He was a warrior.
Scarred. Bruised. Unstoppable.
Every part of her wanted every part of him.
Heart. Body. Soul.
He unzipped her pants, hooked his hands in her knickers, and pulled them both off in one swift motion. Wedging himself between her thighs, he reached for her T-shirt, lifted it over her head, unhooked her bra. Her breasts bounced as they were let loose and he lowered his body over hers, covering her in the heat of his skin, flattening her chest against his as he lowered his mouth to hers.
The touch of his lips on hers, his tongue slipping into her mouth was like a fuse, sending a lick of fire to the center of her body. She bent one knee, pressing her hips into his hard cock, desperate for him to sink into her as his mouth slanted over hers, the kiss deep and total, like the melding of their hearts. Their souls.
Her hands roamed the ass that could have been carved from granite, the muscled back. She dug her fingernails into his shoulder blades and he pulled away from their kiss, chuckling low in his throat. The vibration of it reverberated through her chest.
He grabbed her wrists, stretched them over her head, pinning them to the bed with one of his big hands. He lowered his mouth to her throat, licked his way down to her breasts as his cock teased her soaked entrance. She shifted her hips, trying to get him closer, close enough to nestle him in the slick petals of her sex, anything to feel his cock on her pussy.
He laughed again. “I love it when you’re persistent,” he said, sucking one hard nipple into her mouth.
She moaned, arching her back, giving him all of the fleshy mound. He squeezed it with his hand, raked his teeth against the rigid bud before flicking his tongue lightly over it and drawing it back into his mouth.
“Fuck me, Farrell,” she gasped. “Please.”
He moved to the other nipple, giving it equal attention.
“Not until I’m done,” he said, circling it with his tongue.
She pounded on his back with her fist, frustration pooling in her body like the desire pooling between her thighs.
“Bastard,” she gasped as his tongue trailed between her breasts, dipped into her naval.
Then he was between her legs, pulling her to the end of the bed until her ass was at the edge. He spread her knees wide, kneeling in front of her, squeezing the fleshy insides of her thighs, before lowering his head to nip at the tender skin there.
She fisted her hands in his hair as he got closer to the crease between her legs, her hips coming up off the bed of their own accord, searching for his mouth like a heat seeking missile. She could feel his breath against her outer lips, the whisper of it across her clit. Then his tongue was sliding between her folds, sliding slowly from the bottom of her pussy, almost in her ass, to her throbbing clit.
“Please,” she gasped, tightening her grip on his hair.
She thought he might tease her, but a moment later his mouth, hot and urgent, closed around the bundle of nerves. She cried out, opening her legs wider, wanting his mouth to cover her pussy with its warmth. He teased the clit with the tip of his tongue, then sucked it into his mouth as he slid two fingers inside her.
She moved against his fingers as he sucked, breaking away only to lap at her pulsing clit, covering it with the fleshy pad of his tongue before sucking again. She was still moving against his mouth when she felt one finger slip inside her ass.
A shot of pure pleasure shook her body. When he’d first claimed her ass, they’d used lube without fail, Farrell moving slowly and carefully inside her. Now it wasn’t uncommon for him to use her own thick juices to prepare her for him when they didn’t have lube handy. Her body was in a perpetual state of readiness, her hole quickly accommodating him.
She was floating above her body, in a state of oblivion as his fingers occupied every inch of her, one finger pressing on her G-spot at the same time his other finger worked her perineum, his mouth showering her clit with attention.
The orgasm was there almost from the moment his finger slid into her ass. She was reaching for it. Seeking it. Drawing it to her with every thrust of her hips against Farrell’s mouth, every stroke of his fingers inside her.
“Oh, god…” she moaned.
She moved faster, matching his rhythm in her pussy, her ass, against her clit, already feeling the release, like some kind of portent, a prediction that had been preordained the minute he touched her.
