Russian Heat

by Rhyll Biest

  “Bike threw me.” Her voice was unsteady.

  “Bad bike.” He kissed the scar, and then licked it.

  She sucked in a breath, let it out in a sigh as he put the tip of one long finger on her navel and slowly ran it down her centre until it met the band of her cream panties. He hooked a finger over the elastic and let it hover there. He and Vlad had been thinking about this for so long, had replayed this moment of discovery almost a thousand times in their minds, in a hundred different ways.

  But nothing compared to the real thing. With exquisite slowness he tugged, dropped to his knees and refused to look up from his hands as the fabric stretched and then descended over firm thighs, caught a little at the curve of her knees, then slid down effortlessly over small calves and ankles. Not until her panties rested in a pool of nylon at her feet did he look up.

  Fine, reddish-gold curls feathered her mound, the coverage sparser over her lips where a small glistening trail of arousal clung to the slit of her labia. Having tasted her, he struggled not to bury his head between her legs there and then to gorge on the cream leaking through her folds.

  Instead, gently insistent, he pushed her legs wider apart, licking his lips at the swollen pink flesh peeking between her folds, begging for his fingers, mouth and tongue. A potent waft of her sex teased him as he brought his face to her thigh, rubbed his cheek against its velvety softness, heart pounding as he struggled for control.

  A million dark needs pulled at him. Her pussy on his face, wriggling her juices all over his chin as she moaned. Her hands tied, thighs slung over his shoulders as he pumped into her until froth covered her pussy and his balls. Her breasts, her thighs, her belly slathered in his come, his seed marking her as his, branding his ownership. Mine. His eyes shifted to Vlad’s arms around her. Ours. He wanted both his and Vlad’s sperm lashing her.

  Burrowing his fingers deep into her channel, he gave a hiss of appreciation at her fierce heat, her tightness, and pressed his hand snug against her mound to plunge his fingers deeper inside her, his thumb butting her clit as his fingers filled the mouth of her pussy.

  She was tight with need.

  Tight, perfect, irresistible and all theirs.

  ~* * *~

  Jane drew in a ragged breath as Slava’s fingers fucked her and Vlad’s greedy hands crept around to claim the abandoned territory of her breasts, his fingers torturing her nipples with their mean frolic. She swallowed a moan, caught between bit and spur as one man’s stroking fingers worked her nipples while the other man’s kneaded her sensitive nub.

  Slava’s bronzed hand on her pale belly drew her eye, her gaze wandering up the estuary of engorged veins roping up from his forearm to the bicep bracketing his scarred chest. Insanely powerful, arms like that could do anything they wanted with her, and her resistance would mean little. She shuddered at her own recklessness.

  Her cheek still tingled from the rasping stubble of Slava’s earlier kiss and her mouth remained throbbing and tender from the slick warmth of Vlad’s tongue and teeth clashing with hers. How had she ever lived without this? Slava’s thumb bumped her clit hard and swallowing a choked cry, she sagged against Vlad, burying her face in his neck. She breathed a whiff of metallic gunpowder and grease, the smells of civilisation and order.

  Their little bathroom party went well beyond the boundaries of what most considered decent—hell, what she considered decent—but the term was meaningless confronted with the hot fist of arousal gripping her. She wanted them both, both of them plunging into her and filling her to the point of exquisite pain and beyond. Whatever happened afterward, she would deal with.

  Over the tender lash of Slava’s finger on her clit and Vlad’s hands on her breasts, she registered a cool nose tip skate along her nape. Vlad. He took a long, deep drag of her skin before retracing his path with soft, playful lips. A frisson of craving slid along her nerves and pricked her from nipples to mound, heating her belly and lust-laden legs. Her ascending need made it all the more unbearable when Slava’s hands pulled away, leaving her with a stupid ache of loss despite Vlad’s torso warming her back.

  Raising her head from Vlad’s shoulder, she looked up, eyes rounding as she found Slava drilling her with a look, eyes branding her with their intensity. He looked vulnerable in a way she’d never dreamed possible as the big man searched her face, his gaze hungry and naked. “Have you decided?”

