Page 20 of From Russia With Blood

“Anything unusual?”

She smirks. “You mean besides the fact that I want to fuck your brains out, and I don’t even know you?”

My heart stops for a second. I didn’t think she was faking her reaction with me, but it was nice to get confirmation. “I wish that I could, but it’s already been a busy day, and I’m sure you’ll want me at my best tomorrow.” Her eyes brighten at the idea of spending more time with me, and I let loose a flurry of curse words in my brain. The goal was to cause distance between us, not give her hope for a future that could never be.

I stand her up, looking for any signs of disorientation, but she’s strong and steady. Any wobbling on her part could easily be attributed to the scene we just had. Her bottle is empty, so there’s no chance of me taking a sip and seeing for myself if it’s laced, but that is also a stupid idea. I don’t need both of us out of commission.

Before she can ask me any questions, I grab the bottle and put it in my pocket. “Let’s go to your room and get that butt plug out of you.” The flush that reddens her cheeks makes my cock twitch, and I groan under my breath. I’m a one-and-done kinda guy; I should have been satisfied with coming down her throat.

I know it’s a lie the moment it flits across my brain. Deep down, I know I won’t be satisfied until I’ve coated her inside and out with my cum. For the first time in my life, I wished I was one of those men that produced jizz by the gallon full. Maybe then I’d be able to mark her in a way that not even Luka would dare touch her.

Just the thought of tying her to the bed and jacking off over her again and again until only her eyes remain uncrusted has my shaft pulsing with need. I’ve never been territorial before, and the feeling isn’t comfortable as the ramifications churn in my brain, but my balls seem to have a mind of their own.

Even now, I’m already at half-mast, and I need to adjust myself before it becomes uncomfortable. Knowing I’m going to be coming by my hand soon after I settle her in sends a stab of anger through me - anger at Luka for forcing me to leave her alone and rage at my own body for needing Katrina like I need air. None of this would be happening if I forced myself to settle down with another submissive after Gloria was officially pronounced dead.

They didn’t even give me a chance to grieve before sweeping her under the rug like she didn’t matter. Like we didn’t matter. They looked at all the blood and decided on a closed-casket funeral, not even considering my wishes. Fuck therapy. If they actually kept looking for her until they found a body, I might not be here putting my life and badge on the line.

I’m in a hell of my own making, and I know it. It doesn’t make it any easier, but being the one to blame hurts in a way that any other self-punishment wouldn’t be able to touch. It’s a self-loathing I deserve, and I fully intend to wallow in it when I’m alone in my room again. Breathing deep, I draw Katrina’s scent into my lungs. I’ll at least have these memories. Unless he kills me, not even Luka can destroy that.

The walk to the elevators is tense and awkward. Both of us are deep in our thoughts, and I don’t like it, but I don’t want to strike up a mundane conversation either. On impulse, I sweep Katrina up into my arms and stride over to the doors. She’s so small in my grasp. So helpless. Once again, Gloria’s crime scene pops into my head, and the strength of the agony it causes almost drives me to my knees.

She snuggles in deep, rubbing her face in my shirt like a cat in heat. Chuckling, I bring her back to her feet so I can unbutton my shirt and give her something else to rub against. I need that skin-to-skin contact with her, just for a bit longer. Her lips twist up into a grin as she runs her fingers along my sternum.

“Funny. I thought you’d be hairier.”

“It’s called manscaping, minx.”

“What’s the matter? Ran out of batteries before you got to your balls?”

Grinning, I reach out and grab her ass, delighting in the hiss of pain as I pinch the tender skin. “No. I just like keeping a little hair down there. I feel like it makes me look manlier.” I sober for a second and finish unbuttoning the shirt, careful not to jostle the empty bottle. “Honestly, try as I might, I’ve never been able to grow chest hair. Anything you see starts from the navel down. I’ll get a few sprouts here and there, but nothing a quick pluck won’t take care of.”

Again, she leans on me, rubbing her nose over my skin. I hadn’t really considered pet play before, but the feelings she stirs in me while pawing at my skin have me rethinking my options. She’d make such a delightful kitty. But that would take more time and trust than what we have.

I sweep her up again into my arms and ignore the pain in my heart as her sigh flutters against my skin. “What deck?” I remember the stewardess talking about it, but for some reason, it slipped my mind. Not much seems to stay in there when Katrina is around. Her nose scrunches up as she tries to remember, and my breathing stutters. Did they give her something after all?

“It’s Coral. Deck Two, but I think I have to go aft? Or is it stern? Sternboard? Portly? Fuck. I really hate cruises.” My heart drops back out of my throat. Not drugged, just very unsure. Then again, if I hadn’t had many missions involving submarines and cruisers, I’d probably be just as clueless. “It’s in the back,” she continues, motioning in the opposite direction.

Stifling a chuckle, I shift her up higher so I can press the button for the elevator. “That would be stern, my dear.” I turn to face the direction she should have been pointing in. “And it’s actually that way.”

“Show off,” she grumbles under her breath, burrowing her face into my chest. Normally I would have called a submissive out for being disrespectful, but she's so damned cute that I can't bring myself to chide her. That and her lack of direction is just adorable.

“If you want, I can dress up like a professor and give you an in-depth lesson.” The force in which she shakes her head loosens the laugh from my chest. “Suit yourself. I guess you’ll just be wandering around.”

Her lips turn down into a frown before she digs into her shirt and pulls out a crumpled piece of paper. “I has a map. I’ll never get lost.”

Chuckling again, I turn the paper so it’s facing the right way, biting back a smart retort. I’ll give her this one. Though, if I’m being honest with myself, this insane lack of direction fills me with a bit of worry. If it’s so easy for her to get lost, Luka has a much better chance at getting her alone.

A stab of fear makes me hold her closer as the elevator stops at her deck. Where was her friend? Would Luka do something with her in order to lure Katrina away? “Is your friend already in her room?”

Eyes wide, Katrina turns to me. “I don’t know. She went with some guy. I think he was a DM?”

I release my breath and lower her back to the floor. A Dungeon Master would take pretty good care of her. I don’t want Katrina to worry, but I also know she probably won’t rest until I check on her friend. A giggle cuts into my thoughts, and I turn to see the friend walking towards us with another man.

From the way he’s wrapped his arm around her waist, she seems inebriated, but that shouldn’t be possible. Not unless he gave her alcohol elsewhere. He meets my gaze and rolls his eyes. “I don’t think I’ve known subspace to include giggling.”

Once again, memories of Gloria slam back into me as I watch Lizzy giggle and attempt to climb the man helping her walk. Her hair is the same shade but just a bit curlier. After hard scenes, Gloria would also be attacked by the case of the giggles as she came down. I didn't really register it until now. With Lizzy being so new, it probably wouldn’t take as much to get her high or let her drop.

“Are you sure it’s not the alcohol?” I raise my eyebrow as I stare down the stranger. Lizzy isn’t mine to protect, but she’s Katrina’s friend, which makes her, in proxy, my responsibility.