Wreckless Engagement: The Russian Engagement Series

by K. Marie

  Garland still didn’t say a word as he got to his knees on the carpeted floor, pulling me to face him. He wasn’t gentle, and his actions were marked with impatience as he moved between my spread thighs with a look of lust in his eyes. My breath caught when he thrust into me, hard, a lustful groan breaking the silence.

  Garland held stock-still, eyes squeezed tightly shut as though in bliss or in pain. Though, when he opened them again, he leveled a look at me that stole my breath away.

  And I know that I’m in trouble.

  I knew that I’d willingly signed-on for that Greek tragedy Marie talked about, but I was powerless to stop it.

  Garland fucked me slow, eyes traveling down my body until he was gazing between my thighs. He had a birds-eye view in this position, and his gaze became focused on his cock’s movement with rapt attention. As he watched our bodies intimately connect, I watched his grim face, knowing that something was off with him.

  Though admittedly, his ability to make my body respond certainly wasn’t one of them.

  Wrapping my legs around his waist to better anchor myself to him, I writhed and moaned as Garland worked his magic. When his eyes finally traveled back to meet mine, we watched each other intently, and I wished like hell I was a mind reader. His hands glided underneath my shirt, thumbs grazing my sensitive nipples.

  “Do you like me fucking you, Camry?” he asked, finally deigning to speak.

  Like it? I fucking love it. But I must hesitate too long, because he thrusts into me harder when I don’t immediately respond.

  “I don’t hear you!” he growled, and I could do nothing more than moan.

  I was so close to orgasm, that a couple more of those thrusts would send me reeling.

  “God, yes,” I managed to whisper, almost at the finish line.

  Garland’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction, and he fucked me harder, until an agonized pleasure shot through my body. But I had no time to recover as he hooked his arms underneath my thighs, then fucked me like he hated me.

  All I could do was hold on for the ride, nails digging into his arms, trying to find purchase during my free-fall from sanity.

  Garland cursed under his breath as he found his release, letting out a groan that sounded like the sweetest of torments as his body jerked from the force of it. Once he’d finally stilled, he collapsed forward, body landing hard on top of mine.

  The man was destined to be my undoing…I just knew it.

  Lifting his head to gaze down at me, Garland studied me silently.

  I lifted a tired finger to trace his face; wanting to memorize its every contour.

  “I found I couldn’t go home tonight without seeing you,” he said after a moment, tone almost accusatory.

  I felt an instant elation at his words; but hesitated to show it. Because, though he’d just fucked me senseless, it didn’t seem to have improved his mood. Garland was still brooding, and damn near glowered at me as though I’d offended him.

  I gaped back in perplexity. “And…that’s a problem for you?” I questioned uncertainly, not sure I was following.

  “Yes," he confirmed, all monosyllabic-like.

  I just remained silent.

  “It's a problem when I can’t manage to go eight hours without thoughts of burying my dick inside of you,” he clarified, shocking the hell out of me.

  Gulp!

  “I’ve always been a disciplined man; I almost never second-guess myself, yet, I find myself doing just that with you,” he said, words dripping with displeasure.

  What in the hell was he talking about? Was he blaming me for making him do something he didn’t want to do?

  Because I damn sure didn’t make him put his dick inside of me.

  “What are you talking about, Garland, why are you angry with me?” I asked in bewilderment.

  “I’m not angry with you,” he denied, letting out a sigh.

  Really? Because I couldn’t tell at all, since I’m the one he’s scowling at. Something had him in a shit mood, and he’d just taken it out on my pussy.

  This Garland wasn’t the same man I’d spent the past few days with, this one was a whole lot more intense, and even a little bit scary. He’d definitely lost his easygoing charm.

  “Please let me up,” I told him, pushing against his chest. I was feeling suddenly vulnerable with him pinning me down.

  But Garland did the opposite of what I wanted. Instead, he grasped both my hands from where they rested against his chest; clamped one large hand around my wrists, then pinned them above my head.

