Hero Undercover: 25 Breathtaking Bad Boys

by Annabel Joseph

  All protests she might have mustered dissolved in the inferno of his undeniable desire.

  He dropped her on the bed and shoved her skirt up. Her panties flew off, but her high-heeled sandals with the straps around the ankles stayed on.

  Yuri dropped to his knees on the floor and shoved her knees apart. “I’ve been dying to eat this pussy from the first moment I saw you,” he growled before licking a line from her anus to her clit.

  She jerked at the shock of it, but he pinned her in place, applying his tongue with an alacrity she wouldn’t have believed possible.

  “Where do you want my tongue, baby?”

  Her face grew warm as she realized the simultaneous shame and desire his tongue on her anus had produced.

  “Here?” He swirled it over that tight ring of muscles and she cried out. “Or here?” He made his tongue stiff and penetrated her pussy. “How about here?” He flicked her clit three times, then suctioned his mouth over the little nubbin and sucked hard.

  She shrieked, yanking his hair. She would have thrashed her hips if he didn’t have her completely pinned.

  “Which one, baby?”

  “A-all of them.” She tugged on his hair again, wanting him to lick her everywhere, to drive her mad with that talented tongue of his.

  He made a satisfied sound in his throat and repeated his first move of licking the long line up her perineum. When he swirled his tongue around her clit, her cries grew more urgent. He shoved two fingers inside her and stroked her G-spot while sucking on her clit.

  She screamed, her chest arching away from the bed because her hips wouldn’t move. Her thighs clamped down on Yuri’s ears, and her inner walls quaked as she came all over his fingers.

  Thirty seconds, tops.

  That’s how fast he’d made her come. The man was a certified sex genius.

  When he lifted his head, his expression was no less intense than it had been when they’d started. “This time, Lucya, I will keep you up all night.”

  And without asking if she wanted more or waiting for a response, he rolled her to her belly and delivered a sharp slap to her ass.

  “Ow, Yuri!” She reached back to protect her ass, but he caught her wrist and pinned it to her lower back. Her other cheek received a similar treatment.

  “You wanted to know how I could make a woman like her spanking.”

  She wanted to deny it, was annoyed enough at the pain of the slaps that she considered fighting back, but her pussy throbbed with excitement. Her recent orgasm had done nothing to minimize the thrill of her new position.

  He spanked her again, apparently not holding back.

  “Ow, Yuri—that hurts!”

  “Da, solnishko. I want you to remember where I’ve been.” He smacked her ass again, then slapped between her legs, spanking her pussy.

  “Yuri!”

  “A little less fear when you scream my name, solnishko. I’ll never give you more than you can take. Do you believe that?”

  She lay there, her bottom clenching and releasing in anticipation of another spank, but it didn’t fall. And she found herself… disappointed. “You’re a controlling bastard.”

  He leaned over and kissed one of her tingling butt cheeks as he stroked along her honeyed slit.

  “And you’re wetter than you were when I was eating you out. Which do you like better, having your ass spanked,” —he delivered another loud smack— “or being restrained?”

  Which did she like better? They were one and the same, really. The thrill of having control wrested from her, of surrendering to the will of another, even when that involved pain.

  He spanked her again and again, and it hurt in the most satisfying way, each slap first biting, then tingling and warming the surface of her ass while her core turned molten.

  After a dozen or so smacks, he rubbed her ass, kneading roughly. “Good girl, Lucya.” He leaned over her, molding his body to hers as his hand snaked around the front of her hips to cup her mons.

  “I want to fuck this perfect pussy now. Would you like that?” He bit the shell of her ear as his middle finger tapped her clit.

  “Mmm,” was all she could manage.

  “If you want your pussy fucked, roll over and spread your legs wide.”

  Even in his most dominant moments, he gave her the freedom of a choice. And she loved him for it. He released her and she scrambled onto her back and parted her thighs. It seemed like once with Yuri was never enough.

  “Clothes off,” she rasped.

