by Kells, India
“The front door was locked.”
“It’s only a lock, Deva. Something that can be opened easily by someone with skills, don’t you think?”
The way he said her name, lingering with a deep rumble, heat pooled between her legs. Deva hated her reaction to him as much as she understood it. Sometimes the body had ways of making its needs known.
“And this is not the locker room. You are in my personal space, sitting on my worktable.”
“Da. I see you have excellent eyes. And when I returned, and you were still here, I thought it was the perfect moment to ask you for a... treatment.”
Deva knew better and crossed her arms. “I’m off the clock, and I don’t offer the ‘services’ you are clearly asking me for.”
Something flashed in his fascinating eyes before his face closed off. “I know what you do here, and I’m not looking for a whore. I have no interest in that. I’ve never paid for sex in my life.”
And Deva was convinced it was true. With his muscled body and the charisma around him like a magnet, there was no way a sane woman would say no to him.
“So, what do you need, Mr. Voronov?”
His stance calmed at her question, and a smile returned to his lips. “Please, call me Aleksei. I decided to jog back here, but I started to feel a slight pain above the right knee. At first, I thought it would calm down once my body had warmed up, but instead, it increased.”
Was it an elaborate lie or the truth? Even if she had her suspicions, the therapist in her decided to check it out. She crouched in front of him and started to unfasten the side of the pants from the ankle up to two snaps above the right knee. There again, was more ink. Crouching in front of him, she started to run her fingers on each side of the joint, pressing to detect anything unusual. “Does that hurt?”
“No.” And he wasn’t lying; his breathing was deep and slow.
As a comparative, she unfastened his left leg and ran her fingers against the joint. Aleksei remained still as a statue, only answering her questions with a yes or no. When she returned and touched just below his right knee, she felt him tense in anticipation. “Does that hurt?”
“No.” And she had guessed right. Gently, she let her fingertips glide over his knee, feather-light. Continuing her examination, she didn’t detect any edema or inflammation, but some tension. A few inches past the problematic area, she pressed harder on the thigh muscle, and the man jerked.
“Did it hurt?” Same question, but this time he hesitated.
“It’s a kind of ache, but there’s no pain.”
As she suspected, she got back on her feet. “Lie down.”
“I don’t need to lie down for you to treat knee pain.”
Crossing her arms, Deva looked at the man who was annoying her, and more. “Your knee is okay so far, but the tension in the thigh muscle is pulling too much on it. If you don’t relieve some of the tension, it can impact your tendons and then provoke knee pain. It seems to be a common pain with you fighters, along with shoulders and lower back pain. With you sitting like that, it doesn’t give me proper access.”
“Access?” Aleksei arched a brow as if he didn’t understand the sentence.
“Do you want me to help you? Because I’m too tired to play games. If you don’t, I’ll close up here and go take a shower at home and eat.” She knew she had an opening, the first and maybe only one, and by playing hard, she may lose it. However, acting out of character would be a dead giveaway.
The man’s eyes darkened into a storm of gray clouds, his jaw tight as he debated.
“And if I don’t trust you. You’ll have the upper hand, with me lying on my back.”
“I won’t threaten your virtue, fighter. And it’s a question of trust, isn’t it? What if I have a blade in my boot or poison in my massage oil?”
His jaw tightened more, and he swallowed before relaxing again and shifting to sit and then lie on his back, his eyes never leaving hers. “Do your worst.”
It was a strange sensation to have a man under her hands that she knew was dangerous and represented everything she despised, and yet, she still trusted him despite his power and strength. He may be docile at the moment, but he could turn on her suddenly. Deva fed on his power, giving her the edge, she needed to continue, steadying her in the process.
