His eyes look suspiciously wet for a moment, and then he crushes me to his chest in a hug so tight that I can't breathe.
I never want to leave his arms again.
Chapter Fifteen
NIKOLAI
I DO NOT SEE VASILY before I leave. He gives us one week for Daisy's bruises to heal. They are all superficial but very painful. Daniel and I carry the body of Sergei to his car. He will take care of it. "Pigs," he says. I care not.
My attention is focused on Daisy. She cries at night, every night, and I hold her as she clings to me. Before Daniel left, Daisy makes him vow to find Regan. Her nightmares are a mix of fear for herself and for Regan.
"Your name, Daisy Miller, it is the character in a famous story, yes?" I ask her one night when she cannot sleep. I do not know if the time in the hands of the Petrovichs bother her more than the killing of the head of the snake. I'm afraid to ask.
"No." I can feel the soft shake of her head against my chest. I feed her a little more vodka. It has helped these past nights for her to fall asleep. "I've never heard of that before."
"Da, Henry James writes about a flower in bloom who stands outside of society but is lovely nonetheless." I do not tell her that the Daisy Miller in the story is an incorrigible flirt looked down upon or made fun of by everyone around her. "She has tragic ending."
"Great," she mutters. "I'm named after a girl who dies?"
"Da, your parents know of this?" I stroke her back and tip the vodka against her lips again. She swallows and snuggles closer.
"I don't think my parents ever heard of Henry James. My mom said I was named after all the wild daisies that grew on the farm."
"It is perfect name." I wish I could show her how much I love her, but her body is bruised and hurts all over. Later there will be time for loving. We have many days together.
After our one-week reprieve, Daniel arrives and escorts us to the Moscow Vnukovo airport. There, Daisy and I will take a charter jet to Switzerland. Winter is on the cusp here. I've bundled Daisy into a borrowed fur. I wear only a long-sleeve shirt and jeans borrowed from Daniel. Everything that Daisy and I brought to Russia will remain here.
"I've got a lead on Regan," Daniel says to Daisy. The mention of Regan's name brings forth her tears.
"Thank you," she chokes out.
Daisy nearly runs up the stairs into the body of the jet, but I stop to take one last look. Russia is a vast, mysterious land. There are portions of the northern country that few men have ever explored. In the winter, it is harsh and unforgiving, but every spring, the foliage comes out. The people here are resilient like the land itself.
My heart aches a little as I realize that I may never step another foot on Russian soil again. Nor that of Ukraine. I take deep breaths, wanting to suck in and preserve some of this land that has made me.
"You'll miss this place, huh?" says Daniel, shivering a little in his thick coat. Yes, he is from a warmer climate. In my shirt, I feel nothing but the cleansing air. The colder the wind, the more pure.
"You see harsh landscapes and acres of snow, and I see the warm blanket of winter sheltering the earth until it is time for the seeds to flower and rise again. We are a people of resilience and survival."
I feel Daniel shrug beside me, the wool of his heavy jacket barely moving over the gesture. "So you make a sacrifice, and that way you know your treasure is worth it."
I nod. Leaving a small bit of me here in Russia is not that big of a sacrifice when I get Daisy in return. She is the embodiment of the spirit of my homeland—beautiful, resilient, and powerful. "I am in your debt. Call upon me before I pass so that I may go into my rest unfettered." I phrase my request in such a way that Daniel cannot deny me. He shakes his head in rueful agreement.
"Go on then. I'll call in the marker soon enough." Daniel pushes me up the stairs but this time I am the one running up into the plane.
Inside, I sit next to Daisy. The craft is small but luxurious. There is no one but Daisy and me and the pilot. No others to see us leave. I don't ask who the pilot is, nor do I care.
"Why can't you return?" Daisy asks, reaching for my hand.
"The Petrovich interests are well-protected here in Eastern Europe. Its tentacles are far reaching. In exchange for killing Sergei, I am allowed to leave on the provision that I do not return.
Daisy makes a choked sound. I rush to reassure her. "Nyet, do not cry kitten. You are my home now."
