He stroked his cock, his gaze never leaving hers. “I’m going to fuck you.”
She nodded. “I know.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Liberty lay there, her breathing rapid and her pulse speeding as she soaked in the sight of Rurik standing at the foot of the bed. Every single ounce of the man was sheer perfection.
Oh yeah.
The Kremlin was getting a thank you note from her. Maybe even a basket of baked goods to go along with that.
She bit at her lower lip as he put a knee on the bed, his hand sliding over his long, thick cock. A moment of panic came over her, thinking about all the ways his chicken couldn’t possibly fit in her, but her body was already bathing in the aftershocks of the mind-numbing orgasm he’d caused in her.
Reason had left the building.
She put out a hand toward him. “Rurik.”
He crawled the rest of the way onto the bed and somehow managed to make it feel small, despite accommodating three grown women on more than one occasion.
Her fingers skimmed his rock-hard abs as she reached for his cock.
Rurik caught her wrist gently, shaking his head no. “If you touch me, I’ll come.”
A wicked grin splayed over her face.
He moved over her fully, pushing her legs open wide with his knee and thigh. He settled between them. Their gazes locked as he lined up with her core. He bent his head, capturing her mouth with his. Their tongues danced around one another as he fed the head of his cock into her inch by inch, stretching her fully.
Her hands found his shoulders. Liberty dug her nails in, trying to relax to aid in his entry, but it didn’t work as planned. The man was anything but small.
When Liberty realized she was drawing blood, she released his shoulders.
Rurik deepened the kiss with a growl. He added his hand to the mix, rubbing her swollen bud as he continued to ease slowly into her. The act left her squirming beneath him, accepting his girth.
When he was as far as he could go, he planted his palms on the bed, to each side of her head, and broke the kiss, tipping his head back, appearing strained. He remained in the push-up state for what felt like forever, giving Liberty no choice but to swivel her hips below him.
“Lib-er-ty,” said Rurik, sounding as if he was barely holding on. “I need a minute. You feel…divine.”
Ignoring him, she moved beneath him more, taking him deep and then pulling off him again and again as he remained almost statue-like.
The muscles in his neck strained and for a second, she could have sworn his blue eyes seemed to shimmer. He kissed her before she could so much as question what she might have seen. He moved then, pushing into her fully. He then began drilling her into sweet oblivion.
Her body responded in kind, gyrating against his movements as if they were a well-oiled machine with years of practice in the bedroom together. They found a rhythm, one that left her gasping and clinging to him as he fucked the living hell out of her. Her toes curled and she nearly dug her nails into his back, drawing blood there as well, as everything in her tightened, including her sex.
She writhed beneath him, her hands roaming the hard planes of his body.
He moved his hand from between them and cupped her breast. Then he lowered his head, continuing to fuck her. He licked her pebble-like nipple and then took it into his mouth, sucking gently at first before increasing the pressure. The added sensation caused pleasure to burst free from deep within her, spreading quickly to every limb, making her shake and jerk under him.
His lips found hers once more. The kiss was intoxicating.
Rurik growled in her mouth and then broke the kiss, moving his mouth to her neck. He dragged his lips over her sensitive flesh as pleasure held her in its thrall. Her orgasm showed no sign of letting up, and neither did Rurik. He kept his mouth against her throat but whispered something in Russian.
She hugged him to her, riding out the shockwaves of bliss. “W-what?”
“Mine,” he said in a low, gruff voice near her ear.
She’d have questioned him on it all but instantly felt the temperature around her dropping rapidly—like it did before she lost control of her curse.
Panic welled. “Rurik!”
“Let it go,” he whispered.
The words slid over her, chasing away her worry. In that moment, she trusted him fully, as if he were some kind of expert when it came to what she could do. She stared at the ceiling over his shoulder before noticing a small rivulet of blood from the scratches she’d caused. Fixated, she couldn’t seem to look away. The strangest urge to repeat what Rurik had said before came over her.
“Mine,” she said in a voice that was barely there. As the word left her lips, the temperature dropped more. Instead of panicking, she licked the tiny trickle of blood from the wound she’d caused.
At the same time, Rurik kissed her neck. A sharp pain came from the spot but was quickly chased away by earth-shattering pleasure.
Liberty orgasmed again and didn’t bother with trying to keep her voice down. She let out a cry that could have been heard blocks away.
Rurik’s entire body tensed before he did four hard, stiff jerks against her, settling deep—rooting himself in her. His cock twitched and she wrapped her legs around his waist, keeping him locked to her as her pussy milked him.
He licked the spot he’d been kissing on her neck before his lips found hers. The kiss he gave her was tender, soft in a way that was filled with emotion, not blind with lust as had been the case before between them. He smiled against her lips.
Liberty slid her foot down one of his legs and chuckled under him. “Wow. Putin is getting two baskets of goodies from me.”
“Pardon?” asked Rurik, sounding lost.
She laughed more. “Nothing.”
He withdrew from her but remained above her. The expression on his face was a mix of satisfaction and trepidation.
“Rurik, what is it?”
