Primal: London Mob Book Two

by Michelle St. James

  He leaned back, his gaze piercing through every defense she’d ever laid against him. It was the gaze of someone who knew her. Who loved her.

  Who would die for her.

  There was a time not very long ago when that would have scared her. But that was before. Before she realized how very dangerous the world was, and how that danger could come from unexpected places. It was before she’d held their sweet daughter against her leg and prayed that she would live to make it out of that alley. Before she’d left Erik Karlsen to die, knowing Lieve would be orphaned because of the men who wouldn’t stop coming for them.

  Maybe it was the wine. Maybe it was the crisp sea air. Maybe it was just reality.

  But now she understood. Farrell had been right all along. Some people didn’t play by the rules, and when those people came for you, you couldn’t play by the rules either.

  Not if you wanted to live.

  I think you’ve been holding things together so long, you’re secretly afraid of what will happen if you let it all go.

  Kate had been right. But now Jenna was ready to let it go.

  Something quiet and sacred passed between them. It was borne of all the things that had threatened their love, everything that might have kept them apart but instead brought them together. It was the knowledge that when everything else fell away, their love was still strong and true.

  That it always would be.

  The moment stretched, long and heavy between them, a world of thought and hope and regret. Finally he stood, held out his hand.

  “Come to bed, my love.”

  33

  He led her through the tall grass, back to the house, light glowing faintly from its windows. Her heart hammered in her chest as they made their way up the stairs to the sleeping loft. She had the sense that they were crossing a barrier, one that had haunted them for over five long years.

  It was the barrier of doubt. The knowledge that Jenna would never be able to reconcile Farrell’s lifestyle against the life she’d imagined for herself. For Lily. Now she knew there was only one life for the both of them.

  A life with him. Whatever that meant. Whatever it brought.

  They stood in front of the window, the moonlight shining a pillar of light over the sea in the distance as Farrell ran his hands up her arms, then cradled her neck in his hands. In the past it might have been sexual, maybe even aggressive. Now she only felt his possession. His determination to keep her safe.

  To make her his once and for all.

  “Are you sure?”

  He asked the question like he was privy to her innermost thoughts. Like he had been listening to the internal argument that had haunted her since she left his key in his apartment before she went to New York, pregnant and alone. Like she’d spoken aloud when they were laying by the sea.

  She reached under his shirt, let her palms run over the corded ridge of his abs, up the peaks of his sculpted chest. “I’m sure.”

  He closed his eyes as she rolled his nipples between her fingers. “What if you change your mind?”

  She lifted his shirt, kissed him gently in the place that protected his heart. That had tried to protect it from her. She would do that job now.

  “I’m not going to change my mind.”

  She left tiny kisses across his chest before lifting the shirt over his head. Then he was bare in front of her, like a Greek god, as perfect as if he’d been cast from marble, his chest wide and strong, broad shoulders giving way to the chiseled muscle of his biceps. They were arms that could hold her as gently as a baby bird. Arms that could end a man in one swift movement. Arms that would do anything to protect her and Lily.

  Moisture rushed to the cleft between her thighs, and this time she didn’t try to deny the power of his strength. Didn’t try to deny that some of her love and lust for him wasn’t in spite of the dark, dangerous part of her as she once thought, but because of it.

  She slid her hands down his chest and reached for his zipper. It was as far as she got before he growled, shoving her hands away as he lifted her shirt over her head. He was back in control. Just the way he liked it.

  And the way she liked it, too.

  She could finally admit it, and she submitted willingly, standing before him as he undid her jeans, pushed them down her hips until she was standing in nothing but her bra and underwear. He paced the floor in front of her, his eyes stormy. She tried to read the feeling in them but only came up with flashes.

  Need.

  Possession.

  Control.

  She quivered in front of him, her body alight with desire, like someone had lit a match to a fuse that ran just under the surface of her skin. She wanted to reach for him, slip her hands into his jeans, take his cock in her hand. She waited instead, wanting to give him everything. Wanting to give him everything he’d given her.

  Finally he stepped toward her, pushed his hands violently into the hair at the back of her head, tugging until she was looking up at him, her neck exposed. His eyes raked her face, scanning for something she couldn’t name until he shook his head.

  “This is it, Jenna. You let me take you, it’s forever.” There was a warning in his voice. “No more indecision. No more running. Just you and me.”

  “So take me,” she said.

  He bent his head to capture her mouth in a kiss so forceful, so urgent, his tongue was an invasion. She wrapped her hands around his neck, molding her body to his, fitting her curves into his valleys until there was nothing but the heat of his skin against her own.

  He tugged at her hair, forcing her head back so he could take the kiss deeper, mining every inch of her mouth like it was the first time he’d tasted her. She responded in kind, meeting every thrust of his tongue with one of her own, nibbling at his bottom lip until he groaned, reached back to undo her bra.

