It was crazy thinking, yet it brought an odd sort of comfort.
After dinner, they danced to reggae and calypso. She kissed him while standing in the middle of locals and tourists bustling about, some walking around them and others whistling. They kept it chaste as children were around.
Three hours.
Proudly, he made it three hours before he leaned down near her ear and said, in a voice he could almost feel, "I need you."
They found the first cab back.
She all but climbed on top of him on the backseat, hands cradling both sides of his jaw while he probed her mouth with his tongue and gripped the soft swells of her ass. The cab driver muttered a half-hearted dissent, but then he spent the rest of the drive peering at them from the rearview mirror.
Dom left the man all the cash he had in his pocket, swept Eija up into his arms, and headed to her room. If they'd had to go to his suite all the way on the other side of the resort, he would have ended up fucking her in the bushes.
Half his buttons were undone by the time he kicked in her door.
It snapped shut behind them.
He pulled her top over her head and fully acquainted his teeth, lips, tongue, and mouth with those breasts. They were soft, full, and made for sucking, her nipples made for pleasure. Each bite trapped a shaky breath in her throat. He slipped one hand into her panties and stroked her clit while his mouth on her breasts yanked tortured cries from her throat.
"Andrei..." She gripped his shoulders, hips moving in a similar motion to how she'd danced earlier in the evening. "How am I...how am I coming already?"
Because they'd been putting this off for two weeks. He didn't know how he wasn't.
A soft cry left her lips. His fingers grew wetter between her legs, and she shuddered, her chest pushing high.
He brought his fingers to his mouth. Then, she reached for him, pulled his mouth to hers, and kissed him until the skin on his lips threatened to bruise. They were still in the small entryway, so he walked them backward toward the bed.
Eija tore at his shirt, popping buttons with a sexy little grunt, tugged off his belt, and tossed it. He didn't know how his mind functioned well enough to remember the zipper at the back of her pants, but he dragged them down, and as she stepped out of the pants, he crouched and tore her panties off with his teeth.
It was easy.
They were lace and string.
But he heard her whisper a quiet, "Oh my God," before he helped himself to a mouthful of her pussy.
"Why are you like this?" she asked, part moan and part whisper.
"Like," he swept his tongue from her clit to her entrance and back, "what?"
“A pussy monster.”
He laughed, and a smile broke out on her beautiful face. The smile morphed into a grimace when he slipped his tongue inside her.
It wouldn't be his first time between a woman's legs, and it wouldn't be his last, but Eija was something different. She was something new. He'd never experienced wanting to come from sucking a woman's clit alone. Tiny drops of moisture spilled from the tip of his dick each time his lips wrapped around the slick bud.
"Andrei..." She gripped his shoulder. "Fuck, Andrei.”
She raised her right leg and lost her balance, but he caught her before she fell.
"I've got you weak in the knees?" he teased, carrying her over to the bed.
"Arrogant much?"
“Did you not just now need my rescue?”
He set her on the bed and dove right back between her legs, enjoying the way she squirmed and cursed at him. She was smooth down below, her clit firm as his tongue met the tip over and over. He slid two fingers inside her, and her pussy sucked them the rest of the way in.
Jesus.
More moisture spilled from his head, and he slid his hand inside his jeans to grip the base of his dick, stroking the hot, angry length while he feasted on Eija.
Each flick of his tongue and thrust of his fingers forced her hips up off the mattress, and she clutched his hair, moaning and crying out his name until she came a second time, bucking and arching, creaming against his lips and chin.
“Eija,” he licked his lips, “we're doing this again.”
"Uh-huh, baby, but please,” she motioned for him to come to her, “fuck me. Now."
His dick twitched.
He discarded his jeans and underwear and fumbled through slipping on a condom, harder than a fucking glacier. She watched him the entire time, and when he was ready for her, she spread her legs wide, baring her glistening sex. He almost went down on her a third time, but his dick would probably find a gun and shoot him if he did.
He climbed over her and pushed his way home.
Home.
His father always said there was no home like Russia.
That was a fucking lie.
He had more inches than Eija had depth, but he sank into her as if he could completely lose himself inside her body. He told himself to go slow, but she'd fucked with his head. The entire time they were together, this was what they'd both wanted. It was what they'd pretended they could put off, so now that they were here, he couldn't fuck her easily. He couldn't fuck her quickly. His mind was gone and had been since their first date in St. Georges. Now, she was going to have to take this dick straight.
Eija's fingers slid along the sheets, searching for a grip. Finding none, she reached for Andrei, needing to sink her fingernails into his skin. She needed to lick, suck, and bite his neck, brand him so, no matter how hard he tried, she would never completely disappear from his memories.
He moved just out of her reach of her arms, pulled out, and cupped her knees to spread her legs wider. Then he entered her again, burying deep inside her before again pulling out, this time leaving only the thick head of his dick just inside. Of all the torture techniques she'd used and seen used in her line of work, this was the one that would have her giving up international secrets.
"Andrei, don’t tease me."
He surged forward. She sucked her bottom lip and looked down at where their bodies met. She then let her gaze trail up over his hard abs and defined chest, ending at that face of his, those eyes.
