by Nicole Fox
I catch the thought, driving it down. What sort of pussy shit is that? Learning each other and ourselves? Yet … it’s true. The way she’s trembling, I have never been this locked-in, this unable to look away.
When the shock orgasm passes, she blinks her eyes open, gasping.
“I don’t even … I can’t even … what the hell?”
“I could play with these nipples for days.” I slide my hand under her hoodie and up her hot skin. “I’m not joking, Jamie. I would lie you on your back, naked, and suck and caress and bite your nipples until you were aching for me to touch your sex. When I slid into you, we’d both be so excited, you’d open for me right away. And when I touched deep inside of you with my rock-hard cock, you’d come just as easily as you just did.”
She whimpers, but then glares at me. “Don’t forget who’s in charge.”
“I am,” I retort, “And you are, too. That’s what makes this so goddamn confusing and perfect.”
She moans loudly when I crush her in the kiss. I have never been the kissing type, but when I feel Jamie’s rough, warm lips, I lose myself in it. Squeezing her breast with one hand, I slide the other hand around to her back, bracing her, our tongues stroking and writhing around each other. I can feel her heart beating through her breast, a heavy thumping, telling me how badly she wants this.
I am surprised by the hunger the kiss provokes in me. I sink into it, deeper, longer, groaning loudly. I love the taste of her. I love the way she shivers when my beard strokes her cheeks. I love that, when I open my eyes for a moment, her eyelids are fluttering in captivated desire. I close my eyes and push her against the wall.
When I lift her, she slides her legs around my hips as naturally as slipping on a glove. She fits.
Finally, she breaks off the kiss and looks me straight in the eye. There’s this spark in her, not unlike when she’s in one of her photographer frenzies. “I need you,” she gasps. “Right now, Andrei. Right fucking now.”
“Right now?” I snarl. Pinning her against the wall, I roughly wrench her yoga pants down. She tucks her legs up and I lean down, stripping her bare. Her panties cling wetly to her knees, tangled. With one savage movement, I tear them free. “Is that what you want? You want the Beast?”
“Yes!” she cries. “Fuck, it’s like you’re reading my mind, Andrei.”
“That’s because I am.” I toy with her lips, fingering her clit. “Every shiver is like a signal. You’re telling me how hard you want it, how you want me to take charge. But I know you, Jamie. You’re too proud to tell me. So just nod. Nod and I’ll take charge.”
Her eyes flare. Her sex gushes down her thighs, covering my hand. Biting her lip, she nods.
She whimpers when I carry her across the room and lay her down on the workout mats. In a matter of seconds, my shorts are down, my boxers off. I grab her by the shoulders and flip her over. When she tries to kneel up, I lay my hand on the small of her back, pressing her down.
“I want you flat,” I tell her. “I want you at my mercy.”
“Fuck—yes,” she sighs. “You have no idea how wild you’re driving me right now.”
“But I do,” I snarl. “Stay there.”
“Like this?” she whispers, pushing her hips up, her lips parting a little, showing the pink of her sex. My cock twitches. Pre-come slides endlessly down my savage sinful length.
“Yes.” My voice is trembling.
“Careful,” she sasses. “It sounds like you’re the one losing control now, Andrei.”
I try to laugh it off, but she’s right. The way she’s craning her head around to look at me, the vicious glint in her eyes, it’s driving me crazy. I smooth my hand over her ass, watching the ripple of tension moving through her body when I stroke close to her wanting sex.
I swat my hand down on her ass cheeks, feeling the bouncy springiness of her flesh. She makes a sexy whimpering noise, and then widens her eyes at me. “Is that all you’ve got? Ah!”
Harder, I spank her, my red handprint already appearing on her cheeks. She moans, “Harder, harder.”
I bring my hand up high this time, taking careful aim, my whole body trembling in barely restrained desire. But, when I bring it down, she flips over and catches my wrist. She tilts her head at me, feisty and confident.
“How about this instead, huh?” she teases, guiding my hand to her sex.
“How did you move so damn fast?”
“Because I’m full of surprises?” she whispers. “Or, maybe, you were too distracted staring at my ass like you were hypnotized?”