She pressed down hard on his fingers, taking them all, everywhere, feeling the atoms in her body come apart, a rending of skin from bone as she shuddered against his mouth in an explosion of light, the orgasm washing over her like shockwaves from an atom bomb.
Except when it was over she wasn't empty. She was full. So full.
And she wanted more.
She reached between her legs for him. “I want it, Farrell. I want you.”
He bent her knees open, spread her legs farther apart. She jumped when he stroked her swollen pussy with the head of his cock, but a moment later she was throbbing for him again, pressing against the thick crown, ready to push him inside her.
He sank into her in one vicious thrust. She cried out, grabbing onto his hips as he dragged every inch of his massive cock out of her slowly. Then he was sinking into her again and again, stroking her inner walls with his hard rod, bringing her to the brink all over again as he reached down to squeeze her bouncing breasts.
She was already disappearing again, losing herself in the light, when he pulled out. She punched at the bed, and he chuckled as he positioned his cock at the entrance of her ass. Her body gave a jolt of recognition. She knew what was going to happen and she wanted it.
She reached between her legs, stroked her clit while Farrell watched.
“Fuck, Jenna,” he growled. “It’s such a turn on to watch you touch yourself.”
“It’s such a turn on to watch you fuck me in the ass.”
He groaned, then slid the tip of his cock, slick with her come, into the tight hole of her ass. He waited, letting her stretch to accommodate him, letting her open to him as she worked circles around her clit with her finger. She was already breathing fast, her vision glazing over, and she lay back on the bed and closed her eyes, let herself get lost in the sensation as Farrell sank another half inch inside her.
And now she could feel it. Not just the sensation of his cock barely inside her, her center vibrating with the orgasm gathering steam in her bones. But the way it would feel when he sank all the way into her asshole. The way she would want to take him all, the way she would press down on him, oblivious to anything but the need to come on his cock.
She pushed against his cock, willed her body to open to him. It did, and she gasped, moving her fingers in faster circles around her clit while he pulled slowly out of her ass, pushed carefully into her again, waiting for the signal that she wanted more.
She wanted more.
“Harder,” she said. “Fuck me harder, Farrell.”
He moved faster, testing the bounds of his cock in her ass by stopping just short of full penetration until she grabbed his hips, pushed him all the way into her as she screamed. He slipped his fingers inside her pussy, and then the pleasure was too much, almost too intense to bear: the sensation of his cock stroking the nerves in her ass, his fingers penetrating her pussy while she worked her clit, his gaze locked on hers as he disappeared into her pleasure, their joint need pushing them together faster and harder until a wave of pure bliss crashed over her head, obliterating anything but the sensation of his body occupying hers, so much a part of her she didn’t know where he ended and she began as she clenched down on his fingers, his cock.
“I’m coming,” she cried. “I can’t stop coming.”
The words seemed to do something to him and he thrust into her with a guttural cry, spilling his come into her ass, the heat of it sending another detonation of pleasure rocketing through her body, extending her orgasm until he collapsed on top of her.
Twenty-Eight
Farrell struggled
against the bounds of darkness, a persistent pounding pulling him bit by bit from the depths of sleep. He woke to find Jenna sprawled face down next to him, her hair spilling across the bed, the sheet barely covering her lusciously full ass.
He blinked, trying to shake the disorientation, and the banging came again.
Someone was at the door.
He stood up in a hurry, pulled on his pants, and grabbed his gun. Then he made his way to the door.
Peering through the peephole, he was surprised to see Braden Kane standing in the hall of the hotel.
“Jesus,” Farrell said when he opened the door.
Kane looked down at the gun in his hand. “Is that a gun in your hand or are you just happy to see me?”
“Funny,” Farrell said, pulling open the door. “Wait here. Jenna’s still asleep.”
And naked, he thought.
He left Kane standing in the room’s tiny foyer and walked back into the bedroom. Easing himself down onto the edge of the bed, he stroked Jenna’s hair. She moaned, covering her eyes like a child.
