by Anna Zaires
I don’t know why I’m doing this. It’s not like a good meal will suddenly convince Julian to forego the cruel pleasure of getting his hands on Majid. I know my husband well enough to understand that nothing can dissuade him from that. Julian is used to danger. I think he even craves it to some extent. I’m not foolish enough to think that I can domesticate him with one dinner.
Still, I want this evening to be special. I need it to be special. I don’t want to think about terrorists and torture, abduction and mind fuckery. For just one night, I want to pretend that we’re a regular couple, that I’m simply a wife who wants to do something nice for her husband.
Before dinner, I take a shower and blow-dry my long brown hair until it’s smooth and shiny. I even apply a little eyeshadow and lipgloss. I don’t normally put this much effort into my appearance, since Julian is already insatiable as is, but tonight I want to look extra pretty for him. My dress for the evening is a strapless little number, ivory with a black trim at the waist, and my shoes are sexy black peep-toe pumps. Underneath, I’m wearing a black strapless pushup bra and a matching thong, the most wicked lingerie set I have in my wardrobe.
I’m going to seduce Julian tonight, for no other reason other than because I want to.
He gets delayed by some last-minute logistics, so I end up waiting for him at the candle-lit dinner table for a few minutes, anxiety and excitement battling for supremacy in my chest. Anxiety because I feel sick thinking about tomorrow, and excitement because I can’t wait to spend time with Julian.
When he finally walks into the room, I stand up to greet him, and his gaze fastens on me with breathtaking intensity. Stopping a few feet away, he runs his eyes over my body. When he lifts his eyes back to my face, the fire that burns in the blue depths sends an electric tingle straight to my core. A slow, sensual smile curls his lips as he says softly, “You look gorgeous, my pet . . . Absolutely gorgeous.”
A flush of pleasure warms my skin at the compliment. “Thank you,” I whisper, my eyes glued to his face. He changed for dinner as well, putting on a light blue polo shirt and a pair of gray khaki pants that fit his tall, broad-shouldered body like they were made for him. With his dark, lustrous hair back to its former length, Julian can easily pass for a model or a movie star vacationing on a golf resort. My voice sounds breathless as I say, “You look pretty amazing yourself.”
His smile widens as he approaches the table and stops in front of me. “Thank you, baby,” he murmurs, his strong fingers curving around my bare shoulders as he lowers his head and captures my mouth in a deep, yet incredibly tender kiss. I melt on the spot, my neck arching back under the hungry pressure of his lips, and it’s not until Ana pointedly clears her throat behind us that I regain my senses enough to realize that we’re not in our own bedroom. Embarrassed, I push him away, and Julian lets me, releasing me and stepping back with a smile.
“Dinner first, I guess,” he says wryly and, walking around the table, takes a seat across from me.
Ana, her cheeks slightly red, serves us lasagna, pours us each a glass of wine, and disappears before I have a chance to do more than say a quick thank-you.
“Lasagna . . .” Julian sniffs appreciatively at the food. “I can’t remember the last time I had this.”
“Ana told me your mother used to make it for you when you were little,” I say softly, watching as he takes the first bite. “I hope you still like it.”
His eyes lift from his plate, his gaze locking on mine as he chews the food. “You arranged this?” he asks after he swallows, and there is a strange note in his voice. He gestures toward the wine and the candles burning on the outer edges of the table. “It wasn’t Ana who set all of this up?”
“Well, she did all the work,” I admit. “I merely asked her for a few things. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Mind? No, of course not.” His voice still sounds a bit odd, but he doesn’t question me further. Instead he begins to eat in earnest, and the conversation turns to my upcoming exams.
After we’re done with the lasagna, Ana brings out the dessert. It looks as rich and scrumptious as any I’ve seen in an Italian restaurant, and I watch Julian’s reaction as Ana places it on the table in front of him.
If he’s surprised, he doesn’t show it. Instead he gives Ana a warm smile and thanks her for the efforts. It’s not until she leaves the room that he turns to look at me. “A tiramisu?” he says softly, his eyes reflecting the dancing light from the candles. “Why, Nora?”
