He straddled my waist, all rippling muscles and whipcord sinews. Voice a harsh grate, he said, "Too late, angel." He fisted his shaft, bringing the head an inch from my mouth. "Open for me. Take my cum like this, and it will be etched into my memory."
When I opened, he aimed for my tongue. "Look at me," he groaned. "Keep--me--here."
Don't know what that means. But I looked up at him. Our gazes locked, and time seemed suspended. The moment was electrifying, made even more so because we were staring at each other, exposed and exposing, both awaiting his pleasure.
A single pump of his big fist wrenched a bellow from his lungs and his hot cream free.
I never looked away as it spurted between my lips, landing on my tongue. His agonized expression transformed into one of ecstasy, his eyes gleaming gold.
Only then did he break his stare, to throw back his head and roar so loud the walls seemed to shake. Fist flying up and down his cock, he jacked it for more.
I eagerly took every drop. Never get enough of him. . . .
As he emptied himself, his hand slowed and his yells faded. With his mighty chest heaving, he gazed back down at me.
Only then did I swallow with a moan.
His bewildered groan made my toes curl.
A pearly drop remained on his pierced crown. I couldn't help it; I eased forward as far as my bindings would allow and lapped it up.
"My God, Vika." He shuddered. "My God." He dropped back in the bed, sprawling across the mattress.
CHAPTER 18
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"Um, Dmitri?"
Eyes closed, sucking in lungfuls of air, he held up a finger. "Minute."
I wondered what he'd meant when he said, "Keep me here." The second time he'd told me that. Was it some kind of Russian thing?
When he finally faced me again, he didn't bother hiding his amazement. "I had heard a man could spend so hard he saw stars, but I never believed. Vika, that was a detonation."
Instead of waggling a sore jaw, he licked his lips, gaze hooded. "And you'd thought to deny me that?" With effort, he made it back to his knees. His hands were unsteady as he loosened one of the belts.
"I wish I'd had something to do with getting you there." I straightened my leg, wincing a little at the pinpricks.
He began massaging them away. "You mean beside your taste, your scent, your moans? Your response wrested that pleasure from me. Speaking of which . . ." A look of pure masculine pride lit his face. "Shame you can't come from oral sex."
That look. "You're really hot when you're insufferably proud and cocky."
He unbound and massaged my other leg. "I am proud--to have pleasured you thoroughly." He leaned over to untie my wrists, his semihard dick wagging in front of my face.
Need. He'd told me he wanted to make a woman like me addicted to him. Was I already there?
Once he'd freed me completely, he asked, "So how many times did you get off?"
I play-slapped his hip. "Four, you smug asshat."
He pulled back the cover. "In you go."
I dutifully crawled under. "Have I lost all your respect?"
"There are many things I feel for you right now. Respect is among them."
"How did you keep from fucking me?" The way his cock had strained . . .
"How is trust evaluated? By testing it." He showed me his palms. Ragged cuts and dried blood marked both. He'd dug his nails in! "It was everything I could do to keep control of myself."
Crazy man! "Why is it so important? Any other guy would've just done it."
He squared his shoulders, as if proud of what he was about to say. "I reminded myself that if I broke my promise, I could lose the best thing that's ever happened to me."
I whispered. "Me?"
"You, angel."
But I wasn't an angel. I was so far from it.
"Those bites of pain were well worth my reward." He rose, unfolding his tall frame. My gaze locked on his dick.
How would I make it through another night without sex?
He headed to my bathroom, giving me the view of his powerful back and shoulders, his lean hips. . . .
His ass.
Good thing I'm not standing.
His taut cheeks were sculpted with hollows on the sides. The play of contracting muscles taunted my nails to dig into them. I wanted to grip that flesh as he pounded me. I imagined nipping him there, and a whimper escaped my lips.
He paused, then walked on, saying, "Are you objectifying me, Vika?"
A laugh bubbled up.
When he returned, he pulled on his clothes before my rapt gaze. I kept thinking, That god of a man just came from my bed. . . .
Dressed, he sat beside me. "I am pleased we have things settled now."
