I swallow thickly, unsure of what the right answer is. If I’m reading this right, Yan has just staked some sort of an exclusive claim on me, one that I would reinforce if I admitted to this made-up hunger.
Is that what I want?
To send away the brother who’s been nice to me, so I can be alone with the man who proposed dumping my body in the river?
“A… a sandwich would be nice.” The words don’t seem to belong to me, yet it’s my voice saying them, even as my brain scrambles to figure out the implications. “That is, if it wouldn’t be too much trouble.”
Ilya’s mouth thins. “Fine. I’ll see what we have in the fridge.”
And turning around, he stalks off, leaving me on the couch with his brother.
4
Yan
I turn to Mina, my heart pounding with dark triumph. I was almost certain I’d read her correctly, but now I know for sure.
She wants me.
She wants this.
Her blue eyes are wary as I take the cup from her hand and set it down on the coffee table, then clasp her hand and stand up, pulling her to her feet. Her palm is small and clammy in my grasp, shaking slightly. She really is nervous, this strange girl who’s willing to sleep with a man who kidnapped and threatened to kill her.
“Come with me.” Somehow, my voice is cool and steady, even as my blood burns with the need to possess her, to throw her down on the couch and fuck her right here and now, Ilya’s nearness be damned.
“C-come where?”
Instead of a reply, I lead her to my bedroom, ignoring the hesitation obvious in her halting stride. Pulling her into the room, I shut the door behind us, and turn the lock for good measure.
Then I face her.
Her pale face is flushed with a delicate peach color, her lips parted as she stares up at me. “Are you…” She moistens her lower lip. “Are you going to kill me? Afterward?”
A dark smile tugs at my lips. “What do you think?”
She swallows. “I’m not sure.”
“Yet you’re here. Why?”
She doesn’t reply, but her color heightens, answering me as clearly as if she’d spoken the words.
She’s here because she wants me.
Because she feels this hunger, too.
I’ve been hard from the moment I laid my hand on her knee and saw her pupils dilate in response, but the need that’s pounding through me now is almost violent in nature, savage and uncontrolled. I like pretty things, and she’s pretty all right, but this is so much more. I’ve never wanted a woman this much, have never known a craving so consuming. I was going to toy with her, to prolong the delicious anticipation of this moment, but my hands reach for her of their own accord, pulling her toward me as I bend my head and claim her lips in a deep, darkly carnal kiss.
A tiny gasp escapes her throat, a sound half of protest, half of surprise, but instead of pushing me away, her small hands reach up to clasp my head, her fingers sliding into my hair as she presses against me in unabashed desire. She tastes like honey-flavored tea, her mouth sleek and warm as her tongue tangles with mine, her teeth sinking aggressively into my bottom lip.
Whatever self-control I still possessed evaporates at the tiny hint of pain. With a low growl, I back her against the bed, yanking the sweater over her head and throwing it aside as she falls backward onto the blanket. Underneath, she’s wearing a white tank top with no bra, and the sight of her erect nipples under the thin fabric sends more blood surging to my groin. Vision turning hazy with lust, I climb onto the bed and straddle her narrow hips. Her torso is slender, almost too much so, but her breasts are deliciously round, surprisingly full for her tiny build. My hands ache to touch them, to mold them in my palms as I drive deep into her body, and I give in to the craving, roughly palming the soft globes as I bend to kiss her ravenously again.
She responds with a matching aggression, her tongue pushing against mine and her hands tearing at the buttons of my shirt. A couple of buttons go flying, and I hear them skitter on the floor, but I couldn’t care less about the destruction of my clothing. My own hands are already ripping at her tank top, tearing it off her body as I keep devouring her mouth, unable to get enough of the addictive honey taste.
The rest of our clothes come off in a frenzy, my Italian slacks tangling with her ripped jeans on the corner of the bed, and then I have her naked and squirming underneath me, her nails raking down my back as I rain biting kisses down her neck, her collarbone, her gorgeous breasts. Her taut nipple pops into my mouth, and I suck on it, reveling in her gasping moans as my hand travels down her body, skating over her narrow ribcage and flat stomach before reaching the smooth columns of her thighs and the heated slickness of her sex.
She has a bellybutton ring, I note with a still-functioning corner of my mind, and a few lines of writing tattooed on her left side. I want to explore it all in detail, to slow down and look over her sleek body, committing it to memory, but the lust beating at me is too strong to be denied. Pushing her thighs apart, I move down, my mouth watering at the thought of tasting that warm wetness.
Her pussy is as pretty as the rest of her, pink and smooth, completely shaven, and I dive right into my feast, my tongue lapping at her soaked slit before moving up her folds. “Oh, fuck,” she moans, her hips rising convulsively as I reach my target, and her hands bunch in my hair, squeezing tightly as I suck, then rhythmically lick her clit, letting my teeth graze it in between. She’s salty sweet, as delicious as I expected, and my cock throbs with a desperate need to be inside her, my balls drawing tight against my body as I up the tempo, craving her orgasm as much as I do my own.
Her moans grow in volume, her hips pumping up and down with rising urgency as I continue, and I feel the exact moment it happens for her. With a cry, she arches against me, her eyes scrunched shut and her whole body shaking as more richly flavored wetness coats my lips and tongue. I wait a couple of seconds for her spasms to ease, and then I move up, covering her with my body.
“Wait,” she gasps, her eyes popping open as I wedge my knee between her thighs, spreading them apart. Her pupils are dilated, her face pink and glowing with a hint of perspiration. “I’m not on the… I don’t have—”
“I’ve got it,” I growl, unable to believe I almost forgot something so basic. Holding myself up with one hand, I reach into the tangle of clothing in the corner and fish out a foil packet I always carry in my wallet. My teeth make quick work of the wrapper, and I roll the condom onto my cock before guiding it to her slick folds.
Then I press in, blood pounding in my temples.
5
Mina
I tense, my breath seizing in my lungs as he pushes in, his thick cock penetrating me slowly but inexorably. I’m wetter than I recall ever being, but even with my body primed for his possession, I feel a stinging stretch. He’s big, and it’s been far too long for me.
He must feel the difficulty I’m having because he pauses, his jaw locked tight and his green eyes fiercely narrowed on my face. “Am I hurting you?” His voice is rough, hoarse with lust, his powerful shoulders tense above me. There’s no trace of his urbane veneer now, no hint of the smooth sophisticate from the bar. Without his tailored clothes, he looks like the savage predator he is, his large, hard-muscled body as lethal as it is perfectly proportioned.