THE FLIGHT TO ZURICH PASSES quickly, but the whole time I can think of nothing else but Daisy naked in a big bed. I ache to hold her and remind each other that we are alive. Her scents fills my nose and thoughts of her in various stages of undress and in various positions torment me.
It is hard for me to rise from my seat when we land. I close my eyes momentarily and think of Sergei getting eaten by pigs. Daniel has promised me that he will deliver the body to a hog farm where the animals will eat all of Sergei. That is enough to kill off my erection.
I barely notice the lush appointments of the Baur Au Lac hotel. I notice Daisy looking in wonderment at the crystal chandeliers and the acres of marble floors. "You like?"
She nods and then sighs. "I'm not going to get used to this."
"I like that." I admit. "It means I can spoil you every day."
"If you spoil me every day, I will get used to it."
"Not you, my Daisy." I kiss her fiercely then, in the lobby of this staid hotel. She blushes when I pull away, and I have to position myself behind her so that the few people loitering aren't shocked by my erection. Once we are inside the hotel suite, I draw Daisy into my arms.
She draws in a deep breath. "Nick, I want you to love me."
"I do." I tighten my hold.
"No, I mean, physically."
At first, I do not understand, but as she stares at me, a flush begins to spread. Suddenly comprehension takes hold, and I am instantly hard once again. "Yes, yes, Daisy." I spread soft kisses on her temple and forehead and draw back to check again that she is serious.
She nibbles her lip and her flush deepens. "For some reason, after all this, I feel embarrassed."
"Don't." I lead her into the bedroom, and the lush surroundings of hotel are the perfect setting. We have a view of the park, the lake, and the Schanzengraben Canal, but none of the scenery interests either of us. "We have left it all behind us now."
I sit her on the edge of the bed and begin to disrobe. I want to confess all to her and for her to see my imperfect body. The buttons on my dress shirt have become too small, and I pop two off in my haste to tug off my shirt. My undershirt follows and then my slacks, socks, and briefs. My cock is jutting out, hungry for her. I squeeze it to get myself under control, and I hear a pleased gasp from her.
"Do you want this, kitten?"
Her eyes are bright and her skin is flushed as she watches my naked body.
I'm filled with such relief that I want to lie down before I fall down, but I lock my knees and place my hands behind my head. "In Russia, your body tells the tale of your sins or your triumphs, depending on who looks upon you." I'm tense because even though she knows what I am, she does not know all I've done. And I am about to tell her so that we can go forward without looking back.
And so, I tell her about the tattoos that cover my body. "The stars on my knees mean I bow before no government. The marks on my fingers tell you I have killed, and the dagger in my neck that I kill for money. The markings on my shoulder indicate how high in the Bratva I was. These marks all told people I was not a man to be fucked with," I pause and close my eyes and pray for strength. "I would come to you unblemished, if I could."
"And the inscription on your chest?" her soft voice says. She hasn't moved.
"Death is mercy." I am still afraid to open my eyes. I feel her gaze upon me and my cockstand lengthens. I cannot help my reaction to her, and truly I do not want to. I need her to know that I desire her at all times.
As seconds tick by, I wonder if I've made a mistake and misread her.
That now that she has seen the true me, she will turn me away. As Alexsandr did. As did my family, whoever they were. I have been alone for so many years, and I do not know how I can go on if Daisy rejects me.
I hear a swish against the heavy Egyptian cotton sheets as Daisy stands, and then I feel the heat of her body as it nears mine. Her hand brushes over my right pectoral and my nipple, and I cannot stop the shudders.
She trails her fingers under my arm to my back, where she traces the wolf's head. "And this?" she asks, her breath light upon my skin.
"I am Vor, a wolf, a predator." I respond hoarsely. These light touches of hers are more erotic than a naked woman dancing in front of me. Or two naked women performing a lewd act. Her fingers trail off, and I wonder if she is done with me. I can scarcely swallow. Then I feel the press of her lips in the middle of my back.
"Oh, Nick," she says, her mouth moving against me, "My Nikolai. I love you, and it wouldn't matter how many tattoos you have or how many bad things you've done in the past. Your life is one I can't begin to understand, but I want to spend the rest of my life learning you."