  Her chest tightened at the spectacle of a man like Viacheslav Alexandrovich Vlasov, a human pit-bull vaccinated against pain and suffering, exposing his jugular for her, Jane Ransom. She registered that the network of silver scars he bore extended all the way up from his lower chest to lick at the base of his throat. Had the carnage extended any higher he would not be here.

  Awe at the fragility binding his powerful form to the world scraped away the last barnacle of her reserve.

  Life was too short to guard the heart.

  She slapped a hand on Slava’s brawny shoulder, touched his warmth and life. “Condoms,” she said, “in my first-aid kit.”

  Slava’s lust-shrouded gaze met hers blankly, as though she’d spoken Swahili.

  She repeated it in Russian, and comprehension dawned, along with dismay on his face. His eyes went to Vlad’s and she tensed. Dear God, don’t let her be holed up with two horny Russian soldier-types who didn’t believe in the use of rubbers.

  Vlad’s hands slipped from her breasts. “Yevo Smazki ?”

  She let out a sigh. Thank god, all they wanted to know was whether she had lubricant to go with the condoms. “In the same kit,” she said.

  Slava shook himself out of his fog to take command. “You shower, Jane, while Vlad gets them.” His voice was low as he added, “And you better be quick with that shower.”

  She looked at the gas heat pump set-up. “Sure it’s safe?”

  He gave her backside a clap. “Don’t worry, Russians are the best engineers in the world. In you go. I’ll start this thing.”

  Anticipation returned at the thought of a genuine hot shower. Body gel hung from the shower head, and shampoo stood on the shelf, an unexpected luxury.

  She took the portable showerhead from Slava and waited. When a spray of warm water hit her waiting breasts she crowed in delight. He laughed, the rare glimpse of his softer side warming her more than heat of the shower.

  As she lathered up with the apple-scented gel, Slava turned off the pump’s tap to conserve the heated water. His expression rapt and unsubtle, he submitted her to microscopic scrutiny. She smiled, closed her eyes to rub in the shampoo and heard the unmistakable sound of a zipper being slid down, followed by the rustle of fabric. Heat, the scent of skin, and pheromones alerted her he was nearby.

  “Rinse me, big boy.”

  His snort made her grin, and then a rush of warm water poured over her crown, cascading over her breasts and running down her legs like a caress. The water stopped and she opened her eyes. Slava held the hose over his head, the dark thatch of his armpit exposed as he rinsed his breath-taking body. Stopping the flow of water, he reached for the shower gel but she snatched it away. Droplets slid down his long, lean cheeks, catching in dark stubble as he stared at her, hazel eyes curious.

  “Allow me.” She pooled a generous amount of gel in her palm and started with his pecs, slicking the soap over both firm mounds, teasing the stiff pellets of his nipples with lazy circles and sliding her slippery fingers over his defined torso. Building an apple-scented lather over the stepping stones of his steely abs, her forearm brushed the swollen head of his rigid erection, forcing a hiss from him.

  “Jane...”

  Electrified by his low, hungry tone, she gripped his hard length, felt it throb as she fisted his hot thickness. His cock was thicker underneath the head than at the base, the smooth, velvety head a contrast to the shaft ridged with veins. The thought of his thick shaft ploughing her cunt made her pussy clench and her thighs stiffen. She rested a hand on his broad chest as she jerked him, watched in wonder as lust rearranged him, hi
s expression shifting from stern authority to helpless vulnerability.

  “Girls and boys, look what Uncle Vlad found.” Vlad paused in the doorframe, a long foil strip of condoms and lubricant dangling from his hand, a grin of triumph on his wolfish face. His grin faltered as his gaze slid to her hand around Slava. Eyes trained on her hand, he wasted little time shucking his clothes and joining them in the now cramped shower.

  She sucked in a breath as he plastered himself to her back, his surging cock nudging the small of her back. With a gentle hand he turned her head to claim her mouth in a hungry kiss. Freshly soaped, she registered the tickle in her nose of mountain dust clinging to his skin. On the surface he tasted minty, like the peppermints she sometimes cadged from him, but underneath laid the taste of raw arousal, a sharp, coppery tang buried in the wet velvet kiss.

