He had the male arrogance to make a comment about my kissing skills before barking a thunderous laugh. Then I heard low mumbles, a few whistles, and even a feminine titter.
Great.
We had an audience consisting of Joanna, Sasha, Maksim, Kirill, Baba, and more than a handful of soldiers.
“Do you want me to get you out of here or should we give them more of a show?” the big-headed bastard asked.
I adopted a look of utter contempt, tucking my hand around his forearm.
I said nothing else and I met no one’s eyes as we left, but I vibrated with such anger inside.
I despised his control over me.
“Proschay,” Arkady called back before we exited the main floor of The Cat and the Sickle.
Ever the gentleman—not—he helped me into the SUV then hopped behind the wheel. We exited the compound, and I noted two more vehicles tailing us.
Arkady was upping the security, meaning we were in even more danger, although I couldn’t imagine anything more lethal than him at that point.
Parked in front of his house, he again collected me from the passenger side.
I scanned around surreptitiously . . . one of the following cars carried on and the other stopped half a block away. Soldiers took up guard from a discreet distance and might even go unnoticed to the untrained eye, but I’d been used to Augustu pacing me over the past several years.
His creeping presence used to send unwanted prickles all over my skin. I didn’t have to worry about him anymore since Arkady had killed him.
Arkady killed with the same hands that he used to kindle such uncontrollable lust from me.
If only my body understood what my brain knew indefinitely.
Inside, Arkady shed his jacket before he clasped a hand around my elbow. He guided me upstairs and into his bedroom. Spinning me in front of him, he began tugging down the hidden zipper at the back of my dress.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Never before had a man handled me as if he owned the rights to my body.
I clutched the dress to my front as he deftly lowered the zipper to the base of my spine. He trailed a lone fingertip down the center of my back, creating a pattern of chills across my skin.
Suddenly my mind clouded, and I was spun right back into the arousal he’d so quickly ignited at the nightclub.
Both his hands settled on my shoulders while mine fell away from the dress.
“I must check the dressing on your thigh.” His deep silken voice made my breath leave in a whoosh.
Easing the garment from my arms, he snagged the straps of my bra too.
“You don’t need to take off my bra to do that.” The breathless quality of my reprimand made my words entirely unconvincing.
“But I want to.” And, as the dress hung at my wrists, he nimbly flicked open the bra’s catch.
My breasts bounced free then the dress swirled down to lay in a puddle around my feet. As if in the throes of a spell, I started to step from the pile of fabric as well as from my stilettoes but Arkady stopped me.
As he faced me, his gaze washed over me with smoldering male hunger. “Leave the heels on. I like them.”
He took my hand, lacing his fingers slowly through mine. Heat coursed through me from a pulsing point in my pussy.
He helped me step from the dress and sat me on the edge of the bed. “Stay.”
I didn’t move and I barely breathed.
He entered the bathroom, tugging off his shirt along the way. Bronzed muscles flexed as he walked, and I unconsciously arched toward him even though he wasn’t looking.
I grew embarrassingly wet between my legs as he stalked back with swabs and bandages in his hand. His cock pushed out prominently at the front of his trousers.
He got to his knees in front of me, and I watched the top of his head as he bent to set his first aid items on the floor.
His calloused hands gripping my ankles, he pressed my legs open.
I sat there, swimming in the darkest, most illicit lust, my feet arching within the classy stilettoes, my legs spread obscenely wide, wearing only a pair of diminutive satin panties.
His jaw tightened and he murmured something gruffly in Russian, his eyes locked on the center between my thighs.
When he began unwinding the bandage, he kneeled right between my legs. My breasts hung directly in front of his face, and occasionally his eyes flicked to my puffy, swollen nipples as he uncovered my thigh.
I hissed at the sharp burn of alcohol as he swabbed the area but even the stinging bite wasn’t enough to cut through the tantalizing tension binding us together.
His fingers tenderly inspected, his head lowered, his mouth was just inches from my tingling juncture. The small gusset of my panties became slippery with my juices, and even I could smell my wet arousal.
My nipples ached, ready to be suckled, but he remained focused on putting a fresh bandage on me.
Or so I thought.
His breath coursed over my belly and across my wet center, and he tied a clean strip of gauze with a tight knot that seemed to heighten the need spreading inside of me. In the next instant, his fingers gripped the sides of my panties and he ripped them clean off me.
I gasped in surprise, and we both looked down at my engorged labia, made so plump and slick from him.
Then his wicked eyes settled briefly on mine, imparting a dirty promise.
His hands suddenly slapped against my breasts, and there was nothing tender or gentle about him then. His mouth and fingers roamed all over both round mounds, licking, squeezing, flicking, and finally he sucked a fully engorged areola into his mouth.
He sucked fiercely, wetting and nibbling while he pulsed and played with my other waiting breast.
Arkady drew wet lines of saliva into my cleavage, his stubble rasping deliciously. He then pulled the other nipple into his mouth, eagerly attending to the swollen bud.
It felt like a river of desire slipped and slid from my sex to puddle beneath my ass from his masterful ministrations.
When he released my tits to yank me closer to the edge of the bed, I moaned raggedly.
“Now give me that pussy,” he demanded roughly.
I tipped my hips forward, and his mouth descended. A high keen ripped from my throat, my neck stretching back. Sensation that had been building all day long multiplied with his greedy onslaught.
He mashed his lips to me, licking every desperate part of me.
His tongue drove into my channel, mouth widened, cheeks hollowing.
His teeth nibbled my clit, his lips tugged at my labia, his tongue twirling and flicking.
His hands gripped the very tops of my thighs, thumbs stretching my soaked pussy open.
His blue gaze drifted up to meet my eyes and, as he held me on the edge with my hole opened to his rotating tongue, he murmured, “You can grab my head this time, Lucia.”
And I did. I curled my fingers into his rich dark hair, reveling in this new sensation of touching him, finally.
After drilling his pointed tongue in and out of my channel, he grasped my bottom. He grunted and growled. He sucked and sounded like a sex-starved beast between my legs.
Exquisite hunger settled in the pit of my tummy.
My pussy clenched.
My clit quivered.
I dug my nails into the back of his neck, wailing out a wanton lament.
I erupted, wondering if this lusty madness with him would ever end.
He had made a mark on my body no other man would ever be able to compete with.
Arkady knew innately what I needed—even when I didn’t—and exactly how to give it to me.