10. Bronwyn

10

brONWYN

I had time for one little mewl of shock as his lips came down on mine. Then the mewl turned to a groan as my brain caught up and heady pink pleasure rolled through me.

He broke the kiss for a second, looked at me and breathed something in Russian, a word so delicate and pretty it sounded like it was made of tinkling, fragile glass. “ Krasavitsa.” I didn’t know if it was a nickname or a compliment or both but it made a warm rush of pride flood my body.

Then he was kissing me again. His kiss was warm and surprisingly gentle: it lifted me, comforted me, and his hands on my cheeks anchored me in place and stopped me drifting back to the two men. But there was something else, a trembling undercurrent like the rumble of a massive machine that’s being held at an idle. I could feel how much he wanted me, even if he was only letting one percent of it out, right now. It throbbed down from my lips and raced through my body, turning to raw, liquid heat as it hit my groin.

My lips parted. And everything changed.

His lips spread mine, his tongue tracing them before plunging inside. He twisted our bodies around, the kiss growing and rising. I grabbed for him, my hands climbing his back. I needed handholds because it felt like the bookstore was dissolving around me, leaving me in a hot, dark world where I couldn’t think at all and there was nothing solid except him. His lips pressed and moved, tasting me, while his tongue sought me out. And the instant the tip of my tongue brushed his, I heard him growl, deep in his throat…

He broke the kiss, panting. I opened my eyes, confused. He dropped his hands from my face and grabbed my hands instead, lacing his fingers with mine. He was on the very brink, wrestling for control.

I was still kiss-drunk and I had to swallow and work my lips before I could speak. “You don’t...want to?”

His hands tightened on mine. “I’ve wanted to since the first second I saw you.” His accent carved the words into silky-smooth ice that seared my mind. He took a deep, shuddering breath. “But…” He glanced at the ruined bookstore. The counter where the British guy had tried to?—

He was saying it was okay. He was saying he understood. He was saying he’d wait. “Do you want to stop?” he asked quietly.

I took a deep breath, thinking. What I wanted was to chase the memories away. “Fuck no,” I panted.

His hands squeezed mine and I saw his whole body tense, an animal ready to pounce. His white shirt pulled tight over his pecs, and I saw the shadows of his tattoos. What the fuck did I just do?

Then he tugged me against him and his lips were on mine again. This time, he wasn’t gentle. This time, it was about releasing the pent-up need, kissing me before he burst with it. And I understood because I needed him that much too. I kissed him like he was giving me breath, like I’d die if we disconnected again. He was pressed against me, a wall of warm granite that I crushed my softness to. The brutal energy of him throbbed down into me with every hard press of his lips, crackling streamers of pleasure arcing down inside me and filling me up. The heat of him soaked into me, washing away the memories until all that existed was now.

However hard we kissed, it wasn’t enough. Panting and breathless, we started to move, shuffling away from the door, pinwheeling blindly as we bumped into tables. My hands broke free of his: I had to feel him. My hands grabbed his forearms and slid up the deliciously solid contours, up to his biceps, his shoulders, feeling the broad swells of muscle through his suit and shirt. Too many layers.

He must have thought the same because I suddenly felt his fingers working the top button of my blouse. I could still feel the bright burn of the store’s lights on my closed eyelids: anyone walking past would see whatever happened next.

I didn’t want to open my eyes, but I had to check where we were. I opened them and found our whirling dance had taken us to the middle of the store. Radimir was on me: oh, God, he was so on me, hulking over me, and the size of him, so close up, made me go weak. I didn’t want to break the kiss, but I had to, just for a second. I wasn’t strong enough to drag him where I needed us to go unless he cooperated. I dragged my lips from him. “ One sec,” I panted.

His eyes half opened, his lids heavy with lust. I grabbed hold of his shirt and pulled him with me, backing us up to the door. Then I turned the key to lock it and wiped my hand across the panel of light switches, plunging the store into darkness. I went to kiss him again, but I didn’t get time to: the instant I turned back to him, he was kissing me again and I moaned, the kiss lifting me like a wave.

