She uses Silver’s arousal to lubricate the rubber shaft, then rocks her hips against Silver’s pelvis, bottoming out with one sure thrust.
Buried up to the hilt, she feels resistance as the head of the cock hits Silver’s cervix, filling her completely, and she’s rewarded with an involuntary squeal of delight.
“Does that feel good?” Ria coaxes kisses from Silver’s lips, building up a steady rhythm. “It’s been a while since I’ve done this, so forgive me if I—”
Silver shushes her concerns with another kiss, groping her breasts for a while before forcing her down so that their bodies are pressed together, changing the angle of her thrust. In this new position, she grabs Ria’s ass and drives her a few precious millimeters deeper.
Enjoying the feeling of fullness, Silver rests like this for a minute or two, then starts to direct Ria’s pelvic movements. She grinds their hips together gently but firmly, stirring the dildo inside herself.
Ria’s trying to concentrate purely on Silver’s enjoyment, but she’s getting so much stimulation from his position—what with the bulb inside her, and the thick ridge in front of it that’s designed to rock against her clit with every thrust—it’s difficult to think clearly.
“Is this for your pleasure, or mine?” She gasps when Silver’s hips raise unexpectedly, crushing up into her as she bears down.
“Both.”
The next few minutes are filled with various pants and whines while they thrust and gyrate into and against one another until Ria can’t take it anymore.
“I’m nearly there.” She breathes heavily against Silver’s ear, scarcely able to speak.
Staying in tempo, Silver growls her approval. “I want you to come.”
That tips Ria over the edge.
At Silver’s command, she lets herself go, whimpering into the pillow beside Silver’s head—and Silver follows her into climax. Clutching at her ass and shoulders, she pulls them together one last time, their limbs becoming a tangle of sensual shudders and vibration.
Sated beyond belief, having had no less than four orgasms since they climbed into bed together, Ria collapses on Silver’s chest.
“I’m dying of happiness.” Her voice is muffled against the pillow.
Silver embraces her, content to lie like this for a while. “Ya tebya lyublyu.”
I love you.
Ria raises her tousled head, touched by Silver’s absorption of her second tongue.
“Ty takaya laskovaya.” She kisses her lover. “Ty lyubov’ moyey zhyzni, i ya khochu byt’ s toboy vsegda.”
Silver stares blankly at her. “I think you might be overestimating my proficiency.”
Giggling, Ria translates. “You’re so sweet. You’re the love of my life, and I want to be with you forever.”
For the briefest of moments, Ria fears her confession might’ve come off a little too strong, but she needn’t worry. Silver soon brings her into another kiss, the motion causing the toy embedded in them to move, reminding them that they’re still locked together.
“Mmm.” Silver tugs Ria tight, burying all eight inches of the dildo.
“Snova?” Ria grins. “Again?”
“How about the other way round this time?”
They barely have a chance to get uncoupled before a sharp knock at the door brings reality crashing back to the loved-up pair.
“Who is it?” Ria calls out, already knowing what to expect.
“Myshka,” a hen squawks from the other side. “The Arch Rogue’s back.”
Ria flashes Silver a look of sheer panic, pleading for there to be another way. “I’m scared, Silver.”
“I know, but you have to trust me.”
“What if this doesn’t work?”
“It will.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Ria—with everything between her legs tingling from her energetic and enthusiastic lovemaking with Silver—is ushered into Luther’s bedroom by two armed men and told she has five minutes to get ready. That’s five minutes to calm herself, lower her heart rate, and stop her hands from shaking.
Fat chance.
In preparation for the reunion of captor and whore, the room has been cleaned and dressed by one of the maids. The four-poster bed is adorned with freshly laundered silk sheets, and a bottle of lubricant is set on the bedside table alongside a sizable dildo. Sometimes, he likes to watch her play with herself before or after they have intercourse.
She adjusts her breasts in her bodice and flattens some creases out of the lacy ruffles in her skirt. Having dressed in a hurry, she hadn’t bothered to check her appearance in a mirror. Does she look like she’s just been fucked? Too late to do anything about it now.
