by Zaires, Anna
“Yan.” She clutches my shoulders. “I haven’t brushed my teeth.”
“Don’t worry. It’s not your mouth I’m going to kiss.” Gripping her thighs, I yank her to the edge of the bed.
She shrieks. Belatedly, she clamps a hand over her mouth.
I kneel between her legs. “They can’t hear.” The room is practically soundproof. “And if they do, I don’t give a fuck.”
I spread her wide and go straight for my prize. I don’t ask if she wants this. At this stage, the question is rhetorical. She moans as I alternate between sucking and nipping. Her arousal coats my chin, her wetness saying everything I want to know. I dip my tongue inside her warm pussy and nearly come in my pants when her inner muscles clench around the tip.
I need to make her come. Fast.
Licking her clit, I slide a finger inside. She arches her back. The action lifts her hips and gives me better access. The sounds she makes are sexy as hell, stoking the fire inside me to an unbearable inferno. Just like that, I lose control. I eat her like a maniac. The rhythm of my hand isn’t gentle. She grabs a fistful of the sheet and comes. I don’t wait for the aftershocks to settle. I’m too far gone. Flipping her around, I pull her up onto all fours.
“Don’t move,” I growl, watching her pussy contract around nothing as I strip quickly.
She’s stunning like this, wide open and poised for my viewing. I position my cock at her entrance and grab hold of her hips. She pushes backward, giving me compliance. The head of my cock stretches her as I slide in slowly. As always, she struggles to accommodate my size, but as soon as the head is sheathed, her muscles adapt. Her flesh turns softer, enticing me to push deeper. I do so inch by inch, watching the progress as I sink into her body, not stopping until I’m buried all the way inside.
Fuck. She’s tight. Warm. Made just for me.
I start to move, telling myself to take it easy, but my lust is dark, fueled by jealousy and a bitter need to prove my possession. The faster I go, the more it feels like it’s not enough. I’m fucking her hard, too hard, but I can’t stop. Her arms give out. She catches her weight on her elbows, her body rocking with my rough rhythm. She takes my brutal thrusts with her cheek pressed on the mattress and her lip caught between her teeth. Her brows are pinched together, her moans loud.
For her sake, I try to get it over with quickly. I go faster. Her knees buckle. She collapses onto her stomach. I climb onto the bed and over her, chasing after her without breaking the pace of my thrusting. Her closed legs add more friction, preventing me from driving to the hilt. With an arm around her waist, I lift her lower body and spread her knees with a thigh. I don’t know what comes over me. I only know how enticing her dark entrance looks as the rosebud teases me. I have no idea if she’s done this before, but it’s as if a demon took hold of my body.
“Stay,” I grit out, testing her weight to make sure she’ll stay on her knees before I let go.
Gripping her tight globes, I pull them apart. There’s no time for better lubrication than my saliva. I spit generously, yank my cock from her pussy, and press the head against the hole I’m about to claim.
“Yan.”
She reaches around, trying to grab my wrist, but her movement stills when I plunge forward. The tight ring of muscle gives with a soundless pop, her body yielding under the merciless pressure. She cries out, a frightened sound.
I freeze.
Fuck. What am I doing? She’s so tight her ass must be virgin.
“It’s all right.” My voice is hoarse with the dark need burning inside me, but my touch is gentle as I smooth a palm over her spine. “I’m not going to do anything you don’t want.”
She relaxes slightly at the promise, and I swear at myself again.
This is no way to initiate anal sex. She needs a warning in advance, lots of preparation. I start to pull out, but she grabs my arm.
“No,” she says softly. “I want this.”
I clench my jaw, fighting the urge to thrust in, hard. “We should wait.”
“I’m done waiting. Life’s too short.”
Her words jar me. There’s something melancholic about them. I want to ask what she means, but she’s pushing back, straining against me, and my cock slips an inch deeper.
Goddamn. She’s killing me. “Mina.” I lock my hands around her waist. “Slow down. I don’t want to tear you.”