Of course, he'd be smiling.
It was one thing to fuck a good-looking man. It was another thing entirely to fuck this good-looking man.
"Faster, Andrei." She rolled her hips, but his hands on her knees kept her in place. "Don't do this to me, baby."
Their bodies completely separated, and he bent, drawing a long lick over her clit before he entered her again. Over and over, he sank deep until she was so full with him, each time she tried to cry out, only air left her throat. He thrust so hard the wet sounds of their bodies fitting together rose above the din of the air conditioner.
A steady pace like this, along with his wicked tongue, wrenched the third climax from her. It was the only way to describe it, a feeling that started somewhere deep inside her that grew tighter and tighter until she exploded.
And she screamed.
She never screamed.
"Didn't peg you for a screamer," he said, restraint sharpening his voice.
"Neither did I." She motioned to him. "Come here."
Their bodies remained connected as he hovered over her, his fallen hair creating a canopy around their faces. She locked her ankles behind his back and angled her hips, and the very next stroke right after she did made his eyes roll back in his head.
Good.
He deserved it for not telling her what he was capable of.
She kissed his jaw. "God, you're so attractive."
"You think?" he asked, eyes searching hers.
"Yes. You’re the most attractive man out of the four-hundred thousand I've had the pleasure of sleeping with."
He rolled his eyes. “I’m already inside you. All that means is that I’m four-hundred thousand and one.”
She laughed and threaded her fingers through his hair.
"Eija, run away with me."
The majority of s
cars he possessed he'd gotten from his "rougher" younger years, which was how he'd put it. Most were now hidden by tattoos, but she could still feel them. She could still feel them and bend her body to kiss one on his shoulder and the one he'd shown her on his neck. Whenever her lips connected with his skin, his eyelids shut.
"Where?" she asked.
“Panama.” He buried himself deep, waited a beat, pulled out. "Antarctica. Neptune."
She licked along the scar on his neck and kissed the marbled skin. “Okay."
He groaned a quiet, “Fuck,” and drove into her so hard, she slid on the sheets. If his dick was the thief, her climax was the priceless, forbidden jewel. Each stroke took and took, no matter how much she tried to rein it in or restrain the feeling so it lasted long into the night. They wouldn't make it that far; he was so hard, he would explode soon, and she waited for it like a birthday present.
An unexpected yet sweet, hot climax burst through her body, ripping her in two. She fell back, letting it take her, warmth and pleasure winding together.
Andrei pulled out, breathing hard, his sweat dripping onto her breasts. After a few seconds, he entered her again, thrust his hips and pulled out a second time.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck."
She reached between them and guided him back inside her. "Might as well keep going,” she urged. “This is a battle you won't win."
"You feel so good, I'd planned to stay a little longer."
"Don't hold out, Andrei."
He groaned.
"You want to come." She licked sweat from his neck. "You need to come all up inside this pussy. Tonight, right now, it’s all yours."
He crashed his hips into hers.
"Come for me, Andrei." Her tongue flicked his chin. "Let me feel you come inside me."
After a few more hard strokes, he succumbed to his release, rewarding her with a deep groan and quiet curses of defeat. God, she loved the sound of a man climaxing.
She locked him in on top of her, not caring about his weight, and he took in snatches of air while kissing the space between her breasts.
"So, was it worth the wait?" she asked.
"Yes." He looked up. "It was worth its ‘wait’ in gold.”
“Oh my God.”
“You liked that one, didn’t you?”
“Not even a little bit.”
She liked him. She honestly, truly liked him, and it was a shame that it was at this point in her life she felt something for someone that didn’t solely come from the organ between her legs.
"I've never had fun with someone the way I've had fun with you,” she confessed.
"I was thinking the same thing.” He brushed his lips over the inside rise of her right breast. “Feels like we've known each other longer."
"Can you stay tonight?”
A smile lit up his face, handsome, flirtatious, and innocent all at the same time.
He nodded once.
She wanted to wake up in his arms, see what he looked like in bed next to her, wrapped in her puffy white sheets with his silky hair all over her pillow. And she wanted to make love to him again, a few times, at least once in the daylight so she could watch his face as he came. Because by one o'clock tomorrow, she'd be on a flight to France, and she and Andrei Falcone would never, ever, see each other again.
Chapter 4
Dom woke up to Eija’s warm body snuggled against his. It was the middle of the night, so they only had moonlight for illumination, but she’d kept the curtains drawn so it filtered unimpeded through the glass onto them.
Onto her.
Moonlit Eija, he decided, had to be just as exquisite as Eija in the morning sun—something he would prove in a few hours. The silver glow against the white sheets emphasized the curves of her silhouette. One of her breasts poked from the top of the covers, and he reached out, gently rolling her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. She didn’t stir, so he leaned forward, lips headed for her neck. A deep voice rang out, and the person spoke in Russian.
“Hello, Prince.”
He took a moment to push down his irritation and looked up, barely making out a man’s face, light brown hair, and dark eyes. The man had made no attempt to whisper, so Dom slid his hand, still beneath the covers, down to Eija’s stomach. Thankfully, she was breathing.
