His Every Fantasy

by Delilah Devlin

  “Oh God,” she said, then let out a moan. “I’m so full, Sergei.”

  She was a snug fit, gloving him tightly. Such an exquisite sensation sliding into her slick depths, her walls caressing his shaft as he went deeper and deeper. “Fuck,” he said, his voice rasping. “I want this to last.”

  She gave him a squeeze, her pussy clenching hard around him, and her eyes widened in the mirror. “Don’t wait on my account,” she said, and then her jaw clenched.

  He worked himself in deeper, until his entire length was surrounded and his lower belly was flush against her bottom. “Don’t speak,” he said, warning her with a glare.

  A grin curved her mouth. “Will you lose it? Your control? Can I do that to you?”

  Deepening his glare, he shook his head, but she smiled as she wriggled her butt, pushing against him, squeezing around him, until he was nearly blind with desire. He let go of her breasts and dug his fingers into her fleshy bottom. “I should paddle you.”

  “And that will discourage me?”

  The waggle of her eyebrows made him growl. Blood pounding in his ears, he pulled out and pushed back inside, a sexy shove that crammed against her walls. Her smile slipped, replaced by a rounded O of her lush mouth. Again and again, he crammed inward, quickening his deep, hard thrusts, watching her pretty breasts quiver and shake.

  He loved the picture they made. Loved the way her slick heat gloved him. Adored the pout of her reddened mouth as she kept her gaze locked with his, despite the quickening of his movements. Her channel rippled, giving his shaft a sexy, hot massage. And more hot liquid spilled to ease his strokes.

  “You were made for this. Made for me,” he ground out, his buttocks tight, his balls clenching as he drove into her.

  “Sergei,” she said, her voice rising in a whine.

  “Tell me, baby.”

  “Make me come. I’m so hot. Burning up,” she gasped, her eyes closing at last as she rested her cheek against the counter.

  Sergei pulled free and ignored the low epithet she murmured. Almost smiled at her heated glare. He sat on the closed toilet and patted his thighs.

  Without hesitating, she climbed over him, her hands gripping his shoulders hard as she spread her legs wide, feet flat on the ground, and slid down his cock, taking him. And then she was the one in charge. The one setting the pace, rising and falling, her hair billowing around her shoulders, strands sticking to her sweaty skin.

  Sweet Jesus. He glanced down to watch as his cock disappeared with every downward lunge. He placed his palms on her spread thighs and flattened his thumbs against her outer labia, stretching them apart to better his view of her sex as she consumed him.

  Her breaths were harsh, gusting against his cheek, and he looked up to find her eyes glittering with unshed tears.

  His heart twisted in his chest. “Baby, slow down.”

  She shook her head. “Can’t,” she gasped.

  He gripped her hips and locked her against his own. “Stop,” he whispered. “Why are you crying? Are you hurting?”

  She let go of his shoulders and wiped tears from her eyes. “I’m not… sore.” Her hands covered her breasts and her face crumpled.

  A spear of pain shot through him and he swallowed hard. “Then what, baby? Remember, the truth.”

  She looked toward the ceiling and then gave a short, shaky laugh. “I don’t want this to end. I don’t want to go. Not yet.”

  Not ever, he thought, and then his chest tightened as he recognized the truth. He wasn’t alone in this. He was as much captured as she was. Falling. But that awareness didn’t seem to be a joyful revelation for her. “We’re far from done here, baby,” he said, his voice gruff.

  Her face screwed up and fresh tears wet her eyes. “Maybe we’re talking about different things,” she whispered with a shake of her head. “I’m sorry for blubbering.”

  Sergei wrapped his arms around her and held her against his chest. He kissed her temple, noting the way her body shivered, the fact her pussy was still clenched around him below. She deserved better than him. Someone without scars, inside or out.

  Someone less selfish. He tightened his hold. “I don’t want you to go either. And I’ve already told you, you’re stuck with me for the duration,” he said softly. “But you’ve been through so much. And this might not be real. I rescued you. This might be—”

  “I don’t feel this way just because you were the first man through the door,” she said, pushing back with her hands flattened on his chest.

