“I can smell your arousal, duchess.”
“Drop that stupid nickname or I’m . . . Oh, God . . .” He just tongued her through the thin material.
“I’m going to fuck you with my tongue until you scream.”
Marissa’s anger leaked out as Viktor continued his dirty talk. Telling her how he intended to make it up to her, how he was going to worship every inch of her.
He shoved the long skirt up and disappeared under it. Shifting one leg over his shoulder, she could feel him biting the inside of her thigh, brushing his nose only so slightly over the mound between her legs. She was certain that she was already drenched.
“What are you doing?” she squeaked. His hands squeezed her thighs in warning. Then his fingers nudged the scrap of silk out of the way and he began to lick her. Gently at first, just sliding his tongue right at the seam of her sex, and then growling, he parted her folds and started using both his tongue and mouth, alternately licking her opening and circling or sucking her clit. The pressure building between her thighs suddenly exploded. She was sure she had drowned Viktor with her orgasm, but he continued to wring it out of her.
Strength left her legs, but he propped her up, mumbling incoherently against her pussy, he continued to eat her like a man denied sustenance for too long. She watched his head move under her skirt, worried that he would suffocate underneath all that fabric, but he continued to lick her, even when her orgasm left her.
She wanted something else altogether now. She wanted his cock. A long wet ride on his big, gorgeous cock.
“Viktor—”
He groaned something like “A little more.”
The throbbing between her legs became incessant, she wanted him to pound into her.
“Viktor—”
His head suddenly appeared, and he was kissing her. His mouth, wet with her essence, devoured her lips. He yanked her hair down almost painfully. “Can’t get enough of you. I—love—your taste.” He was kissing her neck, nipping her, rubbing his erection against her stomach. His hands went under her skirt again and yanked her thong off and brought it up near her face.
“Smell yourself, Iz. That smell drives me crazy.” He pocketed her underwear, unbuckled his belt, and pulled down his zipper.
“This is going to be quick,” he grunted against her neck. “I’m so hard for you. I could drill into concrete.”
Her laughter was cut short when he lifted her legs around him, cupping her ass. His erection claimed her in one vigorous up-thrust. He stilled for a moment to let her get used to his size. He trailed his lips on her jaw before taking her in a deep, tongue-tangling kiss.
Then he began to move.
Slow measured strokes.
Each thrust slamming her back against the wall. Her hands gripped his shoulders, feeling the muscles bunching under her fingers. He continued to kiss her, a rumble resonating deep in his throat with each grind of his hips. Her deep-bellied need escalated, pulsing for release.
“Grip me with your legs,” he ordered. When she did, he wrapped one arm around her body and with the other braced against the wall, he increased his rhythm, pounding into her in earnest now. She could feel the girth and length of his cock stroking every crevice of her sex, exciting her bundle of nerves to an excruciating peak until she came apart. Coming so hard, she was sure she could never reach such heights again. Pulsing waves of pleasure twitched between her legs. Viktor tore his lips away from her and stared down at her as she found her release.
“You’re so beautiful, kitten. Love watching you—”
Her inner muscles clamped down on him.
“Fuuuuuck!” He unleashed a string of expletives as he buried his face into her neck. Hammering into her, his own climax following her own. He shoved inside her and stilled, spilling his cum. He spasmed several times, breathing hard.
Viktor threaded his fingers through her hair. They were both covered in a sheen of sweat. Sex sweat, the kind that just rises ever so slightly from the pores, but shrouds you in that pleasing afterglow.
“I hope I’ve regained those points,” Viktor murmured against her lips.
“Hmm . . . you’re probably a seven . . . ow.” He slapped her ass. “You’re a ten!” she laughed as he scooped her up in his arms and carried her to bed.
He took off his jeans and shirt, and stretched out beside her.
“I was an ass earlier,” he muttered. “But you’re stuck with me, Iz. You belong to me and no one can get rid of me. Not your brother, not your parents, not even you.”
“Strong words, Viktor,” Marissa said lightly, but her heart was pounding. Tell me you love me, she wanted to say, so I can say it back.
But he didn’t. And Marissa figured, she’d have to wait a little longer to tell him what she really felt for him.
*****
Marissa was lying on top of him. He’d just woken her with his tongue and fucked her very slowly. He savored her softness, her addictive heat gripping him like a silken glove, and her heady scent that was uniquely her. He managed to coax her back to his loft yesterday, leaving the mess of her row house behind. He told her he’d get someone to clean it up since he created the mess.
It was a Sunday morning, and this was a rare occasion to be lounging around in bed, with no crisis or city to save from terrorists.
Viktor didn’t know what to do with himself. On days like this, he’d usually run a half-marathon or go into AGS and just work on cases. Yes, he’d had a pretty shitty personal life and he’d been fine with it, but now that he had Marissa, he wondered if he should be doing more.
He gritted his teeth as he remembered his conversation with Trent. Doing more. Like taking Marissa on a proper date. He trailed his fingers absently on her upper arm.
“What do you want to do today, kitten?” he murmured against her hair.
She stiffened, pushed away, and peered down at him. “What do you mean? Don’t you have to go in to AGS?”
