"I'm not going to last long this first time, Blythe. I want to be in you. Hands and knees, baby. I'm going to take you hard and fast and then the second time we'll slow things down and I can look into your eyes and see you get there. I love looking at you when you come."
She was on her hands and knees fast, turning away from him, staring out over the river, feeling the sway of her breasts, her body on fire. He knelt up behind her, his hand moving between her legs to test her readiness, although he had to know she was more than ready. She pushed back, her breath coming in ragged little pants.
"Hurry, honey," she whispered. "You have to hurry."
"I love that you're always ready for me. Always as eager as I am." He circled his shaft with his fist and tore the condom wrapper with his teeth. He rolled it on and then lodged the broad head in her entrance.
Her breath hissed out. He was so hot. She tried to push back and impale herself but he dug his fingers into her hip to hold her still.
"Careful, baby. You haven't done this for a while. I don't want you hurt. I'm going to go slow until I know you're all right."
"I won't be all right if you don't get on with it. I need you inside me," she instructed, turning her head to look at him over her shoulder.
He pushed in an inch and she gasped. The feeling was so good. He waited a moment for her body to adjust. "You're tight. Scorching hot and so tight you're practically strangling me."
"I can feel your heart beat right through your cock," she said, stumbling a little over the word. He'd taught her that, amused that she'd never used that word. He'd taught her a lot of things, things that at first made her blush, but then gave her so much pleasure she wanted to do them all the time.
He pushed deeper, and she couldn't help the moan that escaped. He was full, stretching her, her tight muscles rippling around him, greedy for him, wanting to pull him deeper, wanting to milk him.
"The second I can, I'll go to a clinic and prove to you that I'm clean and haven't been with anyone, Blythe," he promised, "so I don't have to wear a glove. I know you don't like them."
She didn't. She'd been the one to insist they stop using them when they were married. She wanted to feel every inch of him, just like she did now. He pushed deeper, and then surged forward, burying himself to the hilt. The breath hissed out of her in one long rush. Her body clamped down on his, holding him even tighter.
He groaned and began to move. Slow strokes that sent streaks of fire through her. He'd always hit every single important spot and he did now, so that with each surge into her, he sent ripples of pleasure bursting through her. He began to pick up the pace and she felt a sob of pure joy welling up. Making love with Viktor had always been an adventure, but it was beautiful and perfect and felt so, so good. After all the time without, it felt even better than she remembered--and she'd kept those memories close.
Even after all three times he'd made her orgasm with his mouth, she was close--so close right away. Coiling tight. Panting out demands for more. For harder. He obliged, picking up the pace, sending those fiery streaks radiating out from her center to every part of her body. The cool air kissed her hot skin, adding to her pleasure every time the breeze brushed over her.
His fingers dug into her hips and he pulled her into him as he thrust forward. Again and again. She pushed back, her breath hitching in her lungs. It was heaven. Perfection. It always was with Viktor. He moved in her like he belonged. Like they shared the same skin. Their movements were always perfectly in tune, just like they had been on his bike.
"You close?"
"So close."
"Get there," he demanded, his voice harsh with urgency.
She let go instantly, her muscles coiling tight around him, gripping and milking his cock. His breath slammed out of his lungs and his cock swelled and his balls drew up. Then he was emptying himself into her, filling the condom, his heart pounding right along with hers, his breath ragged and his body beginning that slow glide that she remembered he liked to do when his release was spectacular.
She went down on her elbows because she couldn't keep herself up, but she was smiling. She didn't think she'd ever stop. Her breathing was labored, her lungs burned for air, but nothing could stop her smile. Her body felt great. Great.
Behind her, Viktor pulled out of her, the drag over the sensitive bundle of nerves causing another ripple of pure pleasure spreading through her. He sank back, one hand still on her bare cheek, rubbing gently, lovingly. He'd always liked to touch her and apparently that hadn't changed. Removing the condom, he knotted it and tossed it aside.