  “What?” He paused in the act of ripping open a condom.

  “I want your clothes off.” If he could make demands, so could she.

  One corner of his mouth kicked up. “Oh yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

  He worked down the buttons on his shirt and parted the two sides. “You, too.” He lifted his chin at her before peeling off his undershirt. His chest was sculpted beauty, covered in tattoos, some crude, some more artistic. She wondered if they held meaning for him.

  She hadn’t moved, too caught up in staring at his muscled torso.

  “If I have to undress you, you’ll get another spanking.”

  Her pussy clenched. Did she want another spanking? Why, yes, she actually might. She certainly wanted him to undress her.

  His face split into an uncharacteristic grin when she didn’t move. “So,” he rumbled. “That’s how it is?” He dropped his pants and boxer briefs. His manhood stood proud, bobbing in her direction.

  She stared at it, tongue wetting her lips.

  “You tease me.” He grasped her hips and pulled her toward him, then flicked the button on her jean skirt. He tossed the skirt over his shoulder. Her tank top went in the opposite direction, toward the head of the bed. The hot pink bra he wrapped around her wrists, tying it into a knot with a satisfied smirk. “Now, the spanking.”

  She’d played docile up until then, but now she picked up a foot to kick him.

  He captured both her ankles and held them together in one hand, lifting them high above her head. It pulled her somewhere between the yoga plow position and candlestick pose, her ass lifted in the air and angled toward him.

  He spanked her and she shrieked at the vulnerability of the position, her pussy exposed and bulging between her thighs, fully accessible to his punishing hand. He didn’t miss the opportunity, either. He spanked her buttocks, pussy, and the backs of her thighs.

  “Yuri! Yuri, stop!” she cried out, squirming against the onslaught.

  “I warned you.”

  “Yes, you did, but please.”

  He paused and ran a calloused hand over her twitching buttocks. “Please what?”

  “Please… fuck me now?”

  Another grin, this one feral. “You are trying to distract me.”

  Yes, of course she was. But she denied it. She shook her head. “No, I need your cock, Yuri. Now.”

  He uttered something in Russian that had to be a curse and parted her ankles, pulling her legs straight and wide. “You hold your legs like this. I want to fuck you spread eagle tonight.” He picked up the condom he’d flung on the bed earlier and ripped it open, rolling it on. “You move out of position and I will put you over my knee and spank you until you beg me to stop. Then I’ll fuck your ass.” He pushed into her.

  “Jesus, Yuri.” The shock of his words fled with the glory of being filled by him.

  He paused and reached down to stroke her cheek. “Shh, solnishko. You know I’ll always take care of you, yes?”

  She nodded. “Da.”

  Another grin as he plowed into her, moving with smooth, steady strokes. She could get used to seeing Yuri the Fury in smiles. “I will reward you for that, moye Lucya.”

  A reward from Yuri. She desperately wanted to know what that would be, although she could guess from his exceptionally skilled handling of her body what it might involve.

  He gripped her calves and rocked in and out of her, stretching her and filling her with each incredible pump. She writhed and whimpe
red beneath him, wanting even more. When she wrapped her legs around his back to urge him in harder, he pulled out and smacked the back of her thigh. “I told you to hold position.”

  “No, no, no, no.” She shook her head and begged, not because she was afraid of his threatened punishment, but because she needed him to go on fucking her—harder.

  He crawled over the top of her. “Legs open, baby,” he murmured as he angled into her again, this time plunging deeper.

  She gave a strangled cry and reached for his shoulders, digging her nails into them as he pounded her with increasing speed. “Yes… more… yes… Yuri.”

  “That’s it, baby. Say my name when I fuck you. Say it.”

  “Yuri, you crazy Russian egomaniac,” she panted.

  His lips crooked into a smile again, flashing white teeth, and he reared back and slammed into her so hard she would’ve flown across the bed if his hands weren’t positioned above her shoulders to hold her in place.

  Her breath left her in a grunt.