  Vlad snaked his other arm around her waist and she absorbed the taboo sensation of being pressed naked between two hard, male bodies, of having one hard, hot cock pressed in her back and another in her hand. Sighing, she rested her head against Vlad’s firm chest while Slava fondled her breasts in his rough, calloused palms.

  The illicit, twin handling fired her blood and kicked her heartbeat up another notch. Being pleasured by two men at once was probably illegal in this part of the world. The Russian word for “forbidden” eluded her lust-addled brain, the more familiar German word Verboten taking its place.

  Spurred by the heady rush of transgression, she turned sideways to take Vlad’s stiff prick in her free hand. She felt his cock’s pulse leap under her hand. Lightly-haired, the trail of golden hairs from pubis to root tickled her arm as she jacked him, forearm muscles clenching to keep him fisted as she pumped her bicep. Head tilting back, Vlad’s mouth fell open in soundless bliss, frustrating her need to hear his groans of satisfaction. She tightened her grip until he moaned for her.

  Savouring her power, she regretted she couldn’t see herself in the mirror, held between two men, a cock in each palm as she stood on the brink of something big.

  ~* * *~

  Vlad saw Slava’s pupils spill wide, the eclipse stealing all but a thin band of hazel.

  His own pupils were no doubt just as fat, and he groaned as Jane jerked him in time with her grip on Slava. The sight of her tiny, pale fist jerking both his and Slava’s angry, red cocks electrified him, brought on even darker urges. But while he could imagine nothing sweeter than Jane feeding on both their pricks at once, he was more eager to taste her, to get inside the tight cunt that had put such a look of ecstasy on Slava’s face when he’d fingered her.

  With gentle insistence he tugged her hands from their cocks, first his and then Slava’s, and filled them with shower gel. Slava rinsed himself, watching them closely, cock still eagerly curved up along his belly. Jane’s brows settled into a frown. “Did I do something wrong?”

  “I don’t want to come on those pretty pink toenails in the shower,” he said. “I want to spill somewhere else.”

  Jane raised her pale brows. “Do I get any say in this?”

  Vlad winked at her. “Of course. Would you prefer to be carried or dragged by your hair to the bedroom?”

  The word “drag” prompted one of his dirtier “Jane fantasies” to flash before his eyes, the one he harboured of taking her for “police” interrogation, Officer Slava cuffing her hands behind her back and both of them applying their side-handle batons in ways outside of their intended use. They made Jane “confess” for hours. In fact, Vlad could use a baton right now, since he hadn’t heard Jane confess what she wanted, and Vlad needed to hear the words, needed to be certain she loved every moment of every filthy thing they did to her.

  Russian Heat

  “Wash me, but hands off my dick or I’ll have to punish you,” he said.

  Her eyes flared, betraying more than casual interest, then her small hands were on his chest, rubbing and sliding, scrabbling over his nipples and then swooping down toward his abs. He couldn’t take it. Presenting his back to her he tried to sound bored. “Be thorough with my back.”

  Silence, a pause, and then her hands lathered his back in broad strokes. His brow wrinkled at the unexpected compliance. From the corner of his eye he caught sight of Slava exiting the bathroom with the condoms and lubricant, and his mind jumped to the bed waiting in the other room, its wrought iron frame offering a world of possibilities.

  A finger slipped between the crevice of his buttocks, probing, and he smirked. There it was--her rebellious streak.

  “Bad girl. Do I need to spank you or are you gonna behave and wash Vlad’s back nicely?”

  The finger retreated, a sigh making his smile broaden as warm water trickled down his spine, caressing his skin. As the flow ceased, he turned, assessed her upturned face and saw what he wanted. Hooded eyes, heavy with longing.

  “Hmmm?”

  “Jane, Jane, Jane,” he said.

  Her name frustrated him. If she had a Russian name, like Ekaterina, he could call her Katenka, the name a playful caress in itself. Sveta, Ninochka, Masha, the intimate names rolled off his tongue easily. He blinked. Perhaps it was a good thing Jane was just “Jane.”

  “What?”

  Her husky voice slayed him when he needed to focus. He rested his hands on her shoulders. “How can we climb in the bunk unless I know your intentions?”