  “Dammit Garland, let go!” I exclaimed in alarm, bucking beneath him.

  He wasn’t hurting me, but he was starting to freak me out.

  “What in the hell is your problem?!” I yelled in frustration, becoming pissed.

  “What’s my problem?” he asked, barking a laugh that held no traces of humor. “It appears you are my problem,” he charged, looking at me as though I’d just stolen his prized possession.

  If his prized possession was his sanity, then it’s certainly gone missing.

  “What in the hell do you want from me, Garland?” I ask tiredly, having grown wary of his behavior. I was quickly regretting not having just stayed in bed; I didn’t need this shit.

  “I’ve decided I want you, Camry, only that just wouldn’t be good enough. I’ve decided that no less than fucking owning you will do,” he said coolly, dead-calm tone somehow belying the momentous statement.

  I simply stared as though he’d just said all of that shit in Russian, words not properly translating.

  I felt a growing panic as I pulled at his hold on my wrists again, needing to put some immediate space between us. Garland thankfully released me at once, pushing himself back before extending a hand to help me sit. We sat eye-to-eye; with him still on his knees, and with me sitting on the edge of the seat glaring at him.

  “If acting like a giant asshole is your way of showing me that you want me, your approach could use a lot of work,” I admonished in agitation.

  Perhaps he truly was nuts. His mouth said one thing, his actions another. I thought women were the only ones allowed to send crazy-ass mixed messages.

  “I want you, Camry, that’s not up for debate. But just so I’m making myself clear, I want to be the only man with the right to touch your body,” he told me.

  “But, I’ve got a whole other life, Garland; have you forgotten I’m engaged?” I asked in puzzlement.

  “End it!” he instructed, clearly not giving a shit.

  “It seems you’ve already forgotten it, so I don’t imagine it’ll be all that difficult. Besides, you couldn’t possibly love the bastard, considering you’ve been in my bed the past three days,” he added scathingly.

  His words hit with impact, their intended effect right on target. I couldn’t possibly deny them. Any guilty feelings I’d experienced where John’s concerned, hadn’t deterred me in any way.

  “Unless of course, this means nothing to you,” he remarked, snapping my attention back from John.

  “Don’t be such a jerk. If you believe me to be someone who has indiscriminate, meaningless sex, why in the hell would you want me?” I challenged.

  Why he was being a dick, I couldn’t fathom.

  “Shit, Camry, that’s not what I meant. I seem to keep putting my foot in my mouth,” he said in apology, raking a frustrated hand through his hair.

  Ya think? I wanted to say, but refrained.

  Garland eyed me oddly, uncertainly. “You’ve managed to make me unreasonable,” he said an accusation.

  I looked back at him doubtfully.

  He was for damn sure being unreasonable, but I wasn’t taking credit for it. I’m guessing he was an ass-hat long before meeting me.

  Garland shifted his eyes to the window on his right; then down to where our clothes lay discarded on the floor. “We should get dressed, we’ll continue this discussion inside,” he said.

  With the tumultuous physical and emotional goings-on inside the c
ar, I didn’t realize the car stopped moving.

  Garland handed me my panties and shorts; only to receive a reproachful look for his efforts. He smirked as he refastened his pants and belt, then pulled on his shirt and went to work on the buttons.

  “Where are we?” I asked, looking out the window. I couldn’t make out much more than us being parked next to another car.

  “We’re at my home,” he answered, pushing a button to illuminate the interior of the car.

  My eyes went immediately to the area where the frosted privacy glass should be, yet wasn’t. I saw only the same light-colored interior as the rest of the car—the frosted glass wasn’t there. I’d somehow missed that when I got into the car a short while ago.

  My face heated instantly with embarrassment; at the realization that Joe had obviously known what was going on in back of the car. Because though we’d reached our destination, he hadn’t disturbed us.