“I was hypnotized,” I tell her, and then shove her down so she’s lying on her back. I slide two fingers into her sex. The heat almost destroys me, almost turns me into a growling, slathering mess. I’ve never touched a pussy this hot before. I slide a third finger inside, stretching her, going deep.
“Come,” I tell her. “Come and then I’m going to fuck you fast and hard. I can’t promise not to empty myself in you after a few strokes. You’re too damn sexy. So take your pleasure now. Now.”
My command has a huge effect on her. Gripping onto my wrist so that her nails bite into my skin, she lets out a moan that makes my cock even harder, her hoodie lifting to show her belly. Fingering her hard and fast, I use my other hand to lift her hoodie and reveal her nipples.
“Play with them,” I command. “Touch yourself.”
“Like this?” she cries, tugging on her nipples impatiently. I can’t look away, fixated as she pinches them, twisting them softly. “Oh, deeper. Higher. Harder.”
She gushes all over my hand, her pussy going tight around my fingers, her legs closing as though to trap me, as though she’s afraid I’m going to take the pleasure away. I pump my fingers until she has come on my hand, and then, unable to hold myself back any more, I lean over her, guiding my throbbing cock to her fire-hot entrance.
As I push in inch by tempting inch, she braces her hands on my shoulders, her eyes locked on mine. Usually, eye contact like this would make me uncomfortable. But I find I like watching Jamie’s face as I slide inside of her. I can map the pleasure she’s feeling in the way her features contort, the way her lips twist. The widening of her eyes tells me she loves every steamy movement.
I have barely stroked in and out of her six or seven times before both of us are moaning loudly. She smirks at me as if to say, Are we seriously going to come together, right now, so soon? I smirk back. It’s the first time, in my entire life, that I’ve had a silent conversation during sex like this.
It feels natural. It feels easy.
Then she grips the back of my neck and drags me down into a kiss. But we can’t kiss for long; our pleasure is too demanding. We open our mouths instead, breathing each other in, groaning as we reach our shared climax. Cock pulsating, I feel her going tight around me at the same time.
We come, hard, together.
And then I roll aside, collapsing on the mat, my chest heaving in and out heavily as I regain any sense of control. I completely lost myself there. I thought I had her, I really did, when I was spanking her. But the way she turned around and caught my wrist, she turned the tug-of-war in her favor.
“That nipple stuff was amazing,” she giggles, laying her head against my chest.
I stiffen for a moment, shocked by the intimacy. It must say a lot about me, that I can be inside of a woman one moment, but be shocked when she wants to hug the next. But then I find that it’s far too easy to relax and put my arm around her.
“It was,” I agree. “I have never …” I have never done that with anybody else. I shake my head, not wanting to mention other women, not that it should matter, right? “Jamie, what date is it?”
“Wow, random,” she says. “You planning something?”
I laugh easily, masking my true intentions. “Yes, a vacation,” I joke. “I’m thinking of the Maldives.”
“It’s May fifteenth,” she tells me. “Why?”
“Just wondering. I’ve lost all sense of time in here.”
May fifteenth. That means Russia Day is less than a month away, which means that if Egor got my message, that’s when he’ll mount his rescue attempt. I have to start keeping track of the dates so that I can be ready.
“Andrei, I …”
“Yes?” I look down at her, my hand in her hair.
“That feels really good,” she admits with an endearing laugh.
“Better than what we just did?”
“Well, not that good.” She smiles, but then this tension comes into her expression. I know what it is at once. This moment has passed. She’s realized, as I have, how dangerous this is. The obstacles are too many. Our Russian-Irish conflict is too big.
I’m glad, because closeness means weakness. Osip taught me that. I’ve been forgetting the lesson far too easily of late.
“What were you going to say?” I ask, but I know she won’t, not now.
What could she possibly say? That she wants this? That she cares about this? About me?