  He pushed it off her shoulders in one sweep, giving himself a second to look longingly at her breasts, full and tight with the need to feel his mouth on her nipples, before taking them in his hands, thumbing her nipples as he worked his way down her neck. She was on fire, every nerve in her body crackling like a live wire as he dipped his tongue into the hollow of her throat.

  Her head fell back, and she felt her hair brush against her ass as he moved his mouth down to one of the nipples.

  “You’re so fucking beautiful, Jenna,” he murmured. “So fucking beautiful.”

  He closed his mouth over her nipple and a lick of white hot heat bolted to her center. She gasped as he sucked, pulling the little bud to a peak before raking it with his teeth.

  His hand slid down her stomach, slipped into her panties. She opened her legs a little, desperate to feel his fingers inside her.

  “Such a naughty girl,” he chuckled against her breast, his breath a tantalizing whisper against her erect nipple. “I love it when you’re naughty.”

  She moaned as he slipped his fingers past her clit, slid the, between her slippery folds.

  “You’re so wet for me. I’m going to fuck that pussy so hard you’re never going to forget you’re mine again.”

  “Yes…”

  He slid his fingers in nice and slow while he sucked on her nipple. She could already feel the orgasm building at her center, and she pushed it away, not wanting it yet. Wanting to savor the climb with him.

  “Let me taste you,” she said.

  He moved back up to her lips, still stroking her with his fingers, and spoke against her mouth. “I make the rules, Jenna. You know that.”

  He kissed her, long and deep, and the sensation of his tongue in her mouth coupled with his fingers inside her made her feel like she was falling through an abyss. There was nothing but his mouth. His fingers. His body.

  He set up a rhythm with his fingers, fucking her with them until she was moving with him, reaching for her orgasm in spite of herself. She was almost there, almost to the top of the mountain, when he removed his fingers.

  “Not yet.”

  She stifled a groan as he moved her over
to the bed. “On all fours, Jenna.”

  She got on the bed, her body already anticipating what was to come as she kneeled, spread her legs, waited for him to come behind her. She was desperate for his cock, desperate for him to fill her. She didn’t want foreplay. She wanted him sinking into her, his body slapping hers furiously as he fucked her hard and fast.

  But Farrell never gave her what she wanted right away. He made her work for it.

  Made her wait for it.

  She was still waiting she she heard his pants hit the floor. Then he was sliding under her, moving between her thighs until his face was under her pussy. She was breathing hard now, knowing what was coming, trying to resist the urge to lower herself onto his mouth.

  Waiting. Always waiting.

  It might have been mean if it didn’t feel so good.

  He licked along the fleshy part of her inner thigh, working his way toward her center. She let her head hang forward, her hair a curtain blocking out everything but the sensation of Farrell reaching up, pulling aside her panties with his fingers, exposing her heat to the cool night air blowing in from the open window.

  “God, your pussy is perfect,” he murmured, grabbing hold of her thighs. He adjusted a little, then pulled her down until she felt the heat of his tongue flick through the soaking petals of her sex.

  She moaned, and his chuckle was low and deep. “You want me to eat it?”

  “Yes, please…”

  His voice turned dark, forceful. “Don’t be coy, Jenna. Tell me what you want.”

  “I want you to eat my pussy.”

  The heat of his mouth closed around her a second later. He took all of it, his tongue working through her folds on the way to her clit. She rocked back a little, instinctively giving him better access as he slipped his fingers inside her, moved his mouth to her clit.

  He flicked it softly with his tongue, just enough to make her move her hips in a silent bid for more. He lapped carefully and slowly in the moments before he closed his mouth around it and sucked.

  She cried out, rocking her hips against his mouth, pushing down, wanting him to take all of her as he fucked her with his fingers in time to the movements of his mouth on her clit.

  “God, Farrell…” she croaked, barely able to make sense of the words in her head.

  Lick me.

  Take me.

  Fuck me.

  She wanted it all. And she wanted all of him.

  She couldn’t see his face, but the soft scratch of his whiskers against her thighs coupled with the movements of his fingers and mouth created an erotic kind of mystery, and she closed her eyes, let herself fall into the sensations. She rocked her hips against his mouth as his fingers moved faster. As his mouth sucked harder on her clit.

  The orgasm wasn’t a slow build; it was a rogue wave that had been building out of sight, far out to sea.

  “Oh, god,” she said. “I’m going to come.”

  And then she was releasing not only the passion that seemed to build endlessly for him, but everything she’d held back from him, all the fear that had kept them apart. She was his, and she was coming apart in his hands, finally trusting him to put her back together again when it was all over.

  He pulled on her thighs, pushing her sex all the way onto his mouth, taking all of her in his mouth, still moving his fingers inside her, not letting up on her clit as her body convulsed again and again. She was lost to the sea of her passion. Lost to everything but the feel of his mouth on her and the way he worked her body like he owned it.

  When it was over, she hung her head, her body threatening to go limp. He slid up on the bed until she was straddling him, then leaned up, kissed her hard and full so she could taste her juices on his mouth.

  He lay back down. “You’re in charge now, Jenna. So fuck me.”