Without a word, ignoring his focus on her, she started removing his running shoes and socks, one foot, then the other. Then, Deva grabbed a sling with her oil bottle as well as two other containers and moved to Aleksei’s side. Without waiting for his permission, she finished opening his pants, one side, and then, the other. And as she suspected, he had running boxer briefs underneath. She folded the top half of the pants and put it on the small side bench. And as the black brief ran on the longer side over the leg, she pushed it up some more. His hips shifted slightly, but she didn’t dare look up at his face. Deva was glad that the heat rising to her face could be cleverly hidden by her recent run and the dim ambient lights. Her skin had always been pale, color rising quickly to her cheeks, revealing her emotions too much.
Ignoring her own restlessness, she pumped oil into her hands, warming it a bit before gliding her palms against the adorned expanse of skin and muscle. Adding pressure ever so slowly, she contoured the tense muscle repeatedly, following it onto the knee. Satisfied with its reaction, Deva worked on the upper part of the thigh, inching higher and higher, even working her fingers underneath the leg of the boxer briefs. Aleksei inhaled sharply but didn’t comment. It wasn’t necessary; his body gave her all the proof she needed; his cock pushing hard against the dark fabric of his underwear. Her professionalism winced at what she was about to do, but she was very curious about how much she could push her luck. After all, Gabrielle, Lazarus, and Beatrice wanted her to establish a relationship with the man. Here was an opportunity to be friendly, and their connection was burning too hot to be on the friendly side. Only one option remained.
“Remove your underwear.”
It was pure pleasure for Deva to see him blink. It was obvious he hadn’t been stunned often but Aleksei recovered quickly as his wicked grin reappeared with a vengeance. So, it seemed he hadn’t expected his appointment to be completely professional.
“Well, I see you have changed your mind.”
“Not at all, your thigh muscle is connected to your hip, and I need access, your briefs are in the way. If you are shy, Mr. Voronov, let me get you a sheet to cover yourself up. I must have a small one perfect for you somewhere.”
When she sidestepped as if to go and get one, a strong hand closed around her wrist. Turning back to him, Aleksei’s eyes were on her, heat replacing sarcasm. Letting go of her, and never breaking eye contact, he swiftly removed and tossed away his t-shirt and boxers, offering an unencumbered view of his naked form.
There he was, gloriously naked, a woman’s wet dream, well, hers at least. And he was a big man. His cock hardened under her stare, bobbing toward his abs, darkening as she detailed its texture and veins. And she wasn’t the only one affected. Aleksei was breathing harder, his body tensing, showing his ripped, quivering muscles on display. What she admired almost as much as his cock, was the level of restraint. He could have reached for her, pulled at her clothing, but he didn’t. He lay there, rigid, staring.
Deva let her eyes drag over him, detailing his ink and his skin, until she reached his eyes, a gray so dark now, the same color of the clouds just before the first cracks of lightning. Mechanically, her hands returned to his knee, and she heard him hiss and speak words she didn’t understand.
Back to the task at hand, she focused on the muscle, repeating the same pattern as before, but with longer strokes toward his lower belly and hip. As her hands teased close to the junction of his thighs, he parted them slowly, offering a clear view of his sack. A silent plea she would ignore for now, as she did her own ache between her legs. When her hand splayed on his hip, he bowed slightly, and it took everything in her to ask him if he was in pain. But in the end, she couldn
’t resist.
“Da, I’m in pain. But not where you are touching me.”
Breathless, Deva continued her massage. Forcing groans from him, the pressure of her fingers working on his tense muscle. As the touch was less sensual, she saw his member deflating a bit. It took a while for her to be satisfied with her work, and was glad to see a mist covering his delectable skin. At least, she wasn’t the only one who had to work for it.
“On your left side, please.”
Without a word he complied, and in this position, she could leisurely ogle his admirable backside. Her hands worked tirelessly on his lower back, hip and lower abdomen until the problematic muscle softened, and something rather rigid touched her wrist. Did she dare to touch him now? Or not?
Oiling her hands once more, Deva bypassed finesse and grabbed his throbbing member in her warm, slippery hand.