“Nope. All yours, baby.”
Her expression hazed in confusion. Not uttering a word, she got up and went to the bathroom.
What the fuck just happened? Viktor thought irritably. What the hell did he say?
Muttering about complicated women, he followed Marissa into the bathroom. She was brushing her teeth, regarding a spot on the wall with intense contemplation. Sighing, Viktor did the same, the whir of electronic toothbrushes the only sound in the room.
She finished, wiped her face on the towel, and walked out.
Reaching the end of his patience, he quickly rinsed his mouth and stalked out after her.
“What did I say wrong?” he asked when he caught up with her in the kitchen.
“I don’t know how to deal with this new side of you,” Marissa said. “First, you agree so readily to have dinner at my parents and now this. It’s almost like you’re about to ask me to do normal couple things.”
“Aren’t we a fucking couple?”
Marissa quirked her brow. “Fucking couple is appropriate.”
“Shit!” Viktor raked his fingers through his hair. “That’s not what I meant and you know it. Do you think for a second that sex is all I want from you?”
“Of course not,” Marissa said. “When we got together, we never had the chance to do regular couple things—”
“Like dating—”
“Or just hanging out,” Marissa said. “We’re always investigating new leads or battling a life or death situation. We have sex when we’re coming down from a high of adrenalin. And now you ask me what to do when I’m all relaxed—I have no idea.”
“We have to start somewhere.”
“But I know you don’t do these things. I don’t want to change you, Viktor. I accept the man you are. You don’t have to buy me flowers or take me to nice dinners.”
“Are you sure?” Viktor asked sarcastically. “Because your brother thinks otherwise. Part of me agrees with him that you’re not cut out for someone like me. But damn it, the bigger part of me knows that I could make you ha
ppy.”
“And you do.” Marissa stepped toward him and put a hand on his jaw tenderly. He could see in her eyes that she meant it, and that only pissed him off more.
“How? Getting you off on the thrill of a mission or just plain getting you off in bed?” He backed away. He knew he was getting worked up over nothing. Why rock the boat when everything was working? But he was in this with her for the long haul. He wanted forever with her.
“That was crude,” Marissa snapped, crossing her arms in front of her, a sure sign of her growing temper.
“So do this normal shit with me,” Viktor demanded with a wave of his hand.
“Okay. Are you willing to go to the mall?” Marissa asked.
“What?”
“Mall,” Marissa repeated impatiently. “Shopping.”
“Can’t you get everything online nowadays?”
Marissa rolled her eyes. “See. First suggestion and you’re weaselling your way out.”
“I don’t think I’m the only man who hates shopping. We can go out to dinner.”
“Steak house? Jacket required?”
Viktor scowled. “Meet me halfway here, Marissa.”
And then he realized she was teasing. He caught her around the waist and hauled her up against him. “We could go running together,” he suggested against her lips.
“Only you would consider that quality time or dating,” Marissa retorted. “Look, frankly, I think you grill tastier steaks than anything I’ve ever had at any restaurant. All the food you’ve had delivered here is top-notch. I’m getting used to your little repertoire of home cooking. I only suggest that you lay off the butter and use more olive oil or my thighs will hate you.”
“I love every part of your body.” His voice had turned husky, his eyes taking in her delicious, lithe form. “You’re perfect, Iz. Perfect for me.”
He teased her lips into a gentle kiss.
“I don’t want you changing either,” Viktor said softly when he stopped nibbling at her lips. “I like you in your classy getups and suits, especially when you wear those stockings and garter shit. I like the smell of your fancy soap. And I want you to officially move in with me.”
She gasped at his last statement.
“Hear me out,” Viktor continued quickly. “My place is safer. I know you hate how it’s furnished, so I’m giving you free rein to do what you want. Just don’t put damned drapes on the windows, and I’ll be okay.”
“Darn, and I just lost my antique table and china cabinet.”
Viktor silently thanked whatever gods were responsible for his luck.
“Is that a yes?”
“I’m practically living here anyway,” Marissa said. “I don’t want to give up my row house though. It took me forever to score that property.”
“I don’t like the idea.”
“Viktor, I need a place I can call my own.”
“Why? So you can leave whenever you’re pissed at me?”
“Now that you mention it, maybe.”
That really pissed him off, but he managed to keep his tone level. “I don’t think I’ve made myself clear enough. So I’m spelling it out for you.” He ignored her squinting eyes and continued. “What we have is not a temporary hook up. You’re my woman. I take care of what’s mine. The roof over your head. What you eat. Hell, I’ll buy you all your fancy clothes and soap. I don’t want you to have too many options, like a row house you can retreat to when you’ve got something up your ass.” She sputtered at this, but he continued speaking over her. “When you’re horny and need some fucking—my tongue and my dick are your one and only option. I want to be your one and final option for everything you need.”
Viktor noted with satisfaction when Marissa’s eyes gradually widened. Of course she had to lick her lips when he mentioned fucking her with his tongue. He knew she loved his oral skills, and just the thought of burying his face between her creamy thighs was making him hard. But he had to make it clear that his cock came with a ball and chain. She wanted his dick, the rest of the man came with it—warts and all. She would be forever his, with no fucking escape clause.