  “Another like that?”

  “Yes,” she gasped.

  Four more times he fucked her like his cock was a weapon and she screamed on the fifth, her body locking down and pussy clenching all around his cock.

  His face contorted and he pumped frantically in short, hard thrusts, giving her even more of what felt so good as he spurred his own release. He shouted something in Russian and roared, the muscles in his neck cording up, his thighs contracting as he came.

  When the lights stopped dancing in front of his eyes, Lucy’s beautiful face came back into focus. To his shock, he found her watching him… with a smile.

  Every last part of him went weak with gratitude to see that face, already so precious to him, shining.

  What in the hell did she see that made her smile? What made this girl absorb darkness and turn it into light?

  “You okay?” he croaked.

  She nodded. He eased out, hoping to God he hadn’t hurt her with such forceful fucking. “Don’t move.” He padded to the bathroom, disposed of the condom, and returned with a hand towel to wipe off any sweat or cum.

  She had obeyed him, lying perfectly still on the bed. He climbed over her with the awe of a child who’s just had the fortune of a butterfly landing on his nose. He toweled her body with reverence, like he was anointing a queen—no, a goddess.

  When he was satisfied, he nestled down beside her. “Beautiful girl, I have money—lots of it. From when I was in Russian mafiya. I set up Swiss bank account and funneled my income there. It’s been growing for last ten years. More than three million. I never had a reason to spend it. But with you—for you… we could go anywhere. Do anything.”

  Lucy pushed up onto her elbows to look at him. He should have noticed the skepticism on her face.

  “I can quit FBI. I owe them nothing—they’ve already taken what was left of my soul. You could do anything—open yoga studio, or your own nightclub.”

  “Yuri, you can’t buy me.”

  The scorn in her voice gutted him. He sat up as she did. He wasn’t trying to buy her. Was he? He just wanted to offer what he had. Maybe that was trying to buy her, secure his position, make sure they had a future. He swallowed hard around the band in his throat. “I’m sorry—”

  “I already have a life and there isn’t a place in it for you.”

  No punch had ever hit him harder. Cold washed through him as he eased off the bed and pulled on his clothes.

  She must have seen the gaping hole in his chest because she said, “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. It doesn’t mean there can’t be a place for you in the future.”

  He didn’t want to hear any more. Not because she’d hurt him, but because she was right. He didn’t belong in her life. He’d known that from the very beginning. The biggest favor he could do Lucy was to stay away.

  Lucy climbed off the bed, too, searching for her scattered clothes. “You don’t just kidnap me, fuck me twice and decide we’re a couple.” She yanked on her panties. “I mean, there’s a protocol to dating. You ask for my number, give me a call. We hang out and decide if it works…” But her voice had trailed off at the end as even she realized the unlikelihood of the scenario she had presented.

  They weren’t going to hang out. Or go on a date. He didn’t fit in her life.

  She pulled her too-small tank top over her head. “Where is my phone, anyway? May I have it back?”

  “Yes, I have it,” he mumbled, grateful for the excuse to leave the room. The FBI had already screened her phone and downloaded all the data from it in case it was needed as evidence. He’d set it on the table by the door when he’d come in. He escaped to the front room and picked up her phone, staring at it without seeing.

  He shouldn’t have come. Should have let her make the clean break they both knew she deserved. Her phone rang and he looked at the screen. Jake. He walked back to the bedroom where she was straightening her skirt and tossed her the cell. “Your brother.”

  A mixture of relief and something darker crossed her face. She answered the call. “Jake? Where are you?”

  “Just leaving the police department. Where are you? The feds say you don’t have to stay in the safe house now that they’ve confirmed the deaths of Don Diego and his guys.” Jake’s voice carried from the phone.

  Yuri left the room to give her privacy and found himself standing in the middle of the room, staring at nothing. He wasn’t sure his heart even knew how to beat anymore. He’d never felt more dead. If he thought he’d lost his soul before, he’d been wrong. Now it had been fully rent from him, because he was nothing more than an empty shell.