  The words sent a fresh surge of heat to her already engorged center, and she positioned the thick head of his cock at her entrance, wetting it by sliding it between her folds.

  “Ah, Jenna,” he said. “You do like being in control sometimes, don’t you?”

  She answered him by sliding onto him in one motion, letting his cock fill her channel, push up against the top of her womb as she ground down on him, her head tipped back, hair brushing against his thighs.

  She held still for a minute, letting her body stretch, opening to him bit by bit, taking every inch of his massive cock. Then she started to move, grinding her hips against his in a rhythm she knew in her bones.

  He reached up, cupped her breasts, pinched the nipples as she leaned back in an effort to take him deeper. She looked down, watching his body join with hers in a display every bit as erotic as the one she’d witnessed in the red light district. This was Farrell’s body. Hers.

  Together as they should have been all along.

  He grabbed onto her hips, rising to meet her, pushing into her at a faster pace, readying for his own release. She leaned forward, letting the friction of their bodies spark a fire in her clit that spread outward, through her sex, into the rest of her body, radiating outward to her fingers and toes.

  He was driving into her now, and she could see the control it took for him to stay under her. He wanted to flip her onto the bed, spread her legs wide, hook them over his shoulders, take her his way. He was letting her have this moment, showing her that she wouldn't be powerless against him unless she wanted to be.

  And right now she didn’t. The power of riding him, of controlling how fast and how deep he invaded her made her giddy with a kind of euphoria, and she moved faster, lifting off his cock until he was barely in her, then pushing down on him again and again, rocking her hips against his, rubbing her clit against him in search of the orgasm that was starting to close in around the edges of her vision.

  “That’s right, Jenna,” Farrell said. “Come for me.”

  The words pushed her the last remaining steps. For a moment, she felt suspended, her body floating somewhere between tension and release, between need and satiation. Then she was stepping over the edge, falling into the sea of their passion as Farrell groaned long and loud, releasing himself into her with vicious thrusts that might have felt like they would tear her apart if only they didn’t bring her so close to ecstasy.

  He pumped and thrust as she continued to move, squeezing every last drop from his cock, wanting all of it.

  All of him.

  When he stopped moving, she collapsed on top of him, breathless and limp. They were both silent except for the sound of their ragged breath. She didn’t know how much time passed before he flipped her onto the bed next to him, pulled her into the crook of his arm.

  He kissed her head, smoothed her hair. “Mine.”

  She smiled against his chest. “Yours.”

  34

  He lay with her long after she fell asleep, her breath soft against his bare chest. He didn’t dare move. She was here, in his arms. His forever to hear her tell it.

  He didn’t know what had prompted her change of heart. What had made her throw caution to the wind. Had it been the threat against her and Lily in the alley? The invasion at Erik Karlsen’s cabin? Or had it started long ago, when she realized Alex Petrov had killed her father to retrieve the research papers?

  Maybe all of it, and while he hated that she had lost that part of herself, the part that still believed being good was the best way to combat evil, he was relieved. There were no secrets between them now.

  She knew everything. Knew him to his bones and still wanted him.

  But he had work to do. Still needed to eliminate the threat against her by figuring out who was behind the Marburg research.

  And this time he would go to them.

  He eased himself out from under her body. For a moment, all he could do was look at her, splayed out, naked in the moonlight. She was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. He would do anything to protect her — anything to protect their daughter.

  He made his way downstairs and made coffee while the encrypted computer Leo had given
him booted up. When it was done, he sat at the tiny dining table and pulled out Erik Karlsen’s file. Then he went to work, digging through page after page of search results to find out information about the shell companies that had wired money to the Stafford Institute, tracing them back and back, trying to make connections that might lead him to another clue. It was tedious work, and he logged onto the private network he used for business and fed pieces of information to several hackers he used for such tasks, careful to dole out small bits to each one. It was the only way to insure one of them didn’t get curious and start digging around on their own.

  The sun was lighting the sky by the time he looked up, realizing his coffee was cold. He sat back in his chair and closed his eyes, already planning his next move with the precious little information he’d been able to glean from the night’s work.

  “Did you sleep?”

  Jenna’s voice pulled him from his thoughts, and he opened his eyes to find her entering the room on bare feet, clad only in his T-shirt from the night before.

  “Not really,” he said. “Wanted to work on the wire transfers.”

  She came over to him, straddled him in the chair. The heat from her pussy against his jeans combined with the feel of her bare ass in his hands to make his cock lurch to attention.

  She leaned her head on his shoulder. “Did you find anything?”

  “Not much,” he admitted. “I was only able to trace one of the companies back far enough to find what might be an address for their headquarters.”

  “Might be?”

  “Could be a fake,” Farrell said. “But you never know.”

  “Where is it?” she asked.

  “Paris.”

  She turned her head to look at him. “We’re going to Paris?”

  He sighed. “I’m going to Paris. You should go back to Italy with Lily and Kate, let me take care of this from here on out.”

  She sat up, her eyes flashing. “You’re in this because of me.”