"Settled?" Oh. That.
"You and I are exclusive with one another."
As I stared into his thrall eyes, I figured, Well, we could be exclusive.
Ah! I dragged my gaze away. "I can't look at you."
He pinched my chin, forcing me to meet his eyes. "Why, angel?" Hurt flashed across his expression.
"Because I feel as if I'm under some kind of spell. You look at me like this, and I can't think. And worse, I can't seem to tell you no."
"Then never tell me no."
"You're crazy." I bit my tongue as soon as the words left it. I hadn't meant to say it earlier either.
"Yes. I am on occasion. But tonight I wasn't."
I needed to get to the bottom of this. There were different levels and types of crazy, right? He was probably just a social oddball, an eccentric--
"I have a gift for you."
Gift???
He reached into a jacket pocket. "Close your eyes, and keep them closed."
I did.
"I hope you like diamonds." Cool metal glided over my collarbones and neck. The strand was heavy. "You can look now."
I gasped at the necklace. A dozen large diamonds were spaced randomly down a platinum chain, each one set in a bezel of tiny sapphires. The stones came in all different shapes: oval, pear, marquise, triangular. The necklace had no discernible pattern. I loved it!
Though ridiculously picky about clothes and jewelry, I could wear this piece forever. "Are you dicking with me?"
"No. I am not."
I dragged my gaze from the sparkling rocks. "Ah, you do want to be my sugar daddy. A piece of jewelry for an orgasm. It is Vegas after all."
"If I paid you what that orgasm was worth to me, I'd be back in the research lab because I would be penniless."
And here comes the charm. I couldn't stop a grin.
"I gave you that necklace because it's a good start for your collection. I warn you now, I will spoil you to an embarrassing degree."
I tilted my head. "You're not the first man to tell me things like this. To make promises."
"Then I'll be the first man smart enough to keep them. I will pick you up tomorrow at one. Pack for warm weather." I got the sense that leaving me pained him. As soon as the thought occurred, he informed me, "This will be the last night I part from you."
I couldn't allow myself to believe the promise in his eyes--because it was way too soon. Plus, he was a man.
But what if . . . ?
At the door, he said, "Have sweet dreams, moy angel. Mine will be of you."
What if, what if, what if? Once he'd locked me in and I heard the limo leave, I squealed with happiness, drumming my feet on the bed.
CHAPTER 19
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At ten till one, a knock sounded. I was still in my underwear! "Just a sec," I called, shimmying past my overnight bag to reach my closet.
I grabbed a simple black linen sheath I'd made. The shortest part of the asymmetrical hem hit just above my knees. I smoothed my hands down the front, proud of my work, then stepped into pointy-toed black pumps.
My gaze
lit on my new necklace, laid out on my duvet. Last night, I'd sent a picture of it to the family's conference line along with a message: Got drama from night before worked out with Sevastyan. Had great dinner. Going on trip tomorrow at 1:00. All good. Please, sleep better.
After I'd signed off, I'd danced naked to A-ha while I packed. I was dying of curiosity about our "warm" destination.
This morning, Karin had called for a real update.
I'd filled her in, admitting, "He gave me a taste of something I don't think I can live without." So how would I feel if he took my key away?
"Listen to your voice, Vice," she'd said. "You're falling in love with him!"
"No, I'm not." Falling in lust maybe. But those flashes of crazy kept me on edge. "He's got more red flags than Soviet Russia. He is obsessed with me. He's jealous and possessive and controlling."
"Yet you're letting him take you on a trip?"
"We're running out of time." With Karin's recent score, Lucia's watch, my car, and the necklace, we had to be getting close. "To the grave, remember?"
"We didn't mean your grave."
"He'd never hurt me. My grift sense cleared him. . . ."
Now I pulled on the necklace, brushing my fingers over the stones. Soon Dmitri would be out of my life, his gift converted to cash. All I'd have would be a photo of this to remember.
My eyes threatened to water. Maybe I was a softie.