  “I’m glad to hear it.” Her angry frown nearly made him smile; the expression made the pressure in his chest ease a fraction. He pushed back her hair and framed her face, and then looked into her eyes. “Baby, I care about you. You have to know that already. But maybe we’ve rushed things a bit…”

  “Do you think I’m falling for you because you’re the first man I fucked?”

  Elation swept through him, and he let the warmth spread for all of a second, before he squelched the emotion. It nearly killed him to state, “Let’s save the words for when you’re safe.”

  Some of the light in her eyes dimmed. “All right.” She swallowed hard and then jutted her chin. “I’m afraid we’ll have to start all over again,” she said, arching a brow and then glancing down to where their bodies were still joined.

  “Not quite,” he said, relieved she was back to challenging him again.

  They both had a lot to think about. He’d been down this path before, becoming enamored with the woman he was supposed to protect. He’d failed. Horrifically. This time, he’d hold just enough of himself apart to keep her safety the priority.

  Easier said than done when he was seven inches deep inside her. He threaded his fingers through her hair and pulled her close for a kiss. Their lips met, both unblinking as their mouths softened and latched.

  That quickly, the heat rose again. “I’d just as soon not finish this here,” he muttered, gesturing at the toilet.

  A smile stretched across her face. “And I’m tired of doing all the work.”

  He hugged her and stood, striding out of the bathroom and straight toward the bed.

  * * *

  Sergei left Kara soaking in a hot bath and made his way to the kitchen. She claimed she was too tired to eat, but he’d feed her anyway.

  Dressed only in jeans, he padded barefoot toward one of the Sub-Zeros.

  “You gonna give her pussy a rest?”

  Sergei slammed the door shut and gave Bear a hard glare.

  His friend’s arms were crossed over his massive chest, and his face was pulled into a bullish frown.

  “Not that the subject is any of your business, but yes, I plan to do just that.”

  Bear grunted. “She’s young, Serge. Maybe too young for you.”

  “Think I don’t know that?” He fought to keep his hands relaxed at his sides.

  “Just warning you. She might need space to figure out she’s not in love with you.”

  “And maybe she is,” he said, but the words tasted bitter.

  Bear blew out a breath. “We don’t want you getting in so deep you can’t swim out.”

  “Not worried about her?”

  “Like I said, she’s young. And you’re her first. She’ll heal quicker.”

  Sergei shook his head. “I can’t believe you’re giving me relationship advice.”

  Bear flashed a brief smile. “Me neither. I was just the first one in the kitchen.”

  “More coming?”

  “Maybe you should go hide.”

  Sergei laughed and then gave Bear another look. “Have you ever been in love?”

  His friend snorted. “In lust. Plenty of times. Had a girl or two I might have liked to keep past a night.” He shrugged. “Haven’t thought about it much. Didn’t think being in a relationship would ever work given what we do for a living. Not until—”

  “Tilly and Boone?”

  “Yeah.” Bear gave him another rare smile. “Makes you wonder what it might be like.
Having someone like that to come home to. Someone who doesn’t care if there’s blood under your fingernails.”

  Sergei thought about Kara’s reaction when she’d seen the blood smearing his hands after the raid. His stomach tightened. “Boone doesn’t get dirty much these days.”

  “We don’t have to either,” Bear said, his deep voice softening. “But I can’t imagine sitting on the sidelines. Been doing this too long.”

  He leaned back against the counter and rested his palms flat. “Think we’re all adrenaline junkies? That we can’t change?”

  “I think you have to find something, or someone, who gives you a bigger thrill.” Bear lifted a brow then turned away.

  For several moments, Sergei stood in the kitchen watching him leave. Bear was right—up to a point. He didn’t need bigger thrills. Although the thought that Kara might grow to love him, really love him, did make his heart rate kick up a notch. He didn’t need an adrenaline ride. He needed something gentler. Something as sweet and calming as watching her smile made him feel as though the world was a better place than the one he’d inhabited for so many years. She had the power to make him believe again.

  “Finally, you let that poor girl alone.”

  “Enough,” Sergei groaned, turning to face a grinning Linc. “Butt out. I’ll give her a rest already. Did you all plan this intervention?”