She doesn’t listen. She rolls her hips, nearly driving me insane. I fight hard for control, ignoring the violent need boiling inside me. It takes everything I have and more to stretch her slowly with short, gentle thrusts. Every time her tight inner muscles adapt to the intrusion, I give a little more, shoving a bit deeper. The squeeze around my cock is almost unbearable. I grit my teeth as I make slow progress, fighting the urge to come each second I’m inside her.
Tearing my gaze away from where our bodies are connected, I look at Mina’s face. Her cheeks are red and her eyes hazy. A droplet of perspiration runs down her temple and drips on the sheet. I drag a hand over her flank up to her breast, caressing her nipple with one hand while slipping the other between her legs. Her ass dilates faster when I play with her clit. By the time I’m buried up to my balls, we’re both on the verge of coming. All it takes are a few long strokes and two swipes over her clit. She cries out my name as her ass clenches on my cock and her pussy around the finger I ruthlessly shove inside. Every muscle in her small frame draws tight.
Her orgasm triggers mine. I come the hardest I have in my life, filling her up with hot spurts of cum that don’t stop for several seconds. She collapses under me again, and I go down with her, covering her body with mine but making sure to keep my weight on my elbows. Nuzzling her neck, I plant soft kisses on her shoulder and down her spine. I stay inside her as long as she allows me. It’s only when she moans that I gently pull out.
Kneeling between her spread legs, I look at my work. It’s devastation and reverence all in one, an explosive mix of dark lust and beautiful passion. It may be wrong, unconventional, but that’s how it is between us. However twisted, this is who we are when we become one, and I’m already greedy for more. Forever with her won’t be enough. And it’s not a new notion. With every stolen glimpse and granted touch, the feeling is getting stronger.
Her body is so damn small. My fingers overlap when I circle her waist. Placing a palm between her shoulder blades, I feel her chest expand with breaths, and I soak in the reassurance of her heartbeat. It’s a wild rhythm. Even if I tried to take it easy, the sex must’ve been hard on her tiny frame. I check for blood or signs of bruising and sag in relief when I find none.
Rolling her onto her back, I kiss her gently. I cup her face and caress her like a man who lays himself at a woman’s feet. I want to give her this for the gift she’s given me. It’s inadequate, but it’s all I have that truly matters. It’s more than money and gifts, but nothing as prosaic as love.
Ours is not a sweet romance. It’s larger than love. Darker than love. And it’s hers. All hers.
After a long while of kissing, I pull back to look at her face. She’s a little pale, but she’s smiling.
“I thought you weren’t going to kiss my mouth,” she says, stretching her arms above her head.
“I lied.”
She pouts. “That’s not nice.”
Her playfulness is enticing, but I’m not biting yet. “How are you feeling?”
“Fine.”
“Did I hurt you?”
“A little.”
I like her honesty. I much prefer it to her lies. “Does it hurt still?”
“It burns a little.”
Getting up, I lift her into my arms and carry her to the bathroom. We shower together. It’s tender. It’s nice. Just like that, we’re back to the way we were, as if Budapest never happened. A gnawing tenseness darkens my mood when I think of the man she met, but I push it aside. I don’t want to spoil the moment.
While I pull on my clothes, I watch her dress from under my eyelashes. I drink her in
until I feel drunk on the novelty of having her back here, in my space. This is where she’ll fucking stay. I don’t care if she wants him. I’ll give her more, and in time, she’ll forget about him.
I’ll make it so good for her she won’t even remember his face.
* * *
Anton and Ilya are in the lounge when we go to the kitchen for breakfast. Our brief exchange is strained, but I don’t linger long enough for their sulking faces to sour my spirits. I tell them to clean the apartment—an instruction that elicits much protest—and take Mina clothes shopping for her meeting with Dimitrov.
We drive to an exclusive boutique chain store Petrova frequents. While Mina is browsing the dresses for something in Petrova’s style—a task she’s better equipped for than I am—I take a seat on the sofa in the waiting area and check the messages on my phone.
There’s a new one from our hackers.