Thieving a grape from a bowl of fruit on a table beside the balcony, she casts open the doors and steps outside, inhaling a shallow breath of pre-rainfall air, another storm lingering on the horizon. Her bodice is so tight her lungs are only able to expand to a third of their normal capacity. Or maybe it’s nerves.
She wishes the storm would break. She wishes the dark, pendulous clouds would open up and spill their burdens, unleashing a fury onto the earth. In the distance, the first low rumble of heavenly discontent cascades across the sky, the preceding flash of lightning almost completely obscured by the heavy cloud cover.
Right now, she should be fingering herself on the bed, getting herself warm for Luther. Instead, she’s leaning against the balcony railing, listening for sounds, hoping Silver can follow her directions.
She needn’t worry. A few seconds later, there’s a scuffle of boots against stonework, and Silver swings onto Luther’s balcony from the balcony above.
“Piece of cake.” She dusts off her hands.
Ria barrels into her arms, hugging tightly, spewing a long stream of seamless Russian that comes out so fast Silver can’t tell where one word ends and another begins. She only manages to pick out a few words in the jumble: love, darling, need, want, please, please, please, happy, forever. No matter the meaning of all the words in between, it all adds up to one simple thing: fright.
“You’re panicking.” Silver caresses her waist and hips, inhaling the sweet scents of her shampoo, her perfume, and their combined sex. “There’s no need to panic. I’ll be with you the whole time.”
Ria forces a smile, dodging the issue at hand. “I’m so grateful to Argo.” She runs her hands down Silver’s arms, feeling the crisp cotton shirt and the firm muscles beneath it. “If it weren’t for his actions last time I was here, you and I would never have met.”
“Are you deflecting?” Silver grasps her restless hands. “Vsye budet khorosho.” She kisses her fingers. “I promise.”
Ria can’t help but be comforted by the words, falling off Silver’s tongue with an ease and inflection that’s becoming almost native, even though the promise itself—that everything will be all right—is one that it’s impossible for her to make.
“You’re a darling.” Ria cuddles against her. “I hope you’re right.”
“I’m your darling.” Silver gives her a kiss of encouragement. “Don’t be afraid.”
“You promise you’ll be right there with me?” A hint of anxiety returns.
“Konechno.” Of course.
Ria blushes. “Do you remember everything I say to you?”
“I try.”
“Well, you’re doing very well.” She kisses Silver’s neck, fondling her breasts over her clothes. “Need I remind you that your attentiveness is so very seductive? I can’t wait to take you home with me.”
“That’s why we’re here,” Silver reminds her, lifting her gaze. “That, and payback for your father.”
“My father?” A faint crease of confusion sweeps across Ria’s brow.
“Luther lied and denied you help.” Silver cups her cheeks. “If you need courage, find it in knowing that this is no less than what he deserves.”
Ria half nods, failing to completely commit to it. “He’ll be here soon.”
“So come on, then.�
�� Silver urges her inside. “Put me where you want me.” She looks around the lavish bedroom, pulling Cutler’s gun from its holster. “And take this.” She holds it out. “You said you know how to use one of these, right?”
More nodding.
“Good.” She slips the gun inside a pile of fresh towels on the dresser. “It’s here if you need it. I want you to feel safe.”
“It’s you who makes me feel safe, not the gun.” Ria shows her into the adjoining bathroom. “Listen for your cue.”
She closes the door just in time, turning to find the bedroom door opening and Luther breezing through it.
In his late thirties, he’s still youthful enough to be dashing, his dark hair thick and gelled firmly into place, his beard and moustache well-groomed. Like so many men of means, he’s wearing a tailored suit, complete with waistcoat and silk puff tie.
Tall and muscular, he’s the type of man many women would trip over their own feet to get near—but not Ria. She doesn’t care how much he can bench press, or how many consecutive push-ups he can do. His manliness does nothing for her libido, and she remains frozen in place, the sight of him striking no small amount of dread into her.