  “Just makin’ sure you know we’re watching,” Linc said, forking his fingers and pointing at his eyes and then at Sergei.

  “With friends like you…”

  Linc walked up beside him and patted his shoulder. “Gotta make sure you don’t give the rest of us a bad rep. You’ve been all over that poor girl.”

  Sergei raised a hand to cut him off. “Enough.”

  Linc grunted. “Cook left roast beef sandwiches in the fridge for you two. Figured you’d be hungry after you f—”

  Sergei gave him a deadly glare.

  “You let her flash her ass.” Linc raised his hands. “We’re all involved now.”

  Sergei jerked open the refrigerator, found the baggie with the prepared sandwiches, and grabbed a couple of bottles of water. “Show’s over. I’ll feed her and let her rest.”

  “You do that,” Linc said, chuckling as he left.

  “With friends like these…” Sergei placed the sandwiches on a plate and quickly left the kitchen.

  At the top of the stairs, he was met by Boone who curled his fingers for him to follow.

  “I’ve already had an earful from Linc and Bear.”

  “This isn’t about your love life,” Boone shot over his shoulder. “We’ve got bigger problems.”

  Sergei sighed, fighting to hide the disappointment he felt. “Let me drop the food in the room. I’ll be right there.”

  “Don’t bother,” Tilly said, stepping out of the security room and holding out her hands. “I’ll deliver it.”

  Sergei surrendered the sandwiches and one of the bottles to Tilly. Spotting her quick, guarded look, Sergei knew he wouldn’t like what he was about to hear.

  * * *

  Feeling more herself, relaxed and over her bout of the weepies, Kara tied her robe and let herself back into the bedroom. Her eyes widened at finding Tilly seated on the mattress. A quick glance told her Sergei hadn’t returned.

  Tilly was still dressed as she had been for dinner, but was shoeless, her feet tucked up to the side as she eyed Kara. “Sergei’s gonna be a while.”

  “Anything I should be worried about?”

  Tilly gave her a small smile. “I brought you something to eat,” she said, pointing at two sandwiches sitting on a dinner plate.

  Kara’s stomach rumbled. She hadn’t missed the fact Tilly hadn’t said there wasn’t anything to worry about. But she’d put her trust in these people, and especially Sergei, so she’d let them tell her in their own time. “How nice of you.”

  “Serge thought of it; I’m just the delivery girl.”

  “Well, thank you.” Kara took the plate to the armchair beside the French door. She set down the plate and then peeked through the curtains. Outside, rain fell, but the lightning show had ended. “Do you know how long it’s going to rain?”

  “Storm’s coming in from the Gulf. We could be in for a wet couple of days.”

  “We don’t have to talk about the weather.” Kara glanced back at Tilly, guessing the other woman had something on her mind.

  “This is awkward,” Tilly said with a little laugh. “But Sergei’s a good friend. I’d like to know your intentions.”

  Kara raised her brows. “Seriously? My intentions?”

  Tilly shrugged. “I have a brother, but we never talk about things like this. These guys, Boone’s team, well, they’re like family to me now. We watch out for each other. And of all the guys, Serge’s the most… vulnerable.”

  “Again, seriously?”

  Tilly’s smile was rueful. “Hard to believe, as big as he is, I know. But he’s wearin’ his heart on his sleeve. We’ve all seen the way he is with you. He’s been hurt before. Boone says years passed before he got over what happened.”

  “Sergei told me about the girl in Afghanistan.”

  “He did?” Tilly’s eyes shot wide. “Huh.”

  Kara slowly tore her sandwich in half, but left both parts on her plate. She’d never had another woman as a confidante. The idea of confiding in Tilly was tempting, but Tilly was here for Sergei, not her. “The emotions got a little heavy between us. He told me to save whatever I’m feeling for when this is over.”

  Tilly nodded. “Not bad advice, but he’s probably sayin’ it because he’s afraid you’ll change your mind.”

  “Maybe he’s afraid he’ll change his.”

  Tilly’s gaze sharpened and she leaned forward. “Are you in love with him?”