Keeping one eye on Mina, I read the message. When I get to the second paragraph, I sit up straighter. My stomach churns, my blood boiling. I read the sentence again. And again.
“Yan?”
Mina’s soft voice breaks through the cloud of fury that threatens to smother me. I look up to see her standing in front of me, a white dress dangling from her fingers and a frown on her face.
“Is everything all right?” she asks warily.
No. Nothing is all right. I want to go on a murdering rampage. In fact, that’s exactly what I’ll do. “Did you say something?”
“I asked what you think about the dress.”
With difficulty, I turn my attention to the garment in her hand. It’s sleeveless and short, definitely something Petrova would wear. “Seems fitting for the occasion.”
She throws a thumb toward the fitting rooms. “I’m going to try it on.”
“Do that, and come show me.”
With a roll of her eyes, she walks off. I watch her enter the changing area. I see how dainty and beautiful she is, how fucking perfect, and everything is tainted with red and nothing is all right. I feel like vomiting. I turn back to the text on my phone, to the reason why Mina left the Special Forces, but all I can see is her small body and the ten soldiers who tried to violate it.
All I can see is the photo of my beautiful, perfect Mina, and how broken they left her.
23
Mina
The door of the changing room opens as I’m pulling up the zipper of the dress. For crying out loud. Did Yan seriously pick the lock? I get that he doesn’t trust me, but where will I go in a cubicle with no windows? I’m in a dead-end changing area. I’m not Houdini, for God’s sake.
“You don’t have to check up on me in here.” I turn with a scowl and freeze.
The man shutting the door behind him and turning the lock isn’t Yan. He’s blond with brown eyes and about sixty years old. I can easily take him out, which is why I don’t. I don’t feel threatened, but I’m vigilant.
I point at the door. “Get out.”
He puts a finger on his lips and motions for me to be quiet. I may not recognize his face, but I don’t miss the smile or the distinct way he carries himself with blatant fearlessness, a trait many mistake for arrogance or vanity.
My heart starts galloping so fiercely I can hear the blood pumping in my ears. “Gergo?”
He smiles.
Fuck, he’s good. No wonder they call him The Chameleon. My shock turns into fear. Is he crazy? Yan is sitting a short distance away. He can walk in on us at any minute.
I grab Gergo’s arm and whisper urgently, “You have to get out of here.”
“No one saw me come in.”
“It’s not safe.”
“I can take care of myself.”
“I’m not alone,” I grit out.
“I know.” He tilts his head toward the door. “Yan Ivanov is babysitting you.”
In the mirrors surrounding us, my eyes grow large. “How do you know? How did you find me?” Please tell me you didn’t follow me.
“I followed you.”
Shit. “Why?”
“I’m worried about you. Back in Budapest, you weren’t yourself. I wanted to make sure you were all right, and just as well I did.”
“Gergo, I’m serious. You have to go. If he finds you here—”
“He looked absorbed in whatever he was doing on his phone. He’s not going to come looking for you. We have a few minutes.”
“What if he’d seen you coming in here? I can’t believe you’d take such a risk.”
“I pushed a rail of clothes in front of the entrance to the changing area.”
Going on tiptoes, I peer over the door. A rail of clothes shoppers had tried on but not taken does indeed block the view. I look back at my ex-teammate. The judgment on his face makes me cringe. “It’s not what you think.”
“You’re living at his place. He brought you clothes shopping. What must I think?”
“I’m doing a job for him.”
“A job? You’re working for the Russians now?”
“Kind of.”
“They were going to kill you. You said you escaped. What are you hiding?”
“Nothing.”
“Fine.” He pulls a gun from his waistband. “In that case, I’ll just take him out now. He won’t even see it coming.”
At the sight of the weapon, my heart slams into my ribs. The idea of anything happening to Yan makes my palms sweat and my temples throb with my quickening pulse. I don’t stop to analyze these symptoms. If anything, I should encourage Gergo to carry out his threat. Instead, I grab his arm again and whisper-shout, “No.”
He stills, but he doesn’t put the gun away. “Is he blackmailing you?”
