by Eve Langlais
She turned into a limp doll, hanging from his grip with all her weight—a size built on years of Russian cooking, the only kind of cooking that really counted. She let all her muscles relax as she let gravity do the work.
It pulled her down, but was it enough to throw the man off balance?
“If you insist on lying down, then let me oblige you.”
“What the fuck!” The curse expelled from her as she found herself hitting the ground, not hard, the man who took her there somehow cushioning the fall. But he did nothing to cushion the hard weight of himself atop her, pinning her with his body. His hands manacled her wrists. He manhandled her as if she were just a girl. And, for once, she was.
“Let me go,” she begged like a commoner.
“Later.”
“Now.” She wiggled underneath him. “Unhand me at once.”
He cocked his head and stared. “Why move when I find myself most comfortable?”
“I’m not,” she retorted with vehemence even if she lied. Her body very much enjoyed the fact that she lay under him. He provided a solid presence atop her, all male, all delicious. If he didn’t hold her hands, she’d probably let them roam his body. Was his ass as taut as the rest of him?
A shiver went through her. She wanted to know. It had been a while since her body showed an interest in someone. For the past few years, she’d noticed most men left her bored, so bored she’d not been with one in a long time. And longer still since she’d allowed a man to be on top of her.
Usually, Anja sat in the seat of power, riding her way to nirvana, ignoring the, at times, terrified and yet ecstatic looks of her lovers. An ex-boyfriend had likened her passion to watching a storm sweep in, all power and beauty but, at the same time, deadly if not careful.
Boys could be such fragile things. Not so the man atop her. He squirmed. On purpose.
Her eyes narrowed. “That better not be an erection, you bully.” Yes, a bully who made her think of a bull who just charged ahead and did as he pleased. With her.
Her panties got a little wetter, and as if sensing it, he shifted his hips, pressing himself even more firmly. And she meant firm.
“Yes, that is an erection. For you. Which, I will admit, is really not what I was planning to deal with today. For one thing, it’s not been that long ago since my five friends here”—he waggled his fingers—“took care of business.”
“Do you pay them well for servicing you?”
“In a sense.” He smiled. “I lotion every day so I don’t get too many calluses.”
A disparaging noise left her. “A vain man concerned about hiding the proof he works.”
“Not vanity. Practicality. If you let them get too rough, it’s like jerking off with sandpaper.”
She almost laughed. “You speak as if from experience.”
“I am a man who is open to new ideas. Especially in the bedroom. You’re a farmer. Don’t tell me you never tried it with vegetables?” He arched a brow.
“If I said no, is this where you try to convince me I should eat my daily dose of cucumber?” She smirked.
A tilt of his head brought a boyish look to his features. “You are clever.”
“For a woman?”
“No, just clever in general. Most people are stupid, no matter their sex.”
“On that we agree.”
“Don’t do that.”
“Do what.”
He frowned. “Make yourself so likable, which leads to me wanting to fuck you, or at least fuck you more than I want to fuck you already, which is fucked up because you are not my type. Yet suddenly you are.”
The words spewed from him, and despite their roundabout nature, she grasped the gist. “It is not my fault you find my big, ungainly body utterly fascinating. Your body obviously recognizes greatness, whereas your brain is too stupid to see it, probably due to a lack of size on account of your thick skull taking up most of the room.”
“Calling the man who has your life in his hands stupid is not very smart. You should be kissing me instead. But not on my lips. I prefer kisses in other places.”
“Put that other place anywhere close to my lips, and I will bite. Hard.” She smiled. “I will also chew and swallow.”
“You have a very bloodthirsty side. I like it.”
He what? He said the most deranged things, and yet, the more he opened his mouth, and the more he teased her with his weight, the more attractive he got. So she tried to force herself to dislike him. “I think it’s time you got off me.”
“I’d like to get off with you. But I really shouldn’t. You’re a distraction I don’t need. A witness I can’t afford.” His fingers released her wrists, only so they could circle her neck, the tips pressing into her flesh. “Given you caught me, I should choke you and then be on my way. Never leave a witness behind.”
She couldn’t help but mutter, “Sounds like something my grandmother would say.”
“A smart woman then. So let me ask you, what would she do? I must rid myself of you, and yet, what method should I use? If I choke you to death, it appears as assault, and it might leave DNA. I could toss you from a tree, make it appear an accident.”
“There’s also a river nearby.” If he threw her in, she could swim.
“It might make a good dumping ground because, if I kill you, do I hide the body or leave it to be found? Do you have a preference?”
She rolled her eyes. “Just like a man to prattle on and on instead of getting the job done. Would you get on with the hit already? Kill me. Don’t kill me. All I hear is a lot of talk. Do something already.”
“I will act when I am ready.”
“I hope this isn’t how you approach sex because you must leave a lot of your partners disappointed. Hell, I’m disappointed. A man tackles a woman to the ground with brute force and then”—her lip curled—“he wants to talk. Is this how you want to kill me? Are you waiting for me to expire of boredom?”
Both his brows rose in surprise. “I am many things, but I wouldn’t say boring is one.”
“Apparently you are a man of clichés.”