"Come here, baby," he murmured softly, reaching for her.
They lay on their backs looking up at the sky, breathing hard, neither speaking for a long moment. Viktor moved first, wrapping her hair around his finger and tugging gently. "I love you, Blythe. So much."
She turned her head to look at him. To look into his eyes. "I love you too."
His smile was slow in coming, but this one reached his eyes and melted her heart. "I brought food. Wine. Everything you like."
"When did you pack for a picnic?"
"I brought them with me to your house in the hopes I could talk you into riding with me. I changed my mind when things got intense, and then you asked me to take you on the motorcycle and our picnic was on again."
"I'm glad I did. I loved it. You don't have to use a condom next time. I trust you when you say you haven't been with anyone else. I haven't either, so we're good."
There was relief in his eyes, and satisfaction as well, but he didn't say anything.
"They saw us."
He didn't ask whom. He knew. He grinned at her, reached out and tucked stray strands of hair behind her ear. "I know. We don't have any modesty. I told you that. We were all naked together for years. They couldn't care less. Did it upset you?"
She thought it should have, but the reality was it hadn't. She didn't know why. Because she was with Viktor and they were different together? Because his club was different? "I'd rather not make a habit of it." Truthfully, it was because she was with Viktor and he made her forget everything but pleasure.
"I can't promise that; they're always going to be around." His tone was cautious. "I could ask them . . ."
"Don't worry about it." She wasn't. She didn't think she was an exhibitionist, but truthfully, in the moment, she hadn't even been embarrassed. "I want them to protect you."
"They'll protect you too."
They probably would if they knew she was important to Viktor. She turned her head and pressed a kiss against his neck and then looked back up at the stars. "I loved riding the motorcycle. Thank you for taking me."
"Do you understand now? We were locked up for so long, sometimes in the dark with no light. The air would get so stifling, so stale, we could barely breathe. We'd lie on the floor if we weren't chained to the wall and listen to one another gasp like fish out of water in the heat, or shivering with cold in the winter. It stank of sweat, urine and feces. There was no bathroom. We had a corner of the room we went in if we could get there. Those chained to the wall couldn't even do that. With the heat, it was unbearable. Add to that injuries, the blood from the floggings and beatings, which drew insects and rats. It was a nightmare world."
Blythe was so horrified she couldn't look at him. She kept staring at the stars, identifying constellations even as she listened to him, her heart beating too hard. He sounded matter-of-fact when he casually told her about pieces of his childhood, but the rage was there, swelling in him and pouring out without him seemingly aware of it.
"The first time I ever tried riding on a motorcycle, I knew I wanted to be on one for the rest of my life. The wind was in my face and I could see the open road in front of me. I'd never experienced anything like it. I was on one of the first weeklong assignments, just twenty-one. I couldn't wait to get back and tell the others. It was the first thing I did when I was able to leave that place--buy my own motorcycle with the money I'd stolen and socked away on each of my assi
gnments."
He turned onto his side in order to cup her breast. His thumb brushed her nipple gently, back and forth in small caresses. He lifted his head and kissed the tattoo just under her left breast. The key. The one that could open the lock over his heart. They'd gotten the tattoos together.
"I dreamt about this. When the nightmares got too bad and I hadn't slept for days," he whispered against the underside of her breast. "I would lie on my bed and think about you. Every inch of you. I pushed my thumb into the center of my palm and I'd build the image of you in my mind. Then I'd start from the top of your head to the bottom of your feet. I'd kiss you, remembering every detail of your mouth. Your lips and tongue. The way you taste."
He lifted his head to kiss her. Long, slow, drugging kisses that started a slow burn. He kept kissing her, cupping her breast in his palm without moving any other part of him. It drove her mad. She wanted more. Heat spread through her veins and went straight like an arrow between her legs.
"Nothing was better than the motorcycle until I met you. You wipe that place out of my head for long periods of time. Your laughter. Your magic. This sweet, sweet body of yours."