I rub my neck, my fingers playing over the small bump in my nape. “It’s complicated. I don’t want to get you involved.”
“I’m already involved.” He lowers his head to put us on eye level. “Talk to me, Mink. I want to help you.”
“Gergo, please. I beg you. Just go.”
“I’m not going anywhere until you talk to me.”
I’m getting increasingly nervous. If Yan decides to check on me, one of them will definitely end up dead. “I can’t. Please, Gergo. I just can’t.”
Hurt spills into his eyes. “Don’t you trust me?”
“What? No! You know I do.”
“Then what’s the issue, sweetheart? Why won’t you let me help you?”
Groaning, I spear my fingers through my hair. “You have to go. Now! He’ll come looking for me. I’ve taken too long already.”
He tucks the gun back into his belt and grips my shoulders. “Go out, parade for him, then come back in here and tell me what the hell is going on.”
“I can handle myself.” My harsh tone is meant to chase him away. “I don’t need you to save me.”
Gergo isn’t deterred. He turns me to the door, unlocks it, and all but pushes me out.
It takes a moment to find my bearings and put my mask in place, but I was worried for nothing. When I get back to the waiting area where wealthy men sip vodka on the house while their women spend their money, Yan is still reading something on his phone, his attention definitely elsewhere.
I clear my throat, and he lifts his head. The look in his eyes makes me shiver. It’s hateful and cold, nothing like the heat he shows me in bed. It’s a view into the part of him that grew up in the streets, committing acts to survive nobody should ever have to. But as he drags his gaze over me, the cold-hearted, cruel gleam disappears, the dangerous, soulless man I glimpsed replaced with my calculated assassin and skilled lover.
The calculated part approves of my look. It says I’ll pull off the part of Natasha Petrova. The lover who claims he owns me doesn’t like how much skin I’m flaunting. He frowns as he focuses on the low neckline and short hem.
“It’s two sizes too big.” God, I hope I sound normal. “It’ll fit tighter with the body pads.”
With his ankle resting on his knee and his thumb playing over his lips, Yan studies me quietly. The s
econds tick on. What is going on in his mind? Why is he acting like this? Did whatever it was that distracted him earlier upset him? Maybe it’s work. Or has he spotted Gergo? I’m holding my breath, praying the morning won’t go down in bloodshed while clinging desperately to my poker face, but as always, he sees right through me.
Even as he speaks with a soft voice, his eyes are like hard, polished jade stone. “What’s wrong?”
I laugh with forced casualness. “Nothing.”
“Don’t fucking lie to me.”
“I’m not.”
He stands so abruptly I give a start.
In two strides, he’s in front of me. Gripping my hip, he brushes his thumb over my hipbone. The caress is gentle but intense. Possessive.
“I asked you a question, Mina.”
It’s impossible to hide my fear from him. He sees everything he wants to see. He sees the truth. Giving in to the apprehension, I sag in his hold. “You’re acting weird.”
He considers my answer for a moment, his gaze drilling into mine. “Do I scare you?”
“Sometimes,” I whisper.
He nods, his expression softening. “I’m not going to hurt you, not unless you give me a reason.”
“A reason?” I swallow. “What would be a reason?”
“Running from me again.”
“I’m not going to run again.”
“I know it’s unpleasant for you, so I won’t remind you of the consequences of running.”
He’s right. I can’t bear to think of Hanna getting hurt because of me.
Suddenly, his face goes blank. It’s as if a switch flips. Putting a step between us, he drops his hand. “Go change.”
I nearly trip in my hurry to get away. Before skirting the rail that still blocks the passage, I glance back, but he’s already sitting again, his head bent over his phone.
I slip into the cubicle to find Gergo poised on the bench, his knees pulled up so anyone walking past wouldn’t spot his shoes from under the door.
He pulls me deeper inside and turns the lock. “Talk.”
Another argument will only waste time. He won’t let it go. I hesitate, but then make up my mind. I trust Gergo with my life. Taking a deep breath, I say, “For some reason, Yan has taken an interest in me.”