He started moving us again, pushing me back as he popped the buttons on my blouse, stopping only when my ass pressed up against one of the book tables. My blouse came open and he pulled the sides wide. His hands skimmed around my back and my bra suddenly went loose. Then I groaned as he palmed my breasts, filling his hands with them and squeezing in time with his kisses, my nipples stiffening as they stroked his palms.

He whirled me around, then pulled my back against his chest. He kissed down the line of my jaw, down my neck, down to my collar bone, while his strong hands squeezed my breasts with just the right amount of urgent roughness. He circled my nipples with his thumbs, coaxing them to sweet, agonizing hardness and I trembled against him. I could feel his cock, hot and hard and powerful, grinding against my ass, and it made the pleasure twist into a needy ache. I said his name, except it didn’t come out as Radimir. “Mr... Aristov,” my fuddled brain managed.

He growled and his hands slid down my body to the fly of my jeans. The buttons popped open in a machine-gun rattle that made me catch my breath, and then his hands slid inside. He smoothed his hands over my ass, squeezing my cheeks through my panties. Then one hand swept around to the front, and I groaned and folded forwards as he stroked my pussy with two fingers. I could feel how wet I was, the filmy fabric soaked through.

He returned one hand to my breasts and used it to press my upper body back against him. His lips moved against my ear as he began to rub me. “Your breasts are beautiful.” He squeezed one breast, then rubbed his thumb over the nipple and I gasped. His voice tightened with lust. “My innocent little librarian, tending her bookstore…”

Is that how he thinks of me? Then his fingers stroked up the length of my wet lips and I moaned.

His accent carved his words into heavy blocks of ice that slid straight down to my groin. “But no one knows she’s soaking wet for a gangster.” He pressed inward through the gauzy, slick material and I felt myself flower open. I moaned again, louder, feeling my cheeks go hot in the darkness.

His teeth nipped at the side of my neck and my legs went shaky: I would have melted right down to the floor if he hadn’t been holding me. “She wants the bad guy to fuck her. Doesn’t she?” I swallowed and nodded helplessly.

But that wasn’t enough. His fingers circled my clit through the sopping fabric, and I groaned. “ Doesn’t she? ” he demanded.

“ Yes!”

He pushed my jeans down with both hands and suddenly I was helping him, twisted my hips to shimmy them down, using one sneaker to pry the other off and then scrape at the cuffs of my jeans to help them along. There were flashes of pain in my joints as I flexed and wriggled but they were distant, muffled explosions, drowned out by the roar in my ears. The bundle of jeans, socks and sneakers collected around my ankles. I pulled one foot free, then the other, and then I was bare-legged and barefoot. I felt his thumbs hook into the waistband of my panties and then they were being stripped down, too. I swallowed as the cool air of the store kissed my soaking, sensitive pussy. This is real. This is actually happening. It wasn’t a fantasy, this time. He was actually about to fuck me.

My panties fell around my feet, and I stepped out of them, the blood thundering through my veins.

He spun me around to face him, then grabbed my waist. I yelped as I was lifted into the air and carried over to the counter. My eyes came open as he set me down sitting on the edge. The store was dark, the only light coming from the passing headlights of cars on the street. I was almost naked, my bra up around my neck and my blouse open, my pale body gleamed in the darkness.

He stepped closer, looming out of the shadows. I drank him in: that gorgeous face, his gray eyes burning with need. The huge, heavy slabs of his pecs, his chest filling my vision as he came closer still, towering over me. I could see the dark shapes of his tattoos better now through his shirt, as if the dark revealed what he really was.

I understood his aura, now. I’d realized as soon as I saw him destroy those two men. It wasn’t just power. There were other men who had more money and controlled more territory. Some men controlled whole countries. But Radimir didn’t just have the power to have you killed. He had the strength to end you himself and that gave him an unshakeable authority like I’d never known. It was what made him a monster. It was what made me feel so protected by him.