I shrug. “Why not?”
He studies me for a moment, his gaze unusually thoughtful as it lingers on my face, and I wait for him to press further. But he doesn’t. Instead he picks up his fork. “Why not indeed,” he murmurs and turns his attention to the mouthwatering dessert.
I follow his lead, and soon our plates are all but licked clean.
* * *
When we get upstairs, Julian leads me to the bed. Instead of undressing me right away, however, he captures my face between his palms. “Thank you for a wonderful evening, baby,” he whispers, his eyes dark with some indefinable emotion.
I smile up at him, my hands coming up to rest on his waist. “Of course . . .” My heart feels like it’s about to overflow with happiness. “It’s my pleasure.”
He looks as though he’s about to say something else, but then he just slants his mouth across mine and begins to kiss me with deep, almost desperate passion. My eyes drift shut as pleasure spirals through me. His lips are unbelievably soft, his tongue skillfully caressing mine, and the rich, dark taste of him makes my head spin. As we kiss, his hands slide around my back, pressing me closer to him. The hardness of his erection against my belly sends a spear of heat straight to the center of my sex, and I clutch at his sides, my knees weakening as his lips wander from my mouth to my earlobe and then down to my neck.
“You are so fucking hot,” he mutters thickly. His breath almost burns my sensitive skin, and I moan, my head falling back as he arches me over his arm to nibble at the tender area just above my collarbone. My nipples tighten, and my sex begins to ache with the familiar pulsing tension as Julian licks my skin, then blows cool air over the wet spot, sending erotic chills all over my body.
Before I can recover, he tugs me upright, spinning me around so that I’m standing with my back to him. Then his hands are on the back of my dress, pulling down the zipper. The little dress falls to the floor, leaving me wearing nothing but my black heels, push-up bra, and thong.
Julian sucks in an audible breath, and I turn around, giving him a slow, teasing smile. “You like?” I murmur, taking a couple of steps back to give him a better view. The expression on his face makes my pulse quicken with excitement. He’s looking at me like a starving man looks at a piece of cake, with agonized longing and naked lust. His eyes say that he wants to devour me and savor me at the same time . . . that I’m the hottest woman he’s ever seen in his life.
Instead of answering, he steps toward me and reaches behind my back to unhook my bra. As soon as my breasts are free, he covers them with his warm palms, his thumbs rasping across my hardened nipples. “You are fucking exquisite,” he whispers roughly, staring down at me, and I draw in a shaky breath, his words and the touch of his hands making my insides quiver. “You’re all I can think about, Nora . . . all I can focus on . . .”
His confession turns my bones to jelly. The knowledge that I have this effect on him—that this powerful, dangerous man is just as consumed by me as I am by him—makes my heart pound in a wild, erratic rhythm. Regardless of how it all began, Julian is now mine, and I want him as much as he wants me.
Emboldened, I wrap my arms around his neck and pull his head down toward me. As our lips meet, I put everything I have into that kiss, letting him feel how much I need him, how much I love him. My hands slide into his thick, silky hair as his arms close around my back, pressing me against him, and my peaked nipples rub against the ribbed cotton of his shirt, reminding me of the tantalizing contrast between my near-nake
dness and his clothed state. His hard erection pushes into my belly, and the heat within me spikes as our mouths mesh in a symphony of lust, coming together with explosive yearning.
I’m not sure how we end up on the bed, but I find myself there, my hands frantically tearing at Julian’s clothes as he rains hot kisses on my chest and stomach. His hand closes around my thong, ripping it off with a single motion, and then his fingers push into my opening, two big fingers penetrating me with a roughness that makes me gasp and arch against him. “You’re so fucking wet,” he growls, thrusting his fingers deeper into me before pulling them out and bringing them to my face. “Taste how much you want me.”