  Shit, how mortifying! I wondered if he could hear us.

  When I looked over at Garland, I saw him watching me, and knew that he’d correctly read my mortified expression. “He can’t hear us, its soundproof back here,” he assured me.

  “I’m sure he knows what we were doing, though,” I argued.

  Garland gave a nonchalant shrug, obviously unconcerned with Joe knowing such a thing.

  “What happened to the glass?” I asked.

  “It's hidden behind that panel,” he answered, pressing a button on the door to demonstrate.

  A section of the interior wall lowered to reveal the glass.

  “I’m still mortified,” I asserted, hardly reassured by the illusion of privacy.

  Though Joe couldn’t see or hear us, didn’t mean he was stupid.

  “You worry for no reason. Besides, Joe can’t blame a man for not being able to keep his hands off of you,” Garland said with a wink.

  Easy for him to say.

  When it comes to sex, there’s a double standard for women. Garland was just being a man, while I would be labeled a slut.

  “Regardless…I’ll never be able to look that man in the eye again after this,” I said in defeat.

  Twenty

  A gasp of surprise escaped my mouth when Garland climbed out of the car—revealing the grip of a gun tucked into the back waistband of his pants

  What the hell? Where’d it even come from?

  The tail of his untucked shirt had gotten caught over it, but I must’ve missed him placing it there.

  Garland offered a hand to help me out of the car, and the gun was momentarily forgotten as I became distracted by my surroundings. We were inside of a huge garage, the likes of which I’d never seen before. I wasn’t actually sure it could even be called a mere garage.

  There were several other cars parked inside, the black Range Rover among them, and what looked to be a silver-gray Lamborghini. And even though I couldn’t even begin to name the others, I knew they looked expensive. The garage itself must’ve been at least five times the size of most two-car garages, and had a much higher roof pitch than was standard.

  “Jeez, you running a chop-shop here or what?” I asked, gawking. Talk about boys and their toys.

  He gave me a roguish grin as he clutched my hand, leading me towards an opened doorway about thirty feet away.

  We entered into a brightly lit hallway that led us to a short flight of stairs, up one floor, to alight onto a spacious foyer with gleaming marble floors. A towering set of glass-fronted doors sat to our right, a wide arched doorway to our left, and a huge and sparkling chandelier hung from a towering ceiling just above a grand curving staircase.

  Garland headed in that direction.

  Once we’d climbed to the top, he led me past several closed doors before arriving at the end of the long hallway and stopping in front of yet another set of double-doors. I followed him into a bedroom that illuminated as we entered, obviously on some sort of sensor. The room was large and masculine in décor, with the standard furnishings, and a king-sized bed that had been neatly made. The headboard of the bed rested against an expanse of the long wall behind it, which was completely mirrored.

  Interesting.

  My hand flew up to cover my mouth as an unintentional snort escaped, causing Garland to look back at me. “Something wrong?” he asked.

  “Uh, no,” I answered immediately, before letting out another snort as I glanced back at the mirror. I don’t know what had gotten into me, I must be deliriously tired.

  “Do you find my decorating tastes amusing?” he asked with a lifted brow.

  “No! I’m not laughing at your decorating tastes, just the cheesy freak-mirror,” I said with a grin.

  “The mirror was there when I purchased the house, I just never cared enough to change it. However, your presence here inspires me to put it to good use,” he said with a wink.

  Turning away, he walked further into the room—haphazardly tossing his suit jacket across a tan suede chair, which brought my attention back to the gun.

  “Why are you carrying a gun?” I asked.

  Garland visibly stilled, before turning to face me. “I occasionally carry a weapon for the same reason I have security. I had a recent security breach at my company, so I’m being a bit more cautious than usual,” he explained.

  I noticed for the first time that he looked exhausted; his eyes were shadowed, and his face weary. I was curious as hell to know where he’d gone tonight, but knew I didn’t have the right to ask.

