Lying and Kissing(95)

The heat throbbed down to my groin. Sex had been the last thing I’d been expecting. I wouldn’t have thought getting turned on was possible, when you were running for your life. I hadn’t realized that danger is an aphrodisiac, that having adrenaline pumping through your system for hours leaves you itching to do something with all that nervous energy. Suddenly, I was like a cat in heat. “Well, you’re too good looking to be a client,” I said.

“I know,” he deadpanned. He sat up fully, so we were just inches apart, and traced my cheekbone with one finger. “What would you call yourself, if you were a Russian hooker?”#p#分页标题#e#

“Natalia,” I said, shaking out my long blonde hair.

He blinked. “I had a girlfriend called Natalia, once.”

“I know. I remember the phone sex.”

He stared at me. “You listened to—”

“Many times.”

He just looked at me for a moment, anger flaring in his eyes and then turning slowly to lust. “So, Natalia. How much would it cost to sleep with you?”

“A lot,” I said. “Millions of dollars.”

“I have millions of dollars,” he said, leaning even closer. His lips were almost brushing mine. “So I could hire you and fuck you.”

I was quaking now, the heat rolling through me. This was all getting very kinky, very fast. It was like sex always was with him: dark and dangerous and edgy...and wonderful. It felt different now that we were together. The sex we’d had at Vasiliy’s house had been the tipping point, when we’d actually dared to talk about our sex games. I felt free, free to share my fantasies—if I dared. The potential was huge but the timing was awful—sex should have been the last thing on our minds.

But maybe, I realized, it was exactly what we both needed.

“Yes,” I said huskily. “You could. And I’d have to do anything you said.”

“Oh, would you?”

“Yes. Anything.” My head was spinning from the raw lust in his voice. God, how does he always do this to me?

He moved back on the bed, sitting up against the scratched wooden headboard. And then he glanced down, just once, to the bulge in his pants. “Susi hui,” he instructed me. Suck me.

My cheeks flared. He was being crude. Deliberately crude. And for some reason, that only made me hotter. I glanced around the room, seeing the torn wallpaper, the glowing neon sign outside the window. I really could be some Moscow hooker, kneeling over her client, preparing to suck him to pay my rent.

I took a deep, shuddering breath and unfastened his belt, pulling down his pants and then his shorts. His cock sprang out, thick and already erect, and I gazed down at those strong, muscled thighs. I slid my hands over them, pushing his pants lower. Then I slowly took him into my mouth.

It wasn’t the first time I’d done it. But doing it for him was completely different. With my boyfriends in the past, it had just been a part of sex—mechanical, almost. This felt...dirty. But in a good way. Like I was demonstrating how filthy I could be by doing it, and he loved me for it.

I rolled him around in my mouth, using my tongue, and he groaned and called me a good little shalava. I added my hand, his shaft hot and slick with my spit, and he began to stroke my long, blonde hair. Every time I looked up at him with my big, painted eyes, I could feel him grow harder in my mouth. We stared at each other as I bobbed my head, the tension building and building. God, I felt so dirty...and yet it felt utterly safe. Because, however much he played at being the callous, unfeeling customer, I’d seen the real him.

He suddenly pulled my panting mouth off him and then lifted me onto the floor so that I was standing, facing the bed. He put a hand on my back and pushed me down so that I bent at the waist, my hands braced on the bed and my ass high in the air.

I caught a glimpse of us in the mirror and scarcely recognized myself. Some blonde hooker, bending over for her client. I recognized him, though. Luka Malakov, big-time criminal, wanted arms dealer. As I watched, he stripped off his sweater and shirt, kicking off his pants so that he was naked. His tattoos gleamed in the dim light and, as he moved in behind me, the sight of his muscled body made me catch my breath. A mafioso, using one of his girls. Using me. It was exactly how I’d imagined him back before I’d really known him, before I’d seen past his defenses. Pure darkness. I’d seen the good in him, now, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t be—my groin tightened—evil.#p#分页标题#e#

He kicked my legs apart and I cried out in shock as I dropped lower. Then he was jerking my dress up over my thighs, baring my ass. I felt my panties shoved aside. God, I was already wet for him. There was the rubber sound of a condom and then—