her this way and that so he could gain access to every part of her. He even lifted her leg onto the bench and stroked the soap along her vulnerable pussy and ass, despite her squeak of protest at the intimate cleaning.
She gained a little revenge after he had finished and pushed her into the shower spray for a rinse. She reached for the bar of soap and, taking it from his hand, began stroking her smaller hands across his hard body. She slithered around him until she was facing his back and massaged soapy fingers into his tight muscles. He groaned and tossed his head back spraying her with cold water droplets from his spiky hair.
Anya ran her hands all over him from his neck and shoulders, down his back, across his butt and, kneeling, she also cleaned his legs. She crawled around to the front of his body and began working her way back up. She stared up at him, watching every expression that crossed his face as she worked over his body. He looked like he was in heaven. She wondered if no one had done this for him before. Sadly, he probably hadn’t ever let anyone get close enough to see him so vulnerable.
And yet he was allowing her unlimited access to his naked body. Just as earlier, he had fallen asleep in her arms. She swallowed a lump in her throat. She felt as though her being here, in his home, was significant to him.
She made her way back up his body, spending only a little time on his engorged penis, knowing if she lingered there too long it would be game over. And she was enjoying herself quite a lot.
She was standing in front of him, sliding the bar of soap across his magnificent pectoral muscles when he finally tilted his head forward and stared down at her with blazing eyes. The intense possession of his stare made her suddenly feel like the vulnerable one. Like it was not him at the mercy of her ministrations, but his way of maneuvering her even further into his space. The soap dropped from her fingers and landed on the stone tile between their feet.
“You know what happens when you drop the soap, baby?”
Anya’s breathing grew rapid, her small breasts swaying, nipples tight in the sting of the shower spray. She gasped as he seized her hips and swung her around, facing away from him. He pushed her toward the bench and with a hand on her back, bent her over in front of him. She reached out and placed her hands on the bench, her fingers splayed out. He nudged her feet apart, and pushed against her lower back, forcing her down even more. She was helpless, opened up to him from behind. She couldn’t see anything. Only feel, as he slid a hand over her ass and down.
He stopped at her pussy, gently massaging with his thick fingers. She was immediately engulfed in sensations. Pleasure, centred in her vagina, streaked outward, up her torso and down her legs. She spread her legs even further, pushing back against his hand, grinding her clit against his seeking fingers. She moaned and tossed her head, her hair slapping wetly against her bare skin.
“Ah, you like that,” he said huskily.
“Yes!” she moaned back. “Please Ash, I want it so bad.”
He wedged long fingers in her and began massaging her from the inside. She tried bringing her hands up to press against the stone wall, but he shoved her back down, until her head nearly touched the bench. The tightening sensation of her pussy made the sensations so unbearably good that she cried out.
“Please. Please, fuck me now Ash!” she begged.
He ignored her, continuing his assault. She barely noticed when his wandering fingers moved up her ass to the puckered hole of her anus. She tried to move when she felt him begin to massage her there, but he held her immobile. His f
eet, on the inside of hers, stopped her from closing her legs and the heavy hand on her back prevented her from standing. She was forced to submit to whatever ministrations he chose to play out on her body.
“Ash!” she gasped as pleasure streaked uncontrollably through her. “What are you doing to me?”
“I promised,” he grunted, forcing his thumb through the soapy outer ring of her asshole. “That I would make you come harder than ever before. Now, come for me, baby.”
As his thumb slid into her ass, his other fingers continued to torture her engorged clit. Anya keened wildly, her hips bucking under his hands as she came for him, harder than she’d done ever before. Her body collapsed forward in a boneless heap. He caught her, sliding an arm under her waist. With his other hand he reached past her and picked up a condom wrapper from next to the shampoo dispenser.
Anya whimpered, knowing her battered body was about to take another round of intense pounding. She craved it with every fibre of her being, knowing it was going to be a wild ride.
Ash chuckled darkly and kissed the spot between her shoulder blades after he’d rolled the condom on. “You’re so tiny compared to me, we aren’t going to be able to do this the old fashioned way.”
Anya straightened and tried to turn around.
“No, babe, I want you from behind. I want access to that perfect little asshole.”
Anya blushed and allowed him to push her back around. He lifted her onto the bench, until she was kneeling on the smooth stone tile. He pushed her upper body back down. She was facing away from him, her head down, cheek pressed against the bench. He widened her stance as much as he could in the close confines.
Fight or Flight (Fire & Vice Book 2) Page 6