He took a deep breath. “There is something I need to talk to you about.”
She swallowed hard and pressed on his chest for him to move off her. “You regret this, don’t you?”
“No,” he whispered against her lips. He then kissed her tenderly, remaining in place, pinning her to the bed with his powerful body.
“Good,” she replied, sliding her hands up his arms to his shoulders once more. As she ran her fingers over the area, she paused and then lifted her head to get a better look.
He quirked a dark brow. “What are you doing?”
“I scratched you open during, um, all that chicken play,” she said.
Apprehension filled his blue gaze momentarily. “Chicken play?”
Her chest heated as she tried to think of a way to put it. “Sounded less raunchy than saying ‘when you were banging me.’”
“Banging you?” he echoed with a laugh. “I like the sound of that too.”
“I liked the act of it,” she offered, making him chuckle more. She ran her hands over his shoulders and upper arms. The skin was smooth and unmarred. “Seriously, I could have sworn I drew blood. Sorry about that.”
His eyes closed for a fraction of a second before his gaze swept over her face, growing forlorn in the process. “Liberty, there is something about me you should know.”
Skimming her hands over his body more, she nodded. “You can tell me. You saw what I can do. You know my big secret. Wait, you’re not married or something, are you?”
“It’s not that,” he said. “And about the being married thing—” He began to speak but stopped, glancing to the side quickly.
She groaned when she saw two objects floating above the bedside table. The Statue of Liberty figurine and the old, worn stuffed bear from her childhood. They lowered as the temperature in the room began to return to normal. When it was all said and done, they were back where they’d started, sitting next to the framed photo of her and her friends.
Rurik did a double take—and then moved off her so fast, he was not
hing but a blur.
The man then ceremoniously tumbled off the end of the bed and landed on the floor with a loud thump. He shot up fast as if he had springs in his ass, and stared slack-jawed at the previously floating objects.
Liberty sighed. “I do freak you out, don’t I? You’re totally scared of me. I swear I won’t hurt you. If I knew how to stop this all from happening, I would.”
He practically tripped backward as if he’d seen a ghost.
Tears welled as Liberty stared at the table too, a little worried a ghost had actually appeared. With the way her luck ran, the orange-eyed demon from across the street had suddenly taken up residency in her bedside table drawer. Seemed illogical, but then again, so did the ability to move things with one’s mind—yet she possessed that capability.
He was scared of her—there was no other explanation.
She sat up quickly and grabbed for the comforter, yanking it up to partially cover herself, wanting to cry but holding desperately to the tears.
“Liberty.” His face went ashen as he blinked in her direction. “W-where did you get those?”
“Get what?” she asked, her attention on the table once more. She clung to her emotions. “The figurine and the bear?”
He nodded, his hand moving to cover his groin as if he was suddenly bashful.
“I don’t know. I mean, I do know—kind of. It’s hard to explain.”
“Try,” he said.
Without thinking, her hand went to her scarred cheek. “Someone gave them to me when I was little. He was one of the men who helped me after I was removed from a really bad situation.”
“Little Paw?”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Liberty’s jaw dropped. Had Rurik just called her Little Paw? Surely, she’d heard him wrong. There was positively no way in hell Rurik could be the same man who helped her when she was little.
Dipping her head, she narrowed her gaze on him, skepticism oozing from her every pore. “W-what did you say?”
Rurik continued to cup himself as a light sheen of sweat covered his chest, making it glisten. He stared harder at her, looking as though he might be physically ill at any moment.
Her thoughts were scrambled as she tried but failed to make sense of what had happened. “Rurik, answer me. What did you call me?”
“Little Paw?” he asked hesitantly, pulling his hands over his face as he shook his head.
Liberty darted off the bed, yanking the comforter with her before backing against the end table. The figurine and the bear fell at the same time. She grabbed for them quickly and brought them to her chest, clutching them.
With no free hands, the blanket slid to her feet, and she stood there naked, staring at Rurik, thinking again about how his eyes and voice reminded her of the nice man from her dreams.
The one who had helped her.
There was no way in hell he could be the same man.
He’d not aged a day.
He backed up more, shaking his head.
“Little Paw?” he repeated.
“Boris?” Her stomach dropped.
It was him!
It was the man from her dreams. The one who helped her as a child. Heat raced through her and she swayed, positive she might throw up. She’d been desperate to find him for so long only to end up sleeping with him.
A long line of Russian came tumbling out of Rurik’s mouth as he shook his head and backed in the direction of the door even more.
She eased forward. “How? You’re not old enough to have—”
He shot back more and bumped the door, tossing his hands in the air as if she were holding him at gunpoint. The act left his groin exposed. His cock began to harden, and he brought his hands down fast in an attempt to hide his erection from her. Minutes ago, he’d been in her, spilling his seed, and now he didn’t want to be near her or be seen naked before her.
The rejection hurt.
A lot.
More than growing up never really knowing where she came from or what she was.