Unbearably aroused, I close my lips around his fingers, sucking them into my mouth. They’re coated with my moisture, but the taste doesn’t repel me. If anything, it turns me on, makes me burn even hotter. Julian groans as I suck on his fingers, swirling my tongue around them as if they were his cock, and then he pulls his hand away. Rearing up, he pulls his shirt over his head with a single motion, exposing the rippling muscles underneath. His pants are next, and I catch a brief glimpse of his erection before he climbs on top of me, his powerful hands grabbing my wrists and pinning them next to my shoulders. Then his eyes lock on mine, and he pushes my thighs apart with his knees, pressing the head of his cock against my opening.
My heart thrumming with anticipation, I hold his gaze. His face is taut with lust, his jaw clenched tight as he slowly penetrates me. I expected him to take me roughly, but he’s careful tonight, working his thick cock into me with a deliberateness that’s both arousing and frustrating. There’s no pain as my body stretches to accept him, only pleasurable fullness, but some sick part of me now wants the roughness, the violence.
“Julian . . .” I run my tongue over my lips. “I want you to fuck me. Really fuck me.” To emphasize my request, I wrap my legs around his hips, pulling him all the way into me. We both groan at the intense sensation, and I see his pupils dilating until only a thin rim of blue remains around the black circle.
“You want me to fuck you?” His voice is guttural, so filled with hunger that I can barely make out the words. His hands tighten on my wrists, almost cutting off my circulation. “To really fuck you?”
I nod, my pulse somewhere in the stratosphere. It still feels wrong to admit this about myself, to acknowledge that I need something I once dreaded.
To know that I’m asking my kidnapper to abuse me.
Julian inhales sharply, and I can feel the dam of his control cracking. His mouth descends on mine, his lips and tongue now savage, almost vicious. This kiss devours me, steals my breath and soul. At the same time, his cock withdraws from me nearly all the way and then slams back in with a hard, brutal thrust that splits me in half—and sets my nerve endings on fire.
I cry out into his mouth, my legs wrapping tighter around his firm, muscled ass as he begins to fuck me without restraint. It’s a possession as violent as any rape, but I revel in it, my body loving the ferocious assault. It’s what I want now, what I need. I may have bruises tomorrow, but for the moment, all I can feel is the massive tension gathering within me, the pressure coiling deep within my sex. Each ruthless thrust winds me tighter and tighter, until I feel like I will shatter . . . and then I do, an explosion of pleasure rocketing through my body as I fly apart in Julian’s arms, utterly swamped by the dark bliss.
He comes then too, his head thrown back in pained ecstasy, each muscle in his neck tightly corded as he grinds his cock deeper into me with a harsh cry. The pressure of his groin against my clit prolongs my contractions, wringing every drop of sensation from my body, leaching all remnants of strength from my muscles.
In the aftermath, he rolls off me and gathers me against him, cradling me from behind. And as our breathing begins to slow, we drift off into a deep and dreamless sleep.
Chapter 20
Julian
The next morning I wake up before Nora, as usual. She’s sleeping in her favorite position: draped across my chest, one of her legs resting on top of mine. Quietly extricating myself from her, I head into the shower, trying not to think of the temptation of her sexy little body lying there, all soft and warm from sleep. It’s unfortunate, but I don’t have time to sate myself with her this morning; the plane is already waiting for me on the landing strip.
She managed to surprise me last night. All week long I’d sensed a slight, almost imperceptible distance from her. I may have broken through her barriers that night, but she rebuilt them to a small degree. She hadn’t been pouting or giving me the silent treatment, but I could tell that she hadn’t fully forgiven me either.
Until last evening.
I thought I didn’t need her forgiveness, but the light, almost euphoric feeling in my chest today says otherwise.
My shower takes less than five minutes. Once I’m dressed and ready to go, I walk over to the bed to give Nora a kiss before I leave. Leaning over her, I brush my lips against her cheek, and in that moment, her eyes flutter open.
Her lips curve upward in a sleepy smile. “Hi . . .”
