Page 89 of The Beast of Moscow

“Oh, my God ... Vas, yes.”

“Nobody,” he told her, tracing her lips with his thumb again until she smiled, as shaky as it was, for him, “said you weren’t going to get yours, too, kitten.”

“That’s my G-spot,” she breathed when he found the fleshy spot on inside her cunt. “Y-you’re gonna make me sq—”

“I know. This man’s bedroom is going to smell like you for months.” He added the third finger, she shuddered with a broken cry that was music to his ears, and he massaged her inner wall harder as her hips started to shake. “Let’s see just how wet you can get.”

*

It had taken Vas entirely too long to find where Vera left his phone and jacket downstairs. He was less interested in the jacket than the phone, but since one was tucked inside the pocket of the other, he ended up back in the bedroom with both in his hands. Tossing the rumpled suit jacket over the corner of a dresser, he finally turned his attention back to the phone as he turned it on.

Instantly, he was drawn to the time on the screen. Crawling closer to half past three in the morning than he would like to admit, Vaslav was running out of time. The text he found waiting from Igor in his messages confirmed what he already knew.

Written in Russian, with few details, the message was simple, clear to the man it was meant for, and left him blowing out a hard exhale.

Confirmation sent through to the Italian. He’ll be there at 5.

Vas looked at the time again.

He considered calling Igor; calling off the early-morning meeting was likely the right thing to do after the evening he’d had, and the fact his migraine still hadn’t waned enough to give him any real relief.

The only thing that had done that was Vera.

And even she was busy, now.

His gaze skipped to the chair in the far corner of the bedroom, off to the left side of the bed. He could still picture her there—for a mind that was muddy and chaotic a lot of the time, his brain had done a damn good job of imprinting that woman into his memories. She was almost viscerally there, like he could still hear the way she’d almost squealed with her pleasure after he’d had her dripping a puddle down over his hands and onto the chair.

Oh, she’d soaked it.

The room still smelled like sex.

Sex they hadn’t even had.

His cock had still been painfully hard then, too. Throbbing again and aching with that woman trembling in his lap. He almost reconsidered his rule about fucking raw, but even Vera couldn’t break his very carefully crafted control in that regard.

Instead, he’d spun her around on his lap, pinned her back to his chest with an arm wrapped tight around her breasts, and rubbed another orgasm out of her while he grinded his cock into her tight ass like a teenaged boy getting his first dry hump from a girl.

Not that he was complaining.

He had come again like that. All up her back in hot spurts that painted her soft, porcelain skin with the dirtiness of his seed.

The only thing that worked to get his erection down was that second orgasm, and then a long walk through the dark floors of the apartment while he searched for his missing things. Not that it had been entirely effective—just the smell of Vera in that room was enough to get his dick twitching in the confines of the slacks that he’d pulled on before leaving the bedroom.

Good Christ.

She could kill him.

It’d be a hell of a way to die, though.

“How’s the migraine?”

His distraction was going to be his downfall. The very fact he hadn’t heard the shower turn off in the attached bathroom or heard Vera come to stand in the doorway connecting the two rooms told him that.

However, he barely gave it any thought because the sight of Vera naked with a towel in her hands and semi-dried hair falling in waves around her face was enough to remind him why he didn’t care if he was distracted. He wasn’t the type of man to get lost in a beautiful woman, but there was something different about this one.

Maybe it was that she knew she was beautiful. Or how her body looked in nothing but skin, with marks on her hips where he’d held a little too tightly as he came that last time.

Who knew what the reason was?