The tears she’d been desperate to cling to burst free all at once, leaving her sobbing as she went to where his jeans were on the floor. She held the figurine and the bear to her with one arm and lifted the jeans, holding them out to Rurik. She couldn’t make eye contact with him, and the formation of words was difficult. “I don’t…know if I’m right. If you’re really him. But either way, thank you and good-bye.”
“Good-bye?” he echoed, lowering his hands. “You want me to go?”
A tiny tip of her head was all that she could muster as she stood there continuing to hold his jeans out to him with one hand while she clutched the figurine and bear to her body. They still provided comfort as they had all her life, even though the man she associated with them wanted nothing to do with her. “Y-yes?”
With one large step he was in front of her, easing the jeans from her hand and throwing them over his shoulder and into the air. They bounced off the door and slid to the floor. He never took his eyes off her. “You’re Little Paw?”
Averting her gaze, she nodded, wanting to get dressed and forget this night ever happened. It didn’t matter that she’d spent her life looking for him and that he was now before her in the flesh. It was clear he regretted what they’d done—that they’d had sex. To her it had meant everything, but to him, it evidently didn’t. The search for answers to questions she’d had for what felt like forever died in its tracks. She didn’t want to discuss it all with him. She just wanted to be alone.
She put her back to him.
Rurik’s body was suddenly pressed to the back of hers.
Try as she might, she couldn’t ignore the way her body responded to his presence. It was like her lady parts hadn’t gotten the message that the Russian pleasure train had left the station.
He slid his arms around her waist, dragging her against him fully. He nuzzled his face in her hair and inhaled deeply. “Cinnamon, nutmeg, and vanilla. I should have known.”
Liberty kept her head bent, crying silently. “What?”
Rurik eased her hair to one side and kissed her bare shoulder before his lips found her ear. Whatever he said in Russian left her knees feeling weak. He splayed a hand over her stomach and eased it down her with painstaking slowness.
Her mind shouted for her to step away from his embrace. To put distance between them. Her heart and her hormones had other plans. Sinking back against him, she cried more all while her body craved more of his touch.
“I didn’t recognize you,” he said, his voice deep yet barely above a whisper. “Aside from being grown now, your face is—”
At the mention of her injury, she winced and tried to dart away from him.
He held her in place, his hand sliding lower until he was cupping her sex. “Liberty.”
“Go, please,” she begged while her damn hips betrayed her and began to move enough that his fingers rubbed against her clit.
He parted her folds and took over, causing her to gasp. He bit at her earlobe, growling as he did. “You’re mine.”
“I’m not anyone’s anything,” she said as she moaned from the pleasure that he was causing to jolt through her.
His finger dipped into her, and her body tightened around it. “Rurik.”
He spoke in Russian again as he eased his finger in and out of her at a steady pace. The act sent pulsating waves of pleasure through her.
With a possessive growl, Rurik spun her around to face him. Boldly, he lifted her, and her legs wrapped around his waist instantly. The Statue of Liberty figurine and the stuffed bear were pressed between them. Neither of them seemed to care.
His mouth reclaimed hers as his cock nudged at her soaked entrance. With one swift movement he drove into her and she cried out in his arms, mostly from pleasure but also from the slight bite of pain in her chest as the figurine’s spiked plastic crown dug into her flesh.
Rurik pounded into her, taking her body to the edge of culmination. He broke the kiss and said something else in Russian
before locking gazes with her. “Come for me.”
And just like that—she did.
Her orgasm took hold of her, leaving her jerking on his cock and tightening her legs around his waist.
He nodded slightly, his approving gaze soaking her in just before his body shuddered. Liquid warmth filled her, and she laid her head against his shoulder, still cradling the figurine and bear between them.
Rurik held her there and it took her a second to realize the way he was doing so had changed from a man holding a woman for sex to a man holding a woman in a loving manner. He tilted his head against hers and stood there for what felt like forever, buried in her, their combined juices beginning to leak.
It was then she remembered what they’d talked about at the diner. He’d been hurt a few weeks back. He’d undergone more than one operation. “Rurik, put me down.”
He withdrew from her and did as she asked but caught her elbow, keeping her in front of him.
Her breathing was heavy as she looked him over. “Did I hurt you?”
“Hurt me?” he asked, seeming lost.
“You were attacked and hurt,” she reminded, though she didn’t see any signs of surgery scars.
“I’m fine,” he argued.
She gave him a stern look.
He kissed the tip of her nose. “Little Paw, I’ll admit I was sore when the day started out, but now—this—you—I’ve never felt better.”
She wasn’t sure she believed him.
He touched her scarred cheek. The man had the nerve to chuckle.
She flinched.
“Shh, no,” he said, dipping his head and kissing each of her scars tenderly. “I’m not laughing at the fact you were harmed. I’m laughing because I did not notice the marks. They are all but gone. And because of who you are to me. Fate set you in my path twenty years ago. Then saw to it we found one another now. I laughed because I’m happy, Liberty.”
Act of Surveillance: Paranormal Security and Intelligence® an Immortal Ops® World Novel (PSI-Ops/Immortal Ops Book 7) Page 22