His lips quirked. “Cliché would be me quieting you with a kiss. Or leaping off you and running off exclaiming ‘We will meet again.’ But, instead, I shall—”
“Get off my granddaughter slowly, or I will blow you a new zalupa.”
Chapter Three
Not sure what a zalupa is, but I probably don’t want one. Something about the heavily accented words left no doubt the woman would do something vile. But not as vile as what I’m going to have to do.
This day had gone to shit. He would have to kill not one but two women because Cole didn’t want to have to ever admit getting caught unawares not once today but twice, the second time by a garden gnome.
Okay, so the old lady wasn’t quite that short. Jumping to his feet, Cole noted he towered a good two feet over the old woman—one Nonna Smith according to his research on the farm. Completely undaunted, she pointed a derringer in his face.
“I’ve had bee stings that would hurt more than that,” he remarked, doing his best to loom over the other woman.
She didn’t seem impressed.
“I don’t know if I’d bother pricking him, Babushka. He’s built like a stone wall. It would be a waste of a good bullet,” said the woman his bear wanted to lick head to toe. Personally, he’d prefer to just lick her between the thighs. He did so love honey.
“Letting him go, though, is a waste of good meat.” The so-called babushka eyed him up and down. He’d seen butchers do much the same thing. “Italian?”
He shook his head. “Greek origin.”
The old woman’s eyes lit with job. “Really? I have a recipe for something Greek.”
“What if he’s lying and he’s not Greek?” asked the woman he wanted to mount—and not as a trophy on his wall, although she’d look good mounted atop his cock. She’d also probably look very pretty on his arm once he put her in a dress.
“It doesn’t matter wha
t he is. I’ll improvise.” The gnome lady bestowed on him the most beauteous and feral smile.
It warmed his hard assassin heart, but not as much as the following words.
“We are not slaughtering him.” The woman—My woman—rose to her feet and moved around Cole, brushing grass and dirt off her pants.
“We could if you fetched me my good knife.”
“I am not getting your knife. Remember what happened the last time you threatened someone with kitchen implements?”
Thin lips pulled tight in the wrinkled face. “I remember. The meddling politsiya brought their dogs. But they found nothing. Nothing because I am that good.” The evil cackle almost made him smile.
Don’t you dare grin. He needed to show them who commanded the situation. Cole plucked the little gun from the old lady. “Let me take that before you shoot someone’s eye out.” Cole never aspired to the eye-patch look. He tossed the weapon to the side opposite the shotgun, then clapped his hands together. “So, who dies first?” In truth, he didn’t plan to kill them, but he was kind of nervous. What did a man say to the woman his noisy bear kept insisting was his mate?
Don’t talk. Lick. Lick her up and down. That should get the message across that she’s ours.
Someone should let her know that, according to his bear, she was fated to be his because he was pretty sure she didn’t feel the same connection.
The girl moved fast, pulling the gun from his holster, a first for him. No one had ever disarmed him before.
Click and click. It took only a blink to find a pair of revolvers pointed at him. His very own weapon aimed high, face level and no big deal by his Russian lady. She won’t shoot. It was the one aimed at his man parts that worried him, most especially since he wondered what else the old woman now hid under her shawl.
He cupped his balls. Smiled too. Maybe indulged in a little hip action. He just couldn’t help himself. “Whatever you do, don’t hit Sally and Joe. They don’t deserve to die this young.”
“A moment ago you were talking about killing me,” said Anja, and, yes, he knew her name. Her social media images might not have done her justice, but there was no mistaking her features.
“Before you fill me with lead, I don’t supposed I could make one last request?”
“You’re not in the position to make requests, and I think it’s time you left,” said the woman his bear wanted to dip in honey and lap from head to toe. Especially the soft places in between.
“And here I thought we were having a good time getting to know each other. If this is our first date, just imagine what our second will be like.”
“This is not a date.”
“Yet, here we are. Together.” He smiled, perhaps a touch too wildly. She didn’t scream. Good sign.
“I don’t date trespassers.”
“Neither do I. I prefer to kill them.”
“And what about their bodies?” she asked, showing a practical nature that the planner in him drooled over.
“I get creative.” He shrugged. “Although I don’t get to kill intruders as often as I’d like. Something about my security system being too tight.”
“That seems like it would take away all the fun.”
“You have a point. Perhaps I shall disarm all my measures and see what happens.” What fun and devious things could happen if someone dared to invade my space?
“You have a glib tongue. What are you?” Not who, what. In spite of the gun leveled on his jewels, the grandmother examined his face with one eye squinted shut as she tried to peek under his skin.
What am I? A simple question and yet fraught with peril.
Do I tell her I’m a bear? A big one with teeth?
Do I mention that I’m currently employed as a jack-of-all-trades, selling my services to the highest bidder and reaping the rewards? Or should he tell her something more devious like the truth? “I am Nikolaos Theodoros Arkadios, at your service. My friends call me Cole for short. But you can call me anytime.” He winked.
“Flirting with my gram won’t get you anywhere,” Anja muttered over her shoulder, giving him a glimpse of her flashing blue eyes. “She’s got a bullshit meter that detects even the slightest hint.”