I push those absurd thoughts away as I lean up and reach for my shorts. She does the same, and, in a matter of seconds, both of us are dressed. When we’re standing in the living area, it’s like the closeness never happened. She nods at her camera bag. “I need a few photos,” she says. “And tomorrow, I need to warn you, we’re going to do a shoot in the garden. I’m toying with a couple of ideas. Either, I’m going to use The Beast to contrast with a domestic setting, like this kitchen area and stuff. Or I’ll use nature. I’m not sure which yet.”
I study her coldly. “A lot of demands. Bring me another feast, and then we’ll talk.”
She rolls her eyes. “I got you this place!”
“You did, and now you will get me the food I’ve asked for.”
She glares. “You’ve got to be kidding. I could have you sent back to the other cell like that.” She snaps her fingers. “You do know that, right?”
“Yes, but you will not … you do know that, right?”
She smiles for a second, and then sticks her middle finger up at me. “Prick,” she snaps, but she’s clearly enjoying the back-and-forth. “Wait here. I’ll go get your food. But then, it’s picture time, deal?”
“Deal,” I say, smiling. “And after I’m done feasting on the Russian food, I’m going to feast on every inch of your body. I’m going to fuck you until you can’t catch your breath, and then fuck you again. Deal?”
She shakes her head ruefully, her neck flushing that gorgeous red. “Deal.”
After she’s gone—tucking her ruined panties in her pocket—I take the metal can lid and go into the bathroom. In the corner, I make a small gouge in the wall, marking the day. Twenty-eight marks like this, and then, hopefully, Egor will do what the Bratva does best: rain hellfire down on these Irish bastards and get me the fuck out of here.
15
Jamie
I feel conflicted as Garret and I walk down to Andrei’s cell to get him for the garden photo shoot. All day long, I’ve been thinking about this tug-of-war we’ve got going on, this weird war for control. One second, I feel like I’m the one in charge. He’s the one in a cell, for crying out loud! But then, all of a sudden, he’ll turn the tables on me, leaving me in his thrall, where I’m hanging on his every movement, whimpering in submissive pleasure and, even more confusing, dying to see where our bantering and our chemistry will take us next.
So, as we ride the elevator down, I try to remind myself that he’s just my prisoner, my photography subject. I make a resolution to stay strong.
And, predictably, it crumbles the second I see him.
He emerges from the gym, sweat coating his body in rivulets, sliding between the deep crevices of his muscles. It’s impossible to overstate just how sexy he is, throbbing, ferocious. He makes other men look tiny.
“It’s time, Russian,” Garret snarls. “Put some goddamn clothes on.”
Andrei looks at me for a few long moments, his patent smirk on his face. “I would like to alter the terms of our deal. I want my payment first.”
A thrill runs through me, even as I shoot an urgent look toward Garret, warning Andrei to stop this. If he gets too obvious, even Garret’s loyalty to me might not save him—save us, our relationship, whatever the heck that is. Not that I care, I remind myself.
So, yeah, sue me. I’m confused!
“What payment?” Garret snarls. “Stop talking out your ass.”
Andrei smirks easily. Fuck you until you can’t catch your breath—that’s what he said he wanted to do to me. That was our ‘deal’ …
A shiver attacks me. I’m so dialed-in to this man, his every gesture and subtle change in expression drawing my full attention. Maybe that’d be embarrassing, if it wasn’t the same the other way around. This is a two-way obsession.
“My food, of course,” Andrei says slyly, all but winking at me. “We had a deal, did we not?”
“Haven’t they brought you your food already?”
“Yes,” he allows. “But you know my appetite. You know how hungry I get.” His eyes gleam with double meaning. He really is playing a dangerous game tonight.
I roll my eyes, trying for casual. “We had a deal! You can get some more food after the shoot.”
He shrugs, leaning against the wall. “You are making a big mistake, Jamie, if you still believe you are in charge.”
Garret steps forward, raising his rifle. “Is that so, Russian? How about this, eh? Who’s in charge now?”
Andrei just glances at the gun like it’s a toy. “I am,” he says flatly. “And one day soon, all of you Irish motherfuckers will see.” Fierce fury blazes in his eyes. “Just wait.”