“Um . . . that’s a tempting proposition but—”
Her indecision snapped his control.
“I’m fucking in love with you, woman,” he roared. “Do I have to spell it out any clearer than that?”
The tension that bristled close to her skin and held her stubborn stance all through this discussion evaporated. Her eyes filled with emotion as she whispered tremulously, “I love you too, Viktor.”
His eyes closed. This was it. He searched deep inside himself and his heart was bursting with the words he had denied saying with conviction for so long.
He gripped the back of her neck and drew her close to him. His forehead dropped to hers. “Fuck, Marissa. I love you. I love you . . .”
He whispered the words over and over like a chant, as he pressed kisses on her face like a benediction.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
It wasn’t too hard to get a man like Viktor to the mall, but good luck with having him try on anything. Marissa went through his closet to find something suitable for dinner at her parents. Some slacks with a nice sweater would do, but none could be found. He had several suits and a tuxedo, which were too formal. That’s when she told him they were definitely going to go shopping. He simply shrugged.
When they arrived at one of her favorite boutiques, and after holding up several sweaters against a scowling man, Marissa decided that this simply wouldn’t work. Too much raw energy was bouncing off this guy, and he wasn’t meant to be stuffed in something as tame as a sweater. She needed to think outside the confines of her snobby family and consider clothes that Viktor would feel comfortable wearing.
Jeans. Yes. Her man agreed. He raised a brow at the four-hundred dollar price tag, but knew better than to argue and simply grunted.
So now, they’d entered the gated community of her parents’ house in Bethesda, Maryland. Viktor rolled Marissa’s new BMW behind the latest model Porsche Cayenne Turbo S, what looked to be Trent’s ride. Her parents’ nine-thousand-square-foot brownstone mansion was all lit up, and Marissa prayed that it was only the small crowd her mother had promised.
Viktor got out of the car and walked over to her side to open her door. Marissa was wearing a black tulip blouse over cream silk pants. Her hair was piled in a high knot, with tendrils framing her face.
“You look extremely edible,” he murmured, pressing his mouth to the side of her head.
“You clean up nicely yourself.” Viktor was wearing a white-dress shirt tucked into indigo jeans in an elegant wash. Over this he wore a caramel tweed coat. The whole look enhanced his European ancestry and the best part was, he looked very relaxed. Sometimes she wondered if he was just pretending to hate dressing up. After all, he did attend Senate committee hearings and she was certain he had been in briefings with the President before, which explained the suits. “Although, I’m realizing I could have probably put you in an ugly sweater.”
“Not a fucking chance, sweetheart.” Viktor placed a hand on the small of her back and escorted her into the mansion.
Though Marissa had warned her mother, Diana Cole’s eyes widened in awe as she took in her daughter’s date. Hard to ignore a man who was towering above everyone else, including six-two Trent. Viktor transformed himself into some suave European gentleman as he kissed the back of his mother’s hand in greeting.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Cole.”
She watched her staid country club, pearl-wearing mother visibly preen at the charming smile Viktor bestowed upon her, and for some reason, it irritated Marissa.
“Call me Diana, please,” her mother replied. “You don’t know how relieved I am that my daughter finally has a man.”
“Mother!”
Viktor chuckled.
“Well, it’s true. What with the work you do.”
Marissa shot her mother a warning look, noting that they had relatives—aunts,
uncles, and cousins—in attendance who didn’t really know Marissa’s real job. Only her parents and Trent knew of her work with the CIA, and even her mother didn’t know she was in black ops. All Diana knew was that she was a case officer.
“So what do you do, young man?”
It was her turn to control her amusement upon hearing Viktor called a “young man.” It looked like it had disconcerted him too, although he hid it well, barely blinking, but the muscle in his jaw ticked once . . . twice before he told her mother that he worked in security.
The standard answer. Always.
*****
Viktor made his way through the row of marbled columns, following the personal assistant of Trenton Cole III to the study. He had been summoned. Marissa’s father acknowledged him briefly when they were introduced before dinner and both men immediately sized up the other. Firm handshake, a meeting of eyes, silent communication of an underlying challenge. And Viktor never backed down from a challenge.
Dinner was fairly civilized. A sit-down affair of twenty people in an enormous dining room decorated with expensive renaissance art. The domed ceiling had several arches that were gilded in gold. In between the arches were landscape murals. The whole house was a fucking museum, and Viktor wondered how someone as real as Marissa could grow up in such an environment. Though it did explain her penchant for collecting antique pieces and art. The difference was she did it on a smaller and more personal scale.
Some of her relatives were wary of his presence and he couldn’t blame them because unless he consciously tried to relax, his natural aura was intimidating. That was just the way he was honed.
Trent had come up to him during cocktail hour and handed him a drink—a peace offering.
Marissa’s brother had a wry smile on his face. “We got off on the wrong foot, Baran. I owe you an apology.”
“I hope your sister didn’t put you up to this,” Viktor replied. He didn’t need Marissa fighting his battles.
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