His sexy talk was making her burn all over again. He'd always been that way. He could make her want him with one smoldering look, and when he talked, no matter what he said, how crude he was, or where they were, he melted her inside and she craved him.
"I'd get so damned hard I'd have to start pumping my cock. Slow at first while I thought about your breasts. How much I liked sucking on your nipples. Teasing you. Driving you wild. You're so sensitive here."
He took his time lowering his head, his tongue tracing a circle around her left nipple and then her right one. He planted dozens of kisses over the curves of her breasts, drew letters with his tongue, pulled each soft mound into his mouth and then suckled strongly while she gasped and arched her back. The moment she went to cradle his head to her, he pulled back.
"I'd imagine you lying under me, and I'd spread your legs wide." He shifted his body over hers and nudged her thighs apart.
She didn't take her eyes from his face. He looked like carnal sin. So beautiful. Rising above her, his hand on her mound, thumb circling her clit. "What would you imagine?" she whispered, drinking him in.
"My mouth between your legs. Eating you until you screamed for me. I always have loved that you're very vocal about what you want. Your pleasure. That you're always willing to try anything once with me."
"It's never once," she pointed out. "You make everything so good that once is never enough." His fingers were in her now, curling and sweeping, stabbing deep and retreating. She wanted him again with every breath she drew.
"I wonder if those were the nights I couldn't sleep and I'd lie awake under the fan, no clothes, my body burning for yours," Blythe whispered, looking right into his molten eyes. Silver, like the moon. So beautiful. "I'd be so hot and it hurt between my legs, I was so empty without you. I'd push my thumb into my palm and think about you. About your body, your mouth and eyes, all your muscles that you know I love, but mostly about your cock."
He withdrew his fingers, and she took advantage, going up on her knees. "Stand up for me, honey."
"Anything for you, Blythe," he said and obeyed her.
His semihard cock had grown as he'd talked to her into just plain hard. She wrapped her fingers around him. "I have a toy in the drawer by my bed." She licked her lips, her tongue making a slow circle to moisten them in preparation.
"We're going to be using that toy together, Blythe," he warned in a husky growling tone that sent a shiver of desire down her spine.
"I'm okay with that. Just as long as I have you in my mouth while you're playing." She knelt up, caressing his shaft and heavy balls, cupping the velvet spheres and then leaning down to slowly and gently draw first one and then the other into her mouth. She licked along them and under them, and then up his shaft while his breath hissed out.
His hands went to her breasts, cupping them, thumbs gliding over her nipples, but when her mouth took him deep, he shuddered and caught her head in his hands. She never took her eyes from his. She knew what he liked. She knew he wanted to watch her. That he liked not only the feel of her mouth, but the look of her lips stretched around his girth. He always told her how much that turned him on, but more, she felt it. She always felt his response to everything she did to him. He loved it when she did this to him, and she loved doing it just as much.
His hips began to move, gently. He was always gentle when he was in her mouth; even when he went deep, he took care with her. She was never afraid. In the beginning, before she knew she could trust him absolutely, maybe then she'd panicked once or twice, but not now. Now, she could enjoy what she was doing. The heat. The velvet over steel. The scent and taste of him. How sexy he made her feel. She wondered fleetingly if the men watching over him were watching, and then Viktor groaned and she forgot everything but what she was doing.
"Can't take much more, baby. I've still got that hair trigger from being without you for so long. Your mouth is fucking paradise."
He gently pulled away from her and she couldn't help following, licking at him like an ice-cream cone while his body shuddered with pleasure.
"Lie down. I want you under me."
She went to her back and waited for him to blanket her. Putting her feet flat on the blanket, legs spread wide, she cradled his hips in hers. He didn't need any other invitation. He pushed into her, groaning as her scorching heat surrounded him.
"So fucking tight, Blythe. You feel so good I'm not certain I'm going to survive this time."