“You have a name?” Dom asked, covering her up to her chin.
“I’m called Fadd.”
“Yuri sent you?”
“Yes. It’s time for the prodigal son to return home.”
Dom glanced behind Fadd’s head where a shadow played along the glass sliding door, revealing a second intruder in the kitchen. Whether or not the two unwelcome guests realized it, their deaths were marked. Yuri letting them know Dominik Sokolov was his son was code—only a tight few had the privilege, and these two were definitely not part of Yuri’s inner circle. Not even Yuri’s daughters knew the “cousin” they’d met, only a few times, was really their half-brother.
Dom ticked his head back toward the kitchen. “What’s your friend’s name?”
Surprise moved over Fadd’s face.
“Kuz.”
“Did you drug her?”
Fadd flicked his wrist. “She’ll be fine in the morning. Yuri said killing her would only make you belligerent.”
One of the few true things Yuri knew about him.
Dom searched the side of the bed for his underwear and tugged them on, followed by his jeans. As he played with the button at the waist, he searched the floor for the rest of his clothes.
“By the door.” Fadd smirked all the way up to his eyes. “Looks like you had a good night.”
“Step outside to give me a minute.”
“Is she for sharing?” Kuz asked.
Dom glared at him. “Ask me that again.”
“I was just curious. From here,” Kuz raised his nose in the air, “her pussy smells divine.”
“Out.”
Both men left.
Dom moved about the room, dressing with each article of clothing he found. Eija had destroyed the buttons on his shirt, so he left it open.
This wasn’t how he’d wanted their time together to come to an end, him sneaking away in the middle of the night after making love to her. He knew how it would look, but what choice did he have? The Bratva wasn’t a family from a nineties sitcom. If he didn’t go, Yuri would have Eija executed to prove a point, and she didn’t deserve to lose her life for being caught up in shit she knew nothing about.
He crouched next to the bed and pressed the last kiss he would ever give her to those lips of hers. He then searched the room, found a card with the hotel’s logo on the front, and wrote on the blank space at the back.
Eija,
I’m sorry to leave you like this. Thank you for the best two weeks I’ve ever had in my life. I wish we had more time. If we’d had more time, I would have been able to tell you, face to face, that my real name isn’t Andrei Falcone.
Don’t forget me.
Love, Dom
He set the card on the kitchen counter, took one last eyeful of her silhouette, and stepped out into the corridor where Kuz and Fadd waited, passing a cigarette between them.
The men tailed him to the end of the hallway, and just as Fadd began to relay where they were headed, Dom grabbed Fadd’s pistol and released two slugs in Kuz’s chest. The shots forced Kuz up against the opposite wall of the corridor where he slumped, twitching until he was motionless.
Fadd lowered to his knees, arms raised. Behind them, someone called out.
A familiar someone.
“Just as impressive as the day you left,” Yuri said, walking toward them.
Dom faced his father. It was funny how much they didn’t look alike; he’d gotten all of his mother’s darker features. Yuri, before his entire head had gone silver, had sported blond hair. His eyes remained golden brown, irises surrounded by dark rings that drew attention to the shallowness of his pupils. Endless, shallow pupils.
Yuri snapped.
&
nbsp; On command, Pavel Volkov, Yuri’s right-hand man, released two shots into Fadd’s chest.
“Do we need to clean any messes in the woman’s room?” Yuri asked.
Dom handed the gun to Pavel. “Stay far away from the woman’s room.”
They headed to the front of the resort, not a soul outside. Yuri had more than likely had the resort grounds cleared in preparation for his arrival, and it wasn’t the first time Dom realized just how far Yuri’s influence carried. It had been difficult remaining under the radar all these years outside of Russia, though not impossible.
Once they were inside one of the many cars that lined the front of the resort, Yuri spoke again.
“Do you love her?”
Dom leaned back against the seat. “No.”
“Who is she?”
“Doesn’t concern you.”
“Pretty?”
Dom closed his eyes, said nothing.
Yuri, smiling, tapped on the window, and the car pulled off.
Chapter 5
Eija sensed the emptiness before she turned around to visually confirm it. Still, she didn’t want to jump to conclusions, and she ignored the way it felt like a winged hippopotamus flopped around in her chest.
“Andrei?” She sat up, slightly groggy from a night of amazing sex, the covers pooled around her. “Andrei, are you in the bathroom?”
The hippopotamus plumped up another few thousand pounds and grew a trunk and floppy ears. By the time she’d pulled on a robe and checked every nook and cranny of the bathroom, living area, and balcony, she could no longer lie to herself. Pain. It was pain she felt. Pain she’d tried, for years, to avoid feeling, but she should have seen this coming. He was too attractive. Too funny. With men like that, she was supposed to act, but she’d let up the curtain.
Because she liked him.
She’d already worked out in her head how their last day together would have gone—she’d tell him she’d gotten an emergency call and had to leave the island. Since she would be gone for a while, they would come to the mutual agreement that things would have to end there. After one last passionate romp, she’d go to the airport and never forget the time she’d spent with the incredible Mr. Andrei Falcone.
Prince of the Brotherhood: A Mafia Romance Page 4