Inner shake. I finished dressing, then quickly assessed my outfit in the mirror. I'd kept my accessories simple--a light silver pashmina and my little silver purse looped over my shoulder--so my necklace would be the focus. I'd lined my eyes, but wore nude lipstick. I'd left my hair free to curl down my back.
Work the con, Vice.
Ha. I kept assuring myself I was acting in the interest of the con. But I feared I was already addicted to him.
My stomach felt fluttery as I carried my bag to the front door. With a wide smile, I opened up. "Hey, big--"
Brett.
I froze.
He looked like hell, his face unshaven with dark circles under his eyes. "It's so good to see you, Tori." The nickname dredged up a slew of memories.
Tori, w-will you go to the movies with me? . . . I love you, Tori. . . . Will you marry me, Tori? . . . Please, Tori, she didn't mean anything to me!
He pointed to the green notice on my door. "They're gonna evict you?"
Finding my voice, I said, "That doesn't concern you."
"Of course it does. Come back home. Please. I'll do anything."
Home? We'd been broken up for a year. And Dmitri would arrive any minute! "You've got to go. Now."
"Why?"
"I have a date who'll be here shortly. This isn't fair for you to barge in on me like this."
He frowned. "Then why did you tell me to come over at one?"
"What are you talking about?"
He took his phone out of his jeans pocket and showed me an e-mail--sent from my account two hours ago--that did indeed ask him to come over to talk.
Who the hell had sent it? Anyone in my family could have accessed my account--they all knew !jiepdll!ozqkml14** was my password--but they also knew Dmitri would be here at one.
They'd never let anything interrupt my budding relationship with a jealous, possessive, controlling billionaire--
My eyes widened. But they'd do anything to accelerate it.
Whoever had e-mailed Brett was using him as an unwitting shill--to create a crisis of jealousy for Dmitri.
Too soon in the timeline! Too freaking personal.
Just yesterday, Karin had talked about manufacturing a crisis. Had it been her? "I'm sorry, Brett, but I didn't e-mail you. Someone must be . . . playing a prank. Or something."
"A prank?" The pain in his eyes was stark. He'd gotten his hopes up.
I reminded myself I'd probably shown him the same stark look when I'd caught him with another woman.
Brett's gaze lit on my diamonds, then dropped to my luggage on the floor. "You've got an overnight date? Who is this guy?"
"That hasn't been your business since you cheated on me."
He swiped a hand down his face. "I fucked up with you. I know how bad. But this can't be over. We were made for each other."
"I used to think so."
"It's still true. Please forgive me. Please take me back. Every second of the day, I'm trying to come up with something to say to convince you to give me another chance." His eyes glinted.
I once loved those hazel eyes, had thought I'd wake up to them for the rest of my life. "I can't come back from what I saw, Brett. I'm just not capable of it."
"I wish to God I could go back in time and change that night!"
Though I'd spent twelve months shying away from that memory, it welled up in my mind.
Brett and I had thrown a pre-season football party, but my family had called me in for a last-minute assist--drinks with promising investors/marks. I'd closed the tax-evaders early, so I'd hurried home, wending through shit-faced friends to get to the bedroom and change into my jersey. Brett and the tawny-haired bombshell hadn't heard me open the door. . . .
Now I told him, "When I walked in on you two, it took me the longest time to register what I was seeing."
"Tori, please don't."
They'd been naked in the bed I'd shared with him, frantically kissing, and he'd had his fingers inside her. Getting her ready. She'd been stroking him as his hips bucked to her fist. Unlike me, she had enhanced breasts and legs for miles.
As I'd choked back bile, my mind had been a chaos of jarring thoughts:
He's about to screw her. How long has this been going on? He and I had sex there hours ago. We talked about getting a puppy after our honeymoon. I just washed those sheets. I spent the entire day cleaning for our football party. He knows I don't even like football. But I'm supportive. I was supportive. He's about to do it.
Between kisses, he'd said to the woman, "I don't even know your last name."
The words had jolted me out of my stupor. He'd thrown me away for a quickie? A one-nighter with a stranger? I'd snapped, "Guess I should've bought motherfucking name tags for our party."