Her words are like a knife against the bonds that held me. I spin around and grab her in my arms. My mouth is upon hers before she can say another word, draw another breath. I eat at her mouth as if it is the finest delicacy in all the land. My tongue delves deep into the wet cavern of her mouth.
I swing her legs up around me and tip her back into the bed. The mattress envelops us. I trail my mouth over her jaw and down the column of her throat where I find her pulse thrumming madly. I bite it, and her hips rise up to press against me.
I thrust my thigh between her legs, and she begins to ride me. Her wetness is evident. I grind down harder and drag my mouth and tongue over her collarbone.
Her hands grab my head as she works herself into a frenzy. A release now, however, would be a weak one, and I need to be inside her somehow, either my tongue or my cock. As I ease away from her, she gives a tiny, mewling, "No, Nick."
"Shhh, kitten. Let me help you."
Her grip on my head eases and she nods, panting a bit.
"I will take care of you. Little release now, and then, when your tissues are swollen with need, I give you big release." I grin cockily at her. "One you will never forget."
"Is that right?" She shakes her head, and her mouth twitches with amusement. "Are you going to talk about it all night or are you going to do something?"
My Daisy. So fearless and so direct with her hunger. I wonder what I have done so right to have the gods smile at me like this. "Do something." I assure her. "But first, we remove your clothes."
"I don't have any marks," she says, looking at me through the lace shield of her eyelashes. It is a look designed to bring a man to his knees. It is good that I am already prostrate or I would've fell over.
"I will make them." I promise. The silk shirt that I bought her from the airport store provides little resistance when I rip it down the front.
She gasps, but then laughs a little at my eagerness. "Nick! That was my only shirt!" she says, grabbing at the sides of the torn silk. I slide my hands up to cup her breasts. Her nipples are erect and ready for my mouth. I ignore her comments about her clothes and bite her nipple through the fabric. My kitten likes the nip because her protests die off, and her hands have left her shirt to slide along my shoulders. The touch of her fingers against my bare skin is heaven.
I squeeze one breast and pinch the nipple as I mouth the other one through the lace of her bra. My free hand reaches under her and loosens the clasp. Soon her bra is gone and her beautiful breasts are bared to my gaze and my touch. I place wet kisses around the mounds and then suck the nipple of the right breast hard into my mouth.
Her cries of pleasure echo above me, and I can feel her legs move restlessly below me. "You have the most beautiful breasts, kitten. I could spend all day between these mounds." I cup them and kiss both fervently. "I would lick the valleys and nibble on the peaks until you were coming on my thigh."
"God, Nick, please," she moans.
"Please what?" I tease her.
"I ache," she says.
"Is it your heart?" I place a soft kiss over her left breast.
"No, you've filled that. I feel empty much lower."
Her words wash over me like sunshine. "Such a beautifully worded request." I tell her. "How can I not suck on your pussy when you ask so nicely?"
She bats me slightly with her hand. "Nick, that's not what I said."
I shake my head and smile. Never had I thought sex could be like this. Joyful and playful, but still erotic. "I'm, what you say, reading between the lines?"
She laughs as I intended, but her giggles are cut short as I move lower between her legs. I pull off the skirt we bought and find a tiny thong underneath. It barely covers her sexy mound. I pull it aside and see the wetness of her arousal glistening on her cunt lips and between her thighs.
"You look delicious, kitten. I cannot wait to eat you."
A twist of my fingers and the thong string breaks.
"We're going to be broke if you keep destroying all my clothes," Daisy tells me, but I can tell by the way that her thighs fall open that she cares little about the scraps of fabric I have laid waste to.
"Mmmmm" is all I say. And soon I cannot say anything else because I am licking up her nectar. I place the broad flat of my tongue along her seam and sweep her from front to back in long languorous strokes as if I am the cat and she is the milk.
Her clitoris protrudes from its hood and begs for me to suck on it. I place my mouth over her and suck it in. With my hands, I reach up and squeeze her breasts. Her thighs are gripping my head and her hands are tugging my hair with urgency.
I don't stop.