  Garland pulled the gun from his pants, carefully checking the safety before placing it on the dresser in front of him. Having grown up with a cop for a father, I’d been around guns before. On occasion, my dad would even take Lauren and me along to the shooting range to practice, so I learned how to handle them. Garland just looked very comfortable and competent while handling his.

  “Do you really know how to use that?” I questioned curiously.

  “Of course, I do, otherwise, carrying it would be pointless,” he answered, there being a duh implied in there somewhere.

  “Plenty of people carry guns without having any idea of how to properly use them, smart-ass,” I retorted with a roll of my eyes.

  Garland narrowed his eyes as he advanced towards me. “I’ll show you a smart-ass,” he threatened, reaching out and almost grabbing hold of me.

  Letting out a screech, I darted out of reach to evade him.

  Running to the other side of the bed, I leapt onto it and started to crawl across—but Garland was quick; grasping me by the ankle and pulling me back.

  “Let go of me, Caveman!” I yelled, struggling to get away.

  I laughed uncontrollably as he grabbed hold of my other ankle and pulled me all the way back, before straddling me from behind. “This will go a lot easier if you hold still,” he warned.

  Securing both my wrists, he pulled my arms behind my back, effectively immobilizing me. “Oh God, please, I’m sorry!” I screamed, thrashing like crazy when he began to tickle me along my rib cage.

  Garland discovered I was extremely ticklish when he rubbed sunblock onto my back while in Key West.

  “Too late now, this smart-ass is going to teach you a lesson,” he taunted.

  “Oh God, oh God, oh God!” I cried helplessly, while Garland tortured me mercilessly.

  By the time he finished, I was thoroughly winded and subdued, and lay like a useless lump as he climbed off of me. Flipping me over like a rag-doll, he lifted me from the bed and tossed me over his shoulder.

  “I hope you’ve learned your lesson, woman. Now come, this Caveman needs a shower,” he said, walking towards what I assumed to be the bathroom.

  “That wasn’t fair!” I complained with a weak laugh, swatting him on the ass.

  We entered a bathroom that featured a lot of marble, a large spa-type bathtub, and a large shower with a clear glass door.

  “I told you before, I don’t play fair,” Garland said, lowering me to my feet.

  He reached for the hem of my shirt and pulled it over my
head, the rest of our clothes quickly following. The water was a bit hot for my tastes, but I didn’t object as we showered without fooling around, then fell into bed naked and passed out almost immediately.

  “Do you ever sleep?” I complained the next morning, cracking a sleepy smile. I lay draped halfway across his warm body, having been pulled from sleep by the feel of his hands on my skin.

  “Yes, just not as long as some,” Garland responded.

  “Perhaps if some of us weren’t always worn out by a sex fiend, we wouldn’t be so tired,” I returned, then yelped when he pinched my ass.

  “If you’re not worn out, I’m not properly doing my job,” he told me.

  “Then consider the job well done, because I’ve been worn out the past three days,” I assured him, slapping the offending hand.

  Garland moved fast as he tossed me onto my back, bearing his body weight down on top of me. “Are you complaining? Because I can assure you that I haven’t heard you complaining while hitting those high notes,” he said smugly.

  “Bragging is never attractive,” I laughed, feeling his morning erection pressing into my thigh.

  “I’m hardly bragging, merely stating a fact,” he arrogantly countered, eyes alight with mischief.

  “God, you’re cocky as hell. Might I suggest you look up the definition of humility?” I said in amusement.

  The man is nothing if not confident, and it was sexy as hell.

  Garland just grinned as I slid my fingers through his mussed bed-head, attempting to neaten it. An apparent exercise in futility.

  I willingly became Garland’s sex-slave for the rest of the morning.

  And as great as sex had been between the two of us, this time felt distinctly different. There were no feelings of intense physical need fueling our bodies, just one of emotion and connection. Garland’s lovemaking was slow and methodical, carried out in an unhurried manner that suggested he had all day to complete his task.