Disarming himself, as per his usual routine, he stashes his weapons in a locked safe beside the bed and sheds his jacket before showering her with attention.
“Ty takaya krasivaya, my dear Myshka,” he compliments her beauty, running his hands over her shoulders. “I’ve missed you a great deal.” His hot hands suddenly grasp her neck, tilting her head up, bringing his lips to her ear. “I’ve missed your tight little snatch.”
His hands are so big they completely encircle her neck, fingers overlapping, his thumbs pressed against her throat. Watching through a crack in the door, Silver’s all too aware of how easily he could snap her cervical vertebrae, or crush her hyoid bone and choke her to death. The balance of power is too much in his favor.
“Tell me you want me, Myshka.” He moves his thumbs up to her jaw, his hands below her ears, keeping her head angled upward. “Tell me you need to fuck.”
Ria can hardly swallow, her head contorted awkwardly. “I want to—”
“In Russian.” He reprimands her by tightening his grip and depriving her of air. “Speak to me in your own tongue.”
He still finds her exotic. For the first few months of her captivity, she could get away with slinging insults at him as long as she purred them out like lustful advances.
You’re a pathetic little cocksucker.
I wish I’d never met you.
Your dick is small and strangely shaped.
I want to kill you.
But her sly fun didn’t last. He soon taught himself enough Russian to know when she was being disrespectful, and would punish her with violence, or by forcing her to perform degrading sexual acts that caused her pain.
With that in mind, she struggles to draw breath and please him. “Ya khochu tvoy khuy,” she compels herself to say, injecting no emotion whatsoever into the ugly words. “Seychas.”
I want your dick. Now.
That seems to suffice for the time being, and he relaxes his grip, letting her hands find his belt and the zipper of his trousers. Ria knows she has to get him undressed; she has to make him vulnerable.
Despite feeling bile rise into the back of her throat, she gets down on her knees, tugging his trousers and underwear down, releasing what she expects to be an already rigid—and very modest—six and a half inches of cock. Instead, she’s slapped in the face with a ten-inch monster.
His hard dick springs out of his undies and sticks straight out, the moist tip leaving a trail of pre-ejaculatory fluid on her cheek.
Uck! She yelps with fright, moving away a short distance to glare at the enormous, purple, mushroom-shaped head atop the repulsive, veiny rod.
“Surprise!” He grins proudly, his eyes shimmering with violet flecks.
The altered hue of his irises reminds Ria that he’s activated—he can certainly afford it—but that doesn’t explain how he’s gained almost four inches of manhood.
“I … I … don’t understand,” she stammers, terrified by the thing in front of her.
“Male enhancement.” He kicks off his trousers and moves onto the bed. “Isn’t the progression of science wonderful?”
Ria stands up, backing away slowly. “You paid someone to manipulate the effects of the virus to make your dick bigger?”
“I know what you’re thinking.” He leans back on his elbows, tensing his pelvic muscles to make his erection twitch. “How selfless of me.”
Ria grimaces and stumbles into the dresser, knocking the stack of towels.
Cutler’s gun!
“You told me the virus couldn’t be altered,” she says, slipping her hand between two fluffy bundles. “You lied to me.”
“It’s an experimental procedure, and it requires hacking into the CPS network—a dangerous business.” He begins unbuttoning his shirt. “Why? What do you want? Bigger tits? A new hymen? We can work on that next.”
“All I want is the truth.” Ria slips her fingers around the gun and pulls it out, quickly turning it on him. “Why did you let my father die?”
Luther hesitates, his hairy chest partially exposed, his eyes fixed on the weapon, having never seen one in her hands before, finding the sight of it unexpectedly stimulating.
“Myshka …” He sounds disapproving, not at all afraid.
“Truth,” Ria demands, shaking the gun at him. “No more shit.”
“I didn’t let him die.” Luther seizes the base of his cock in his hand, determined to keep it at full mast until this little spat passes. “He had cancer.”
“But you could’ve cured him.”