  “Intentions?”

  Did he hear a tad of crankiness at his holding up the show? Good. He stepped into her, backing her up against the tiles, smothering a laugh at her hiss and feeble attempt to push him away. He’d bet those tiles were freezing against her still-wet, rosy skin.

  “Vlad!”

  “Shhh,” he soothed, and buried a hand between her thighs, pinning her to the tiles with a hand on her shoulder as she struggled. As his fingers found her swollen clit, she froze.

  “What I mean is, Slava’s out there waiting, hoping—no praying—that he’s gonna get what he wants tonight, but probably won’t ask for because he doesn’t want to freak you out.”

  He pinched the tiny hood over her hard bundle of nerves and savoured her gasping jerk.

  “What...what would freak me out?”

  “Well, Vlad’s theory of relativity is that one girl’s kink is another girl’s turn-off. It all boils down to what you’re into. So tell me, Jane, what are you into?”

  With a stir of his fingers, he made her whimper.

  “I don’t—”

  “Uh-uh.” Mashing his hand into her clit he forced her to her toes. “‘I don’t know’ is not an acceptable answer from a bright girl like you, but I’ll tell you what. I’ll run through a short-list of possibilities and you squeak if you have a heart-felt objection to any of them.”

  The speech he’d refined in his interrogation fantasies pleased him, as did the gush of arousal flooding his hand. She nodded.

  “Spanking?”

  “Okay, if it’s not too hard.”

  “Just yes or no will do.”

  “Yebar.” Fucker. He could grow addicted to her filthy Russian. He pinched her clit to punish her for making him have the thought and she squirmed.

  “Fisting?”

  “No. Not interested.”

  “Good girl.” He rewarded her honesty with two fingers in her pussy, felt her clench down on them.

  “Restraint?”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Being tied up or held down.”

  “You mean like now?”

  “Smart-ass. And a slow learner. Yes or no?”

  “Yes.”

  “Anal?” He held his breath.

  She looked away and he gave her clit a twist.

  Her gasp made him plant a rough, fierce peck on her mouth and he had to let her catch her breath to answer.

  “I don’t know. I’ve never tried it. I’m not against it. Just, you know, be careful.”

  He nodded. “Ever fucked two guys before?”

  “No!” Her tart denial tickled him.

  “Well, you’re gonna now.” He
eased her back off the tiles and slid his hands around her waist. Lifting her off her feet, he ordered her to wrap her legs around him and almost groaned as her hot, wet core pressed against his middle and the pillow of her breasts rubbed his chest.

  He stroked her back as he turned and carried her towards the bedroom, not caring about the trail of wet footprints he trooped across the apartment. “Anything else particularly wicked and naughty you’d like to try?” he whispered in her ear.

  Her hands stilled their rhythmic clutching at his shoulders. The four words she squeezed out in a halting whisper made his knees buckle slightly and a bead of sweat form on his brow.

  Don’t be too gentle.

  ~* * *~

  Slava held his breath as Vlad lowered himself to the bed, Jane clinging to him, arms around his neck.

  “Take this monkey off me, Slava, she’s strangling me.” Vlad’s smirk was hidden from Jane.

  Mouth curling into a smile, he lifted Jane as she rained a torrent of filthy Russian abuse over Vlad’s head. Propped up on a pile of clean purple pillows, he pulled her back against his chest and breathed in her wet hair, the vanilla scent of her skin asserting itself through the lingering apple soap wash. He clasped her small waist firmly as Vlad gripped her ankles and parted her legs until her feet rested wide apart on the purple bedspread. If only they had a mirror so he could see the exposed pea of pink flesh he’d rubbed and worried with his fingers earlier.

  His hands sought her breasts, fingers skimming the outer arcs with awe as he caught sight of her blue eyes filled with alert expectation, fear nowhere to be seen. This woman bowed to no man or situation. Not even mortars. As soon as his brain laid the thought, the desire to see her bend to his will crowded him. Would she resist long and hard or capitulate fast and sweet? Removing one hand from her breasts, he splayed it over her mouth.

  “Suck my fingers.”