The sound coming from Aleksei made her clit throb in desperation, so much so that she squeezed her thighs together hard, trying to alleviate the intensity of the sensation. Leaning her mound against the table, she rocked, seeking pressure, as her hand fisted him, exploring the texture of his skin, the tremors and trembling, the increased pumping of blood. She didn’t increase the pressure or pace, simply stroking him at the same time she pressed against the table, her other hand keeping her upright.
Aleksei didn’t touch her, his hands closed into tight fists, his eyelids drooping as pleasure took over his body. When she twisted her wrist, his hands gripped the table, his breath wheezing through his clenched teeth. Seeing him at her mercy, Deva reveled in her domination until the fighter on her table seized her hand and changed the tempo. His grip on her hand tightened, and he made her accelerate until Deva thought the movement must have caused some pain. He released her and closed his eyes, silently ordering her to continue at the same strength and speed.
“God woman, I knew you would be talented with that type of service.”
Lust vanished in a matter of seconds at his words. For an instant, she had lost control and had been reminded why she should never allow it with this kind of man.
Deva opened her fingers at what must have been seconds before his release. The most painful moment in her opinion. Bereft, Aleksei looked at her as if lost and confused. Wiping her hand with a towel, she turned and threw it at his crotch with force. With anger burning clean her desire, she grabbed her bag and clothes and turned just before going out the door.
“You just can’t shut the fuck up, can you? That being the case, I’ll let you finish by yourself. Clean up after yourself.”
And she was gone.
To read Lost Bastard
mybook.to/lostbastard
Sneak Peek: To Fool an Assassin
Book one of the Women of Purgatory Series
Read about Gabrielle and Sullivan
mybook.to/tofoolanassassin
Johannesburg, South Africa
The throbbing in his head and side didn’t lessen. Probably because of being in a cell for so long or, almost certainly, caused by the latest beating he received from his captors.
Captain Sullivan Thorne, Navy SEAL and now an undercover agent in deep shit, never ceased to analyze the situation. So far, the guards didn’t have a steady round pattern, neither the same men come and go with any regularity. New faces, new times; sometimes they stayed longer, or they left after a glance. The only consistent men were his torturers. Same three bastards, same questions, same beating. Over and over again, for three days now, if his calculations were accurate. There were no windows or any outside light apart from the blinding neon swaying above.
So far, he knew he could endure this for a while longer. In fact, he had suffered worse in his career, and for the information he gathered for the Admiral, he would push himself even past his breaking point. Whatever it was. What worried him most was not the pain, but the lack of water, food, and sleep. He could withstand a lot, but without vitals, he would become weaker, more susceptible to mistakes and slips.
Leaning back against the wall, he extended his legs. His jeans clung and pulled his skin due to the heat and dried blood. One by one, he moved and stretched his muscles, making sure he didn’t get too stiff or sore.
Warmed up, he closed his eyes and tried to catch a power nap before anyone would notice. As he leaned back his head, he heard loud voices and some kind of commotion in the hallway. What forced him to react was a female voice. Definitely female… in hysterics and tears. What the—
The door crashed open and a very blonde, teary, and pregnant female barged into the room.
The guards followed suit and it took everything in him not to smile at how they seemed desperate to get her out of here and calm her down.
Did he know her? Beyond the tears and reddened face, he was pretty sure she was a total stranger. What’s she doing? And more importantly, how did she get in here?
Then, the teary fury turned to him and froze. “Baby? Is that you?”
Baby? Her southern accent was so thick he almost blinked. She hugged her enormous belly with one hand and reached for him through the bars with the other.
“Babycakes! It’s me, your wife, Jenny Lee. Don’t you recognize me? It took me so long to find you!”
Sully was about to frown when he saw the blonde wink her baby blues at him. Was this a trap?