“Kroshka moya …” He tries to appease her with a tender endearment, unwilling to concede that intimacy might be delayed. “I didn’t have access to—”
“Don’t ‘baby’ me,” Ria snarls, keeping the gun aimed. “If not the viral manipulation, then what about Cutler? You told me he wasn’t infectious. You said the black market virus couldn’t be transmitted.”
“It can’t.” Luther takes a deep sigh, his whore pipe deflating, despite the valiant attempt to prevent it from doing so. “Why are these angry words back on your tongue?”
“Because you’re a liar! I’ve seen it for myself.” She tears up, her vision blurring, her aim wavering. “You could’ve saved my father! You chose not to.”
“This is nonsense, Myshka.” Luther massages his brow, unfazed by the deadly weapon not six feet in front of him. “He couldn’t be helped.”
“I don’t believe anything you say.” Ria shakes her head, refusing to listen. “Why should I? You’ll spin any tale to get your end away.”
“Don’t push me, Myshka. I will have you tonight, whether you’re feeling in an amiable mood or not. I don’t need to toss you any kind words.” His voice takes on a sharp edge, losing patience with his best girl. “That being said, it wasn’t horseshit. Cutler can’t infect anyone who’s already been infected with the human betterment package—the nanites override it.”
He can see that Ria’s digesting this new information, weighing up the truth of his words.
“How do you know all of this anyway?” He leans forward, scrutinizing her. “Who else have you seen infected with his strain?”
Silver’s so taken with the vision of power and femininity standing in front of her—Ria, all stockings and lace, a loaded gun in her hands—a moment passes before she realizes this is her cue to make her presence known.
“Me.” She steps into his periphery from the bathroom behind him, Cutler’s knife in her hand. “The beautiful Russian is referring to me.”
“And who the hell are you?” Luther covers his now wilted dick with a pillow. “How did you get in here?!” He looks around, checking to make sure there aren’t any more strange people lurking in his private bathroom.
“Ria let me in,” Silver gloats. “I think she might like me.”
“Idi syuda,
milaya,” Ria implores, beckoning to Silver to convey her meaning: come here, my darling. “Pozhaluysta.”
“You know this woman?!” Luther shoots daggers at his disloyal tart.
“She’s my woman,” Ria answers assuredly.
“Oh, aye?” Luther’s becoming disinterested. “And what is it you want? Permission to keep her as a pet? Permission to fuck her?”
“I’ve already fucked her,” she says rebelliously, purely to irk him.
Luther makes a tiny mental leap and grins at Silver, blood rushing back between his legs, his cock pushing against the pillow in his lap. “Are you in love with my whore?”
“It’s mutual, and I’m not leaving this house without her.” Silver twirls Cutler’s knife in her hands, making a silent threat. “I’m taking her home to London.”
“How gallant.” He slaps both hands over his chest. “You’re tugging at my heart strings, you really are. The trouble is: you’re an insignificant little woman, and I’m Luther fucking Hale. I don’t see how any of this is gonna work out in your favor, do you?”
Silver shrugs. “I don’t see it being much of a problem.” She points the tip of the knife at the gun. “Ria’s got a loaded weapon in her hands, and the only thing you’re armed with is that chubby snake between your legs.”
“And it could go off at any minute.” Enjoying himself far too much, Luther sneaks a hand beneath the pillow, beginning to stroke the upright beast while he eyes Ria’s cleavage. “She’s extraordinary, isn’t she? I think I fell in love with her after she sucked me off for the first time.”
“Stop it!” Ria steps closer, finger on the trigger.
“Why? What’s the matter?” Luther taunts her. “Doesn’t she know how much cock you’ve taken?” He whips the pillow aside, grips his hard plug-tail, and shakes it at her.
“Zatknis’!” Ria yells at him. “Shut up!”
Afraid that she might actually put a bullet in him—the noise drawing attention from his armed guards who won’t be too far away—Silver eases Ria’s finger off the trigger, but doesn’t change her aim.
Lex Talionis Page 35