She smiled at him and lifted her hips to meet his. Her gaze never left his. He threaded the fingers of one hand through hers and held her arm stretched out above her head while she wrapped her other arm around him. His free arm locked around her hips and he lifted her into him.
They moved together, never taking their eyes from each other. She drank him in. The love on his face brought tears to her eyes. He might not show expression to others, but when they were alone like this, there could be no doubt that he was truly in love with her.
Their breathing mingled with the sound of the river, the frogs and crickets. She didn't turn her head to see her surroundings or look up at the star-studded sky. There was only Viktor filling every one of her senses. She gave herself to him and he gave himself to her. She felt that. Knew that was what he was doing.
"You're safe with me, Blythe," he whispered. "I swear to you, I'm only yours. For good or bad, I'm with you."
He'd said those words to her on the night he'd taken her to the Russian church in San Francisco. He'd meant every word. She felt the absolute sincerity surrounding her. There had been no doubt then. Why hadn't she remembered that moment and actively searched? Asked questions? Tried to figure out what happened, especially after Lev came into their lives and she saw the mark he put on Rikki?
"Don't. We can only go forward. Stay with me right now. Keep looking at me."
She couldn't look away. She didn't want to. She knew it was her commitment to him and he would hold her to it. She wanted him, and if the past came between them sometimes, they'd both have to handle it.
They spent the night on the blanket, making love, sipping red wine. He preferred beer but he'd remembered her favorite wine and brought that instead. He brought fruit, all her favorites. Crackers and cheeses. Even honey to put on the cheese and crackers, a rare but favorite indulgence.
They talked about everything and nothing. Most of the time they made love or slept wrapped in each other's arms.
He woke her before the sun was up. They had to get back before light. He didn't want to chance that Evan might have sent more than one team to watch them. She didn't mind, because she loved the way he woke her up, and she couldn't wait to ride the motorcycle again.
15
"ELLE. Jackson. Thank you both for coming."
Viktor watched from his vantage point where he leaned one hip against the archway leading to the k
itchen as Blythe stepped back to allow the couple entry into her home. The moment Jackson stepped inside, his restless eyes took in everything, stopped on Viktor and stayed there. Behind him, his wife, Elle Drake, came in. With her came a surge of unbelievable power.
Viktor was sensitive to energies, and the woman was extremely dangerous. Power crackled, and then she turned her gaze toward him and he saw her draw in her breath and glance at her husband. For support? With that kind of power? She was small with sheets and sheets of bright red hair. She didn't look like she could handle herself, but he knew better by the way she moved and the energy gathered around her.
Elle hugged Blythe hard, her eyes a little wary, but still affectionate. Blythe had called Jackson, not her cousin, to invite them to come over the next evening to talk. She'd told him it was about Evan Shackler-Gratsos and it wasn't great news but extremely important.
Viktor had told her to be very careful what she revealed in a phone conversation and not to mention him. It was do or die here. The cop was either going to blow Viktor's cover and get him killed or he'd help. Viktor was betting his life that the man would be willing to help in spite of being the law. Once before, when he'd gone up against Evan's brother, Jackson had taken the law into his own hands. Viktor had to hope he'd do the same now. He believed absolutely that Evan was much more dangerous than Stavros Gratsos had ever been.
Jackson nodded to Blythe but kept his gaze on Viktor. All the while his body partially blocked his wife from stepping all the way into the great room until he'd cleared it. Blythe shut the door, walked straight over to Viktor and took his hand, in an effort to show solidarity. Viktor moved slightly to edge her over so he could shield her if things went to hell.
"Come in and sit down. We have beer, coffee, tea and fresh strawberry lemonade," she said, waving toward the inviting chairs.
"Coffee for me," Jackson said.
"The lemonade sounds lovely," Elle added. She looked at Viktor. "I don't believe we've met."
"I'm sorry, Elle," Blythe said. "I should have started with that. I'm a little nervous. This is Viktor Prakenskii, my husband."