“Come on, sweetheart, how could you forget me? Please, honey bee, grab my hand, and let me touch you …”
Warily, he got on his knees and reached for her. If it was a trick, the blonde woman would pay for it. When she grabbed his hand, he was surprised by her strength. She cupped his head to awkwardly kiss him through the bars, and he felt something slide into his hand. A key.
When the blonde kissed him lightly on the lips, the softness made him forget the pain in his body, and the harsh conditions surrounding them.
The two guards grew restless and pulled her back. She winked at him again, but before he could draw a breath, she punched one guard on the windpipe, silencing him, while breaking the neck of the other. The blonde turned back and then sliced his throat open. Each movement was done with outstanding precision. She was a seasoned operative, no doubt about it. As she grabbed the guard’s phone, he used the key to unlock his cell.
“Captain Sullivan Thorne, I’m Gabrielle, your rescue party today.”
Well, well, gone was the accent. Now, it was more difficult to know where she came from. She seemed to have a non-descript accent.
“Who sent you?”
“The request was made by Admiral Feander.”
The Admiral? He’d thought he would send a SEAL Team for help, not a single operative.
“You work for him?”
“More or less.”
Frowning, Sully was about to ask for whom she worked when she removed her flower dress over her head.
His brain blanked for a moment as he noticed all the white skin and curves, but mostly the attached pouch. She wasn’t pregnant after all. How he’d believed this in the first place, he didn’t know.
The woman named Gabrielle, now in white lace boy shorts and bra, dropped the pouch on the ground and unzipped it, revealing more firepower. “I wasn’t sure the guards would have what we need to defend ourselves while getting out.”
Sully grabbed one gun and checked the ammunition before tucking it into his waistband and grabbing another one.
“What is our escape route?”
After putting her dress back on, the woman slung the backpack over her shoulders before taking one gun. “Two doors down the hallway, there’s a storage room. It’s supposed to have an exit door.”
“Supposed to?”
The woman grimaced, her eyes turning to ice, and he guessed it wasn’t a good sign.
“I’m sorry, sir, but the situation is sketchy, and all available information even more so. Would you prefer to wait back in your cell, so I can find an escape and bring your limo around?”
Whoa, she caught fire fast, that’s for sure.
“I know how a rescue
can be. Now can we move on?”
Without a word, she opened the door, looking around before motioning him to follow her. Less than ten seconds later, they were both in the storage room.
“Shit,” Gabrielle muttered.
“What?” Sully tried to keep his voice as low as possible.
“The escape route is blocked. The door’s been sealed.”
He examined the area. “What door?”
“According to the plan, there was supposed to be an emergency door opposite this door. Do you see a door?”
He walked to the wall and gently knocked on it. “It seems to only be sheetrock. There may be a door behind it.”
Gabrielle shook her head. “No good. If the door is nailed shut, it would be too tricky, and we would make too much noise trying to open it.”
“Do you have a plan B?” She better, because walking out of here all guns blazing was out of the question.
Gabrielle checked around and smiled. “I think I have an idea.”
***The alarm was blaring so loudly Gabrielle was unable to hear Captain Thorne’s voice over the noise. Guards were running all around, ignoring them, exactly as she had planned. It wasn’t easy to come up with something on the spur of the moment, with an angry SEAL behind her. As if all of his ops went as planned. She refrained from reminding him that if his own mission had gone to plan, she wouldn’t be there trying to save his hide.
The smoke became thicker by the minute. The old mattress in the storage room did the job without a glitch. They were in the basement, and since smoke goes up, it was an easy feat. The extra bit of luck was finding a black coverall and cap. It fit snugly on him, but ultimately appeared more like a uniform. It hid his blood-stained pants and shirt, and the cap tucked low on his face hid most of his features and dark short hair. The final touch was her getting back into pregnancy mode, being carried in the arms of this man. As expected, her blonde hair, flowery dress, and imposing stomach drew attention away from the captain. In the complete chaos, they were able to exit the building through the front door.