“No,” she said, her voice hoarse. “I’m just going to pretend you’re not waking me up.”
He chuckled, then bent to kiss her head. “Pretend as long as you like, love. But Kane is back, and I have a feeling it’s more than a social call. We’re going to go downstairs and get some breakfast. Join us when you’re ready.”
She rolled over, giving him a perfect view of her luscious breasts, and he had a flash of her nipples, hard and pink as he sucked them into her mouth. His cock lurched in his jeans, and he stood up before he risked embarrassing himself in front of Kane.
He slipped on his T-shirt from the night before and stepped into the bathroom.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Kane asked, still standing by the door.
Farrell picked up his toothbrush. “Brushing my teeth.”
“Are you serious?” Kane asked.
“Morning breath is no joke, mate.”
Kane sighed. “You Brits are fucking pansies.”
“Just remember which fucking pansy got you Levchenko last night.”
Kane kept quiet while he finished, and they stepped into the hall and made their way to the elevator.
“Didn't expect you back so soon,” Farrell said as they descended to the lobby.
“Didn’t expect to be back so soon.”
There was no hint of tiredness in the man’s voice, although when Farrell looked closely, he noticed dark circles under Kane’s eyes. How long had it been since he’d slept?
They didn’t speak again until they were seated in the hotel restaurant, the Alps shimmering like beacons in a cloudless sky.
“What’s happening?” Farrell asked as he took his first glorious sip of coffee.
“He’s talking,” Kane said.
Farrell lifted his eyebrows in surprise. “Do I want to know how you managed it?”
“Probably not,” Kane said. “Although I will say that’s not my department.”
Farrell nodded. His feelings on torture in these situations weren’t complicated. He didn’t believe in hurting people for no reason. But hurting one person to save millions.
Sign him up.
“What’s the word?" Farrell asked.
“Rugby.”
“Rugby,” Farrell repeated.
“More specifically, the World Cup.”
“Which one?” Farrell asked.
“London. Tomorrow,” Kane said.
Farrell set down his mug and leaned back in his chair, a pit of dread opening up in his stomach. “Why did Borys say football?”
Kane shrugged. “Maybe he just wanted to piss you off after the beating you gave him.”
“So that’s where they’re releasing the virus? Wembley?”
Kane nodded. “According to Borys.”
“And Denys?” Farrell asked.
“That’s where we hit a roadblock,” Kane said. “Borys won’t sell out his brother.”
Farrell didn’t blame the man, but it was hard to assign admiration to him for such a small concession to humanity.
“We think he’s got the virus,” Kane continued. “That he’s the one who’s going to release it.”
“Makes sense,” Farrell said. “He’s the one with the biggest personal ax to grind.”
“Exactly.”
“Does this mean Jenna and I are off the hook?” Farrell asked.
“There will be an investigation into the death of Hodges and Karlsen as it relates to the Levchenkos and the others involved in the development of the virus. Assuming that checks out like we think it will, you’re in the clear.”
Farrell exhaled the loss he’d held in his chest since they’d left Germany as fugitives. Since he realized he and Jenna would have to stay away from Lily.
Now they would be able to see their daughter.
But the realization sat side by side with the knowledge that she was in danger. They all were. Every single person in the world. Unless they could stop Denys Levchenko.
“What now?” Farrell asked.
“You’re not going to like it.”
“I never do.”
Kane sighed. “We need Jenna.”
Farrell’s blood turned cold. “No.”
“She’s seen him up close and personal,” Kane said. “We have images, but he might use a disguise. There will be thousands of people at the arena. We need someone who’s seen him in person.”
“I’ve seen him in person,” Farrell said. “I’ll go.”
“You’ll go where?”
Farrell looked up at Jenna, radiant in nothing but jeans and a T-shirt, her hair pulled back into a loose knot at the back of her head.