As I'd stormed out, I'd spotted her Jubilee! showgirls T-shirt on my freshly vacuumed floor. . . .
What if I hadn't caught him? What if I'd lived my life not knowing what pushed my buttons?
Black-haired, golden-eyed Russians with dominant streaks and wicked games.
I'd been devastated by Brett's actions, yet never been able to empathize. I'd never been able to imagine a desire so strong I'd risk everything to ease it.
After Dmitri, I had a clearer picture. In a haunted tone, I said, "I could see how much you wanted her; you were about to explode from it." Queasiness overwhelmed me. "There's no way you would've pulled away from that girl."
"I was about to, Tori!"
I cringed. Nails on a chalkboard.
How could I ever trust another man not to fall prey to his desires? I'd recognized I would need a grand gesture, some kind of overwhelming proof that I was the only one a partner would ever want.
Looking at my ex-fiance now, I realized no action would ever be enough to convince me. "You're here to reconcile, and yet you're lying right now."
He opened his mouth to tell me another one, so I raised my hand to stop him.
"I'm done." Over his shoulder, I saw a long, cool limo roll up. Shit.
Dmitri was out the door before the car fully stopped, six and a half feet of furious Russian, crossing to stand beside me. "Victoria?"
I swallowed. "Dmitri, this is Brett Wilson. Brett, Dmitri Sevastyan."
Former linebacker Brett had to gaze up to him. "He is your date?"
Even with his murderous expression, Dmitri looked every inch the billionaire. "I'm more than a mere date. Come, Vika, we will be late for the courthouse. For our wedding."
I did a double take. Wait, what?
Brett grabbed my arm, his face panicked. "Wedding?"
Dmitri's demean
or turned even more chilling. "Release. Her. Now."
"Or what?" My ex had at least twenty pounds of bulk on Dmitri. "Don't make me hurt you."
"Brett, he's got bodyguards." Starsky and Hutch stood beside the limo on high alert.
Dmitri's voice made the hairs on my nape stand up as he said, "No one touches what's mine."
"What's yours, pal?" Brett bowed up, readying for a fight.
"I'm giving you one last chance to let her go. As you already did before."
"Fuck off, man, or I will lay you out. This is between Tori and me--"
In one lightning fast movement, Dmitri yanked Brett's hand from me and launched a punch to his stomach.
Brett's breath left him in a rush.
"No! Stop this!" Before I could get between them, Brett recovered, yelling with fury. He swung for Dmitri's face.
Neatly dodging him, Dmitri stepped back. With his lips curving into a sneer, he raised one hand and motioned for Brett to try again.
Brett yelled and swung, but Dmitri drew his head back with plenty of time--and with utter confidence.
The Russian knew how to fight. "I'll thrash you simply for not appreciating what you had." The menace in his eyes . . .
When a man like Brett fought, he might give somebody a shiner, maybe knock some teeth loose. When a man like Dmitri fought, someone was going to die.
The bodyguards made no move to intervene, not that they needed to protect their boss.
"I'm leaving with you now, Dmitri!" I said. "Please, don't hurt him. Let's just go."
Never taking his gaze from his opponent, Dmitri slowly shook his head.
Brett threw another punch. Dmitri dodged and launched a hit of his own. His fist connected with Brett's nose.
A distinct crack sounded. Brett fell to his knees, holding his face. Blood poured through his fingers.
"Jesus!" I dropped beside him, laying a hand on his back. "Are you okay?" I gazed up at Dmitri. "Damn it, don't hit him again!"
Though Dmitri's eyes were wild, he pulled me to my feet so gently. "Then come with me."
To separate them, I let Dmitri usher me into the limo. As we drove away, I looked back through the rear window.
Brett lurched to his feet, blood pouring. "Please don't do this, Tori!" he yelled. "Ah, God, please don't!"
I squeezed my eyes shut and put my hands over my ears, wanting to block everything out. When I felt the limo turn a corner, I dropped my hands and turned to Dmitri. "What the hell was that?"