Movement drew my eyes down: he was unbuckling his belt. My gaze locked there, hypnotized, as his pants opened and his cock sprang out. It strained upward, naked and primal against his respectable business suit, and I swallowed. God, he was big . Thick and long, the shaft rock hard, the satiny head gleaming with a jewel of pre-cum. Nerves fluttered in my stomach.

He put his hands on my ass and tugged me to the very edge of the counter. I opened my knees, and he stepped forward between them. I heard my breathing notch higher, my eyes flicking between his face and his cock.

He pulled a condom packet from his pocket, tore it open and rolled the condom on. Then he put one hand on the small of my back to hold me in place and brought his cock to my sopping pussy. I swallowed as the arrow-shaped head parted my lips. “Go—Go slow,” I begged.

His cock twitched, as if the sound of me begging excited him, and I caught my breath as he slipped up and down between my slickened lips. His eyes blazed but he gave me one of those curt little nods. Then he angled his cock and?—

I felt my mouth open into a wide, red ‘O’ as he pushed into me. Just an inch, just enough for the head of him to open me. He shifted back, pushed forward again, gliding between my soaking lips, and the pleasure trembled outward, feathery-light and delicate. He stopped, letting me get used to his size, and the pleasure became an ache: I could feel him, hard and hot and primed, could feel where he’d be, and I began to shift and rock, wanting him.

He growled low in his throat, feeling my neediness, and moved both hands to my ass. Then, as he held me in place, he slowly pushed into me, inch by thick inch. The pleasure tightened, becoming heavier, darker, and I grabbed his biceps as he stretched me. More. My toes danced as he slid deeper, the pleasure turning silver edged as he filled me. More. My legs came up, hooking around him, my back arching. More.

I felt the root of him press up against my lips. He was completely buried inside me and I could feel every twitch, every pulse of him. My hands slid up his arms and stroked his chest, desperate to pass on some of the sensation. My hands worked at his tie but it took me three attempts to loosen the silk. Every tiny shift of my body moved me on his cock, sending tight waves of pleasure outward through my body like ripples on a pond. I panted: thinking became slow and difficult, and I had to focus on each shirt button as I undid them. Then I was smoothing my hands across his chest, pushing his shirt aside. My fingers traced blue-black tattoos: stars and words in Cyrillic and a rose wrapped in barbed wire. There was a whole story there, written in symbols I didn’t understand about a world I didn’t know. It was starkly, coldly terrifying. They kill people. But his muscles were deliciously warm and ruggedly hard. I ran my fingers over his nipples, pink and big as silver dollars...

He changed his grip to better pin me in place, his thumbs in the creases of my hips and his fingers spread across my ass. Then he slowly drew his cock from me and I gasped at the long, silken pull. He moved back until the head almost slipped from me and then drove back in deep and I bit my lip at how good it felt. He pulled back again and now he wasn’t going slow anymore…but by now I wanted— needed it hard.

He began to pump at me, harder and harder, and I hooked my chin over his shoulder, my mouth opening wide again as the sensations overwhelmed me. Every time he pulled back, silvery pleasure earthquaked out from every millimeter he’d touched. Every time he thrust deep, that pleasure heated, glowing brighter and brighter.

My legs tightened around him, shamelessly pulling him inward. His hips pounded between mine, making my breasts sway and bounce, my nipples skimming his chest and making me gasp. I grabbed for his shoulders, his muscles like rock under my fingers, and just hung on as he fucked me, the pleasure getting tighter and hotter, my orgasm close. I was going to come right there on the counter. How was I going to stand there serving customers, after this?

He leaned in and kissed me, urgent and hard, our teeth clacking together before our tongues met and danced. My ankles locked around the small of his back. His thrusts sped up, his cock plunging into me again and again, the root of him stroking against my clit on each stroke. I dug my fingers into his shoulders as the tight ball of heat inside me trembled, shook...and exploded. I cried out against his lips as the orgasm ripped through me, wave after wave of pleasure that shook me like a doll. I felt myself spasming around him and he groaned and pushed deep one last time. Then he was erupting inside me in long, hot spurts and we kissed as we rode the wave on and on into oblivion.