  Walk away. Leave her in peace. What seemed impossible a few hours ago now crystallized into resolve. Thank God she’d rejected him or he would have never let her go.

  She came out and cleared her throat. “Jake’s going to come pick me up.”

  “Great.” The word came out too quickly, sounded too stiff.

  She found her purse and stuffed her phone in it. “So, do you want my number?”

  The stake in his heart rammed deeper. Were they really going to pretend? “Sure.” He forced the word out and mechanically pulled out the replacement phone the FBI had given him after they’d taken his for evidence. He thumbed in the number she recited and hit ‘save.’

  He walked around the breakfast bar that separated the tiny kitchen from the living room and searched the cabinets. “Are you hungry?”

  “No.” She drew a breath. “Yuri—”

  “Don’t.” Whatever it was, he didn’t want to hear it. The sooner they ended this, the better.

  She smacked the counter between them. “You don’t get to sulk, okay? You—”

  He whirled around, cutting her off, because he sensed she was winding up for a tirade and he was already about to crumble. “No. I don’t sulk. You are right—this is best.” He walked swiftly back around the island and gripped her upper arms. “I should not have come here tonight. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for what I’ve done to you. Sorry for it all.” Breathing her scent was too much for him and he released her, turning abruptly away and walking to the window. “Sorry not sorry,” he admitted in a mutter.

  She emitted a choked laugh. “What did you say?”

  “Not sorry I got to touch you. Be near you. Fuck your hot little pussy. Not sorry for me. But sorry for you. ”

  Another incredulous bark of laughter. “Crazy fucking Russian.”

  He shoved his hands in his pockets and looked over his shoulder at her. “Mostly crazy, yes.”

  She walked over to him and threaded her arms under his, hugging him from behind.

  With tremendous effort, he eased them off and stepped away. “Please. Don’t. Or Yuri will be nailing you hard against that wall when your brother comes.”

  A shocked sheesh sound escaped her lips. She shook her head. “You’re speaking about yourself in third person again.”

  “Da. Crazy fucking Russian.”

  He made the mistake of meeting
her eyes when she smiled and got caught in her gaze, the pleasure of being the one who’d made her smile so immense it nearly bowled him over.

  The crunch of gravel sounded outside and he pulled back the curtain. “He’s here. Leave quickly. If I see him, I’ll smash his fucking nose for leaving you hanging last night.”

  She didn’t move. “Yuri?”

  He faced the window, didn’t respond.

  “Right. Well, you have my number. I expect you to use it. Okay?”

  “Da.”

  She took a step, he sensed it was toward him, rather than away.

  He tensed, but she seemed to change her mind. “Right. Thanks, Yuri. For protecting me. Even if it was your job.”

  His hands balled into fists and he wanted to shout at her, to correct that notion that he’d done it because it was his job, but somehow he managed to glue his lips shut. “Goodbye,” he choked.

  “Yeah. Bye.”

  He waited for the door to close and watched her walk down the sidewalk and throw her arms around her brother in a tight embrace the fucker didn’t deserve. But when she drew away, she hit him with her purse three times.

  The corners of his lips twitched. His girl had spunk, but he’d known that.

  Except she wasn’t his girl. And she never would be.

  The sooner he got that through his thick skull, the better.

  Chapter 7

  Two weeks since she’d been kidnapped and Yuri hadn’t called.

  Lucy clomped into the DJ booth and set down her crate of records. It was Friday night and a decent crowd was gathered at the Blue Turtle, even though it was only 10 p.m. Jake still had his club—Yuri had destroyed the papers Jake had signed giving it to Don Diego’s designee. She’d returned to work, but had felt like a fish out of water.

  Yuri had definitely given her the goodbye forever vibe when they parted, but she’d still hoped he’d contact her. Every day that went by without hearing from him amped up the underlying anxiety she’d been carrying since she’d been kidnapped.