  “I scarcely know him…”

  Tilly shook her head. “I barely knew Boone when I fell for him. Hell, he had me the first time he touched me.”

  The backs of Kara’s eyes burned and she looked away. She nodded, afraid her voice would crack. Hearing that Tilly had also found love in the midst of her own terror made Kara hopeful for her situation with Sergei.

  Tilly’s sigh was loud. From the corner of her eye, Kara watched as the other woman swung her legs off the bed and stood, and then strode over to her. Tilly bent and kissed her cheek. “You eat up. Serge won’t be happy if you go hungry.”

  Again, Kara nodded and sniffed. “I can’t finish both.”

  Tilly reached past her and picked up the second sandwich. “I’ll make sure he gets this.”

  As she heard Tilly’s footsteps pad away, Kara slumped in her chair. She was in love with Sergei, and now two people knew it. Maybe all of them, if anyone was watching the camera feed. So much for guarding her heart.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Sergei wasn’t surprised that the rest of their inner circle waited inside Boone’s office. They were all seated in couches and chairs in the sitting area. Instinctively, his back stiffened, wondering if he was in for another round of lay off Kara warnings.

  Boone gestured toward an empty seat opposite him. “You might want to sit for this.”

  Sergei shook his head. Boone’s pinched expression meant the issue was something worse than any don’t fuck the client advice. “What’s going on?” he said, lowering to the chair. His fingers dug into the soft leather.

  A long pause ensued, the only sound the soft hum of the overhead fan.

  Boone’s gaze scanned the room. “One of our guys followed Menchaca out of town. Drove all the way to New Orleans, but he didn’t board any plane for San Antonio.” He stretched out an arm and pushed a manila folder across the coffee table situated at the center of the circle.

  Sergei picked it up, flipped it open, and found photos of Menchaca, standing on a sidewalk in what appeared to be a commercial shopping area, talking to a tall Hispanic man. A handsome dude with longish black hair and the face of a movie star. Without reading the notes, he knew he was looking at Lucio Ma
rroquin. His gut tightened. So did his face. His glance shot up to Boone. “Doesn’t look like he’s there to arrest him.”

  “Nope.” A muscle rippled along the edge of Boone’s jaw. “Our guy sent the photos last night. Said he’d follow them to wherever they’d holed up, but we haven’t heard from him since. He’s not answering his phone.”

  “Who was on it?”

  “Sid Pinsky.”

  “Sid Vicious,” Sergei said, using his nickname, one they’d given him jokingly because he always seemed to be rescuing strays—women and dogs.

  “We’re assuming the worst. That he was made by the Omegas. Taken or dead.”

  “Do we know where the photos were taken?”

  “Yeah, in the Garden District. We’re canvassing the businesses, seeing whether anyone heard or saw anything, but we don’t expect much.”

  “We get any pings off his phone?”

  Eric cleared his throat. “Not a one. If he’d had time to ditch it, we’d at least have a better idea of his last position. As it is, it’s like he dropped off the face of the earth.”

  Sid had a wife. Someone, other than them, who’d care. Sergei set his hands on his hips. “So, Marroquin is in the state.”

  Boone nodded. “Might already be closer than we think.”

  Which placed Kara in extreme danger. His jaw tightened. “I take it you’ve already pulled in more guards?”

  “They’re posted all around and in Bayou Vert. Anyone new shows up, we should have them.”

  Jonesy shifted on his seat, setting his elbows on his thighs as he leaned forward. “Only point of entry we don’t have completely covered is the river. If he somehow gets local help, he could find a back door…” His expression hardened. “The estate is covered—the gardens, anyway—but the sugarcane fields are bordered by water. They could slip in anywhere. And we don’t have that kind of manpower. No one does, short of the National Guard.”

  “She stays buttoned up in the house,” Boone said. “Away from every window. We’ll bring in sentry dogs to patrol around the fields.”

  Sergei nodded. “We’d better bring Leon up to speed. You let your FBI contact know?”

  “Already on it. Menchaca may think he’s in the clear. Or he might try to talk his way out of the situation, claiming there’s not enough evidence to arrest Marroquin, but now we know he’s dirty.”