I sigh. “Let’s just get him some food, for fuck’s sake.” I don’t want this to get out of hand. I shoot Andrei a look: jerk.
He winks, and, absurdly, I can’t help but smile. Garret isn’t happy about it, but we order Andrei some more food. As we wait, he whistles casually, and then begins to sing softly in Russian, which is basically a big ol’ fuck you to proud Irishman Garret.
Finally, Ronan brings a paper bag of Russian takeout. When I carry it over to Andrei, he smirks down at it, and then kicks away from the wall. “Do you know something?” he says. “I have completely lost my appetite. Should we just get on with the shoot after all?”
I groan in frustration, realizing he was just toying with us all along. Garret looks furious as he slaps the handcuffs on Andrei and puts the black bag over his head. As I watch him prod Andrei out of the cell, leading him toward the elevator, I feel another pang of confusion. It just looks wrong, somehow, treating Andrei this way. I feel like he deserves more respect.
What the hell has gotten into me?
We ride the elevator up and go through the house into the garden, next to the magnolia, which, I think, is going to make for a really interesting shot. You have The Beast, terrifying and primal, next to this delicate and beautiful tree. It will be a good contrast. I’m just setting up my camera gear—Garret guarding Andrei—when I hear a very distinctive whistling noise behind me.
Oh shit.
That’s Declan’s whistle. What the hell is he doing here? I thought Dad and Rafferty and Declan had business to handle, which is specifically why I chose tonight to do this. I turn to find Declan there, Jerry at his side, both of them clearly drunk, both of them grinning menacingly.
“What’s this, then?” Declan laughs, weaving from side to side slightly. Sweat slides down his face. “A little shoot for your little project, eh?”
“I thought you were at the club,” I point out.
A dark look passes across Jerry’s face, almost like a warning look: don’t mention the club. But it’s too late. Declan is already ranting.
“The club!” he snaps. “The fucking club, Jamie! Do you want to know what happened at the club? Dad—my own father—he tells me I’m too drunk to handle business, he tells me I need to go and sober up. He says this in front of Cormac, talks down to me. My own father. Can you believe that?”
Yes, I c
an. I smell the whiskey drifting over to me from where he’s wavering on the patio to the magnolia.
From inside the black bag, Andrei says, “There is nothing more pathetic than a man who cannot handle his drink, Irishman.”
“The fuck you just say?” Declan roars, staggering clumsily across the garden as he reaches for his pistol. Jerry stalks behind him, grinning. “Eh? Say it again! Say it again!”
“Stop it. You know you can’t hurt him. Dad has forbidden it. Just—just go inside, please. I’m trying to work here!”
“Work!” Declan laughs meanly. “Don’t pretend this shit is work, slut.”
“What did you just fucking say?” Garret roars, running forward, his face twisted in anger. I quickly dart between them, putting my hand on his chest. He fumes, eyeing Declan like he’s a grub. “Are you forgetting who you’re speaking to? Take it back or, I swear to God, I’ll beat you so bad you won’t be able to walk for weeks.”
Declan smirks at him, but, I note, he also looks around to make sure Jerry is backing him up. Coward. Things are getting so messy right now. It’s started to rain, too. The black clouds overhead make the darkness seem really broody and menacing. Even the weather is conspiring to make this one fucked-up evening.
“Careful, Garret,” Declan mutters. “You’re a good man. You’ve known me since I was a little kid. But be careful.”
“Don’t you dare call her a slut,” Garret snarls. “I mean it, Declan. Take it back.”
With a sarcastic bow, Declan grumbles, “Fine, fine, I take it back. Relax, old man.”
“Okay, we’ve all had our fun,” I say quickly. “But really, Declan, even if you don’t respect it, we have got work to do tonight. Can you please just leave us to it?”
“Fun, hmm, interesting,” Declan says, smirking at Jerry. The way Jerry smirks back encourages him. They’re like two schoolyard bullies. “That’s not a bad idea, having a little fun. I’ve got an idea, since Andrei Bakhtin is meant to be the big bad wolf. Why don’t we let Jerry here finally get his payback for all the disrespect Andrei has paid him? A little sparring session?”