“Hi yourself,” I say huskily, reaching over with my hand to brush a tangled strand of hair off her face. Fuck, she does things to me. Things that no small girl should be able to do. I’m about to finally get revenge on the man who killed Beth and stole Nora from me, and all I can think about is climbing back into bed with her.
She blinks a few times, and I see her smile fading as she remembers that today is not just any morning. All traces of sleepiness disappear from her face as she sits up and stares at me, heedless of the blanket falling down and exposing her naked torso.
“You’re leaving already?”
“Yes, baby.” Trying to keep my eyes off her round, perky breasts, I sit down on the bed next to her and clasp her hand between both of my palms, rubbing it softly. “The plane is already fueled up and waiting for me.”
She swallows. “When are you going to be back?”
“If all goes well, in about a week. I have to meet with a couple of officials in Russia first, so I won’t get to Tajikistan right away.”
“Russia? Why?” A small frown bisects her forehead. “I thought you were going to take care of some business in Ukraine on your way back.”
“I was, but things changed. Yesterday afternoon I received a call from one of Peter’s contacts in Moscow. They want me to meet with them first, or else they won’t let us get to Tajikistan.”
“Oh.” Nora looks even more concerned now, her frown deepening. “Do you know why?”
I have some suspicions, but none that I want to share with her at the moment. She’s far too worried as is. Russians have always been unpredictable, and the increasingly volatile situation in that region doesn’t help matters.
“I’ve had some interactions with them in the past,” I say noncommittally, and get up before she has a chance to question me further. “I have to go now, baby, but I’ll see you in a few days. Good luck with your tests, okay?”
She nods, her eyes suspiciously bright as she looks at me, and unable to resist, I bend down and kiss her one last time before walking out of the room.
* * *
Moscow in March is colder than a witch’s tit. The cold seeps through my thick layers of clothing and settles deep within my bones, making me feel as if I’ll never get warm again. I have never particularly liked Russia, and this visit only solidifies my negative opinion of the place.
Freezing. Dirty. Corrupt.
I can deal with the last two, but all three combined is too much. No wonder Peter was glad to remain behind to watch the compound. The bastard knew exactly what I would be getting into. I could see the smirk on his face as he watched the plane take off. After the tropical heat of the jungle, the bone-chilling temperatures of Moscow in the last grip of winter feel downright painful—as do my negotiations with the Russian government.
It takes nearly an hour, ten different appetizers, and half a bottle of vodka before Buschekov gets to the point of the me
eting. The only reason I tolerate this is because it takes about this long for my feet to defrost from the sub-zero chill outside. The traffic on the way to the restaurant was so bad that Lucas and I ended up getting out of the car and walking eight blocks, freezing our asses off in the process.
Now, however, I’m finally able to move my toes—and Buschekov seems ready to talk business. He’s one of the unofficial officials here: a person who wields significant influence in the Kremlin, but whose name never comes up on the news.
“I have a delicate matter I’d like to discuss with you,” Buschekov says after the waiter clears off some of the empty platters. Or, rather, our interpreter says that after Buschekov says something in Russian. Since neither Lucas nor I understand more than a few words of the language, Buschekov hired a young woman to translate for us. Pretty, blond, and blue-eyed, Yulia Tzakova looks to be only a couple of years older than my Nora, but the Russian official assured me that the girl knows how to be discreet.
“Go on,” I say in response to Buschekov’s statement. Lucas sits next to me, silently consuming his second serving of caviar-stuffed blinis. He’s the only one I brought with me to this meeting. The rest of my men are stationed nearby in case of any difficulties. I doubt the Russians will try anything at the moment, but one can never be too cautious.
Buschekov gives me a thin-lipped smile and responds in Russian.
“I’m sure you are aware of the difficulties in our region,” Yulia translates. “We would like you to assist us in resolving this matter.”
“Assist you how?” I have a good idea of what the Russians want, but I still want to hear him lay it all out.
“There are certain parts of Ukraine that need our help,” Yulia says in English after Buschekov answers. “But, world opinion being what it is right now, it would be problematic if we went in and actually gave that help.”