“Nowhere.” He didn’t want to discuss the possibility of Jenna going as an eyewitness to Wembley. Not with Levchenko on the loose with a deadly virus. He looked around for the waiter, waved him over with coffee for Jenna, hoping to distract her.
“So, where will you go?” she asked, sipping from the steaming cup after the waiter left.
Kane ignored the question, looked at Farrell. “You’ve seen him in passing, at a distance. It’s not good enough. There’s too much at stake.”
It was a small concession — giving Farrell the chance to come around on his own — but it wouldn’t last. If Homeland Security, MI6, and DGSI wanted Jenna to be there, she would be there.
The easy way or the hard way. Kane was giving him a choice.
“Is someone going to fill me in?” Jenna asked. “I feel like I just joined a conversation taking place in a language I don’t speak.”
Farrell turned to her. “Levchenko talked. Denys is releasing the virus at Wembley tomorrow. At the World Cup.”
She shook her head. “But that’s… that’s madness.”
“I don’t think sanity is a requisite for the Levchenko’s — or anyone else who’s in on this,” Kane said.
“Thousands of people…” Jenna murmured before turning her attention back to Kane. “Do you know any of the details? When or where in the stadium? Anything at all?”
“Not really,” Kane said. “We've picked up a little chatter through various surveillance channels, but it’s not necessarily credible.”
She drew in a breath, looked from Kane to Farrell. “Why do I get the feeling there’s something you’re not telling me?”
“They want you to go,” Farrell said.
She looked surprised. “Me? To Wembley?”
“You’re the only one we know who’s spent any real time with him since he went underground and re-emerged as Alex Petrov. We have composites, but if we need a positive ID, we’re not going to have time to text you a picture.”
She nodded. “All right.”
“It’s dangerous,” Farrell said. “Possibly deadly.”
“I’m assuming I’m not going to be on the front lines,” she said.
“You definitely fucking won’t,” Farrell growled.
“You’ll be well protected,” Kane said. “In the background.
It’s a just-in-case scenario.”
She turned her gaze to Farrell. “You know I don’t have a choice in this. Neither of us do. It’s for Lily. For every little girl like her, and everyone else, too. All those families going to Wembley for a nice day out together. All the people beyond the stadium who will breathe the air. All the people who will come in contact with those people.”
She was better than him. He’d always known it, but now he was coming face to face with their differences. Because he didn’t give a fuck about anyone but Jenna and Lily. Leo and Ethan. Jenna’s family. He wanted to rush out of Chamonix, gather his family and his family’s family, hide them away until the danger had passed.
Because this wasn’t a danger that he could fight hand-to-hand. It wasn’t a danger he could pummel or intimidate. A danger he could kill.
Unless they got Denys Levchenko.
He looked at Kane. “She goes, I go.”
Kane sighed. “I expected no less.”
“I guess we’re going back to London.”
Twenty-Nine
Jenna sat in the back of the SUV, tapping her fingers against her knee, trying to quell the feeling that she would be sick. They’d been flown back to London the day before by helicopter and ensconced in a MI6 safe house outside the city. She was itching to call Lily, to hear her daughter’s voice, to tell Kate to keep Lily in Tuscany no matter what happened next, to call her mum and tell her to get out of the city as soon as possible.
Just in case.
But they’d been forbidden to contact anyone. One leak would set off a mass panic, and a mass panic would create optimal conditions for the release of the virus. It would also make it easier for Levchenko to disappear, and this time, they couldn’t be sure he’d re-emerge.
Farrell’s hand closed over hers, stopping the motion of her fingers. She looked at him and forced a smile.
“I’m okay.”
He nodded. “I know.”
He lifted her hand to his lips, kissed it tenderly. He hated that she was here, traveling toward Wembley in the back of a vehicle with bulletproof glass, traveling toward something that could kill them all in the most vile way possible.
Eternal (London Mob Book 3) Page 15