“I think she will hear my sincerity when I say she is a formidable, dynamic inspiration of life after forty.”
“I like him. Bring him to the house.” With that, the gnome lady turned around and began strutting through the untouched grass.
What? He blinked, but the view didn’t change. Exactly why was the woman trudging a new trail instead of using the one she’d arrived on? The one that apparently didn’t leave a trace. No trace of the grandmother approaching, and no scent to warn him.
How the hell did I miss her coming? His brow knit in a frown, and not because the big blond Valkyrie pushed at his chest.
“Big, stupid, dumb rock.” She shoved and heaved two-handed.
He looked down at her. Not far. She truly was a big girl with hips meant for a man to hold as he thrust his way to heaven all night long. “Do you really think you can move me?”
“If I get the right leverage I can,” she snapped, putting her shoulder into him and grunting as she shoved.
He almost made an effort to stay in place. All this manhandling of his body by this particular woman had caused a less-than-subtle rise in his pants. The question was, would she do something about it? Would her annoyance lead to angry sex? Or happy sex? Or make-up sex? He didn’t really care so long as it involved sex.
Shifting his grip until his hands spanned her waist, Cole lifted until she was eye level. He didn’t lift her far, though given her height. That didn’t stop him from teasing. “I see you trying to get my attention. Did you want something, pipsqueak?”
“Put me down.”
“Make me.”
“I command you to leave. Now.” Said with all the sneering dignity of an empress.
Obedience wasn’t in his nature. Obstinacy though? They were close friends. “I can’t leave now. It would be rude, especially since your grandmother seemed adamant I come to your home.”
“Because then you’ll be closer to her knife collection.”
“And her bedroom.”
“Why would you say…” Her eyes widened, and her mouth rounded into an O. “Oh. Ugh. That is so wrong. My grandmother is like a zillion years old. She is not into that kind of thing.”
“I somehow doubt that.” But the bedroom antics wouldn’t be with Cole. Cole had eyes for another woman. A woman who tempted him every time she opened her mouth.
I’ve got something just the right size to stick in there.
“You need to go. Now.”
“But I’m not done.”
“I don’t really care. I don’t know why you were on my property perving it out watching the folks next door, but I won’t call the cops if you leave now without making a fuss.”
“Bah. You won’t call them.” Stated with calm assurance.
“Are you so sure of that?”
“Very.” He leaned close and smiled, inhaling her intoxicating scent. “You won’t call because you like me. Like me a lot. A part of you really wants to tear off my pants so we can do it. Right here. Right now.”
“With no bed?”
“Who needs a bed? You’ll put your hands on that tree.” He pointed to a fat one nearby. “I’ll enter you from behind and give it to you.” He humped his hips and uttered a few moaning noises for effect. “I’m going to ride you like a pony at the races, taking you to the finish line a winner.”
Her lips twitched. “So romantic, and yet the reality is you’ll spew too quickly because I am too much woman for you, and I will be forced to seek the attention of my vibrator because it at least never lets me down.”
With that saucy retort, she tucked his gun in the waistband of her jeans, bent down to grab her shotgun and her grandmother’s pistol, then strutted away. Oh, yes, she strutted, with those full hips of hers embraced by formfitting, faded jeans tucked into … Oh fuck yea
h, cowboy boots. As for her T-shirt, it clung nicely to her upper body and showed the outline of a bra, a sports bra, something sturdy and reliable.
So fucking sexy especially once it hit the ground and he could see her glorious tits. He wagered they were splendid. Everything about her was fucking magnificent. From her quick and sassy retorts to her lack of fear when it came to violence. She was better than any picnic basket. And she was getting away.
Chase her down.
He shouldn’t.
Remember the honey. Ah yes, the sweet scent of her honey, the arousal she couldn’t hide from him. His temptation. His downfall.
Leave now while you can!
His job regarding Fabian was off the table, the offer to kill the people across the street withdrawn months and months ago. He had no cause to be here. No reason to stay. And yet, he found himself drawn to this place. Drawn by fate perhaps?
Movement caught his eye. Or should he say a certain ass. Look away.
Swish to the left.
He really should go.
Sashay to the right.
If he left now, he could catch the beginning of his favorite fishing show.
She jiggled as she went over a small rain-fed creek in the grass.
The woman wasn’t any of his business.
Wiggle. Look at that ass.
My ass.
Fuck me.
He chased it.
Chapter Four
He’s following.
Anja didn’t need to turn and peek to know he shortened the distance between them with his long stride. He didn’t have to run to catch her, not like her boyfriend in college. What a whiner Stan turned out to be. How was it her fault his short legs needed to work twice as hard to keep up? Then again, it shouldn’t surprise her Stan complained. He was lazy in the bedroom too, always out of breath and asking if they could take a break. Definitely not a bull with stamina in the bedroom.
I wonder if the rock behind me could keep up. It might have added extra swagger to her step. Nothing wrong with giving the guy something to admire.
The house Anja shared with her grandmother wasn’t exactly close to the edge of the property. The tree she’d found the trespasser in lay rooted on the far edge of the lot. He’d chosen well, though, given it was the only area to command a partial view of the place next door.