I suck and lick and bite and suck more until her pants turns to cries and her cries turn to screams. She shudders her release all over my tongue.
Into her soft swollen tissues, I slide one finger, softly breaching her innocence. She is slick and tight.
Her first instinct is to slide away. "No," she cries. "Don't. Wait. It's too much at once, Nick."
"No, kitten, we have just begun." And I begin again. I slide in one more finger, shallowly fucking her with just the tips. As her soft channel gives way, I slide my fingers in farther. I measure her reaction to ensure that the pain is minimal.
Her body is slicked with sweat, making her shine all over. I want to lick every inch of her—and I will. Her face is a study of concentrated eroticism. Her lower lip is clenched between her teeth and her fingers clutch the sheets as I build her to another orgasm. Her channel is tightening its grip on my two fingers. I slide a third one in. Three fingers is still less girth than my cock, and I want to make this as painless as possible for her.
With my thumb, I work her clit. My fingers pump in and out of her in a steady rhythm. Her breasts are bouncing, and I cannot resist their call. I bend my head and suckle on one and then the other, still working my three fingers inside of her.
Her body tenses and her thighs squeeze my hand tightly as her body bows off the bed and she screams my name again. It is the most glorious sound I've ever heard.
I keep stroking through her orgasm, and I feel the muscles in her pussy tighten again in yet another release. She is shaking now, and crying.
"Oh my God, oh my God," she chants, thrashing her head back and forth. I pull my fingers out slowly and cup her mound, pressing my longer fingers against her cunt lips. She continues to spasm and shake, and I kiss her face tenderly, licking away the tears that spill out the side of her eyes. When the tremors of her orgasm have passed, she rolls into me and I hug her body tight.
"What was that?" she asks in wonderment. I choke back a laugh.
"You had an orgasm." I tell her.
"But I've had them before, haven't I?" She sounds delightfully bewildered, and if my cock didn't ache so much from the need to be inside her, I might've spent five minutes laughing. As it was, the pain in my groin prevented all but a weak chuckle.
"Yes, but they can vary in intensity." I pull the covers over her and get up to wet a washcloth for her. "But I will always make them that good for you." I say smugly from the bathroom.
"Is that right?" She still sounds dazed, and my chest puffs up with pride at how well I have made my woman come. I wring out the washcloth and test it against my wrist. Not too hot.
"What are you doing?" She looks curiously at me.
"I'm taking care of my kitten," I tell her. Pulling down the sheets, I press the washcloth between her legs.
"That's normal, right?" Uncertainty fills her voice. "I feel like I don't know anything."
"It is," I assure her. I pull down the sheet so that her lovely body is exposed. Shyness overtakes her and she moves to cover her breasts and her pubis. Instead of brushing her hands away and telling her that she should not feel shy with me, I roll her over so that her back and lovely buttocks are exposed. I squeeze some of the hotel lotion into my hand and begin to rub her back. Her muscles here are tight, perhaps because she is unused to such casual nudity.
With long strokes, I soothe her muscles and her nerves, pressing and rubbing all the safe places. Her shoulder blades, the curves of her small biceps, the dip in her lower back. As she softens and relaxes, I begin to learn her erogenous zones. I trail my fingers along the sides of her breasts and over the curve of her buttocks. Rubbing along her inner thighs, I allow the tips of my fingers to lightly touch her cunt. She moves restlessly against the sheets, but her arousal is only a small flame, and I want it to be a roaring fire. I want to see the wetness paint her thighs and hear her breathless gasps. I want this first time of hers to be a memory of glorious pleasure rather than pain.
The focus of my massage moves downward, and I pay particular attention to the sensitive ankles and tender soles of feet. She is sensitive around the backs of her knees and the inside thigh area. All the parts I have rubbed with my fingers, I follow with my tongue and mouth, avoiding the obvious erotic zones. Daisy moans, either in delight or annoyance or both.
"You're killing me," she says, and and then freezes up, all my seductions for naught. The word "kill" has brought back bad memories. I frown at her back but lie down next to her and gather her into my arms.
Last Hit (Hitman) Page 27