Page 13 of Flames

Higher and higher we go towards the top. A lump begins to form in my throat and I make a small noise to clear it.

“Boodz-zdaróva,” he says. His accent is thick and definitely Eastern European. I am most definitely fucked.

“Thank you,” I mumble politely as I shuffle on my feet.

Twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two.

He moves and I flinch before realizing that he is simply raising his hand to look at his watch. The time piece is large and looks expensive. This man must not be an enforcer, so at least I’m not in for immediate torture. Through the corner of my eye, I try to size him up. Lean, tall, put together. He looks more businessman than mafia. If I were to guess, he works for the business side of The Brotherhood.

So why was he sent to follow me?

The elevator makes a sudden jerk and I swiftly grab the handle to steady myself. I swear I see the man smirk out of the corner of my eye.

Asshat.

There is a small ding and the doors slide open. The man holds his hand out, motioning for me to exit first. I swallow down the lump forming in my throat and push off of the wall. I throw my shoulders back and hold my chin high. Stepping through the doors and onto the wood floor outside, I expect to hear footsteps behind me. Honestly, I’m half expecting to be grabbed the moment I step out. But, nothing happens. I spin to see the doors sliding closed, the suited man standing behind them, his gray eyes watching me and a small smirk pulling at his lips. And then, the doors close and I’m alone.

Well, that was weird as fuck.

I spin back around, taking a deep breath and examining my surroundings. This floor seems relatively empty, just a long hallway of closed doors and pale, blank walls. The sensation of being watched creeps up my spine and I swiftly gaze around. A red blinking light tells me that there’s a camera monitoring the floor. If they didn’t already know a random woman was wandering their halls, they do now.

I’ll have to move quickly—up to the roof, find my target, and get out of here. In and out.

Turning back the other direction, I locate a glowing red exit sign above a nondescript door. Perfect. Pushing open the door, I find myself in a cold concrete stairwell with a single sign reading ‘Roof Access.’ A small smile pulls at the corner of my mouth. This is going better than expected. I take the steps as swiftly as possible in my heels, my breath puffing as I climb towards the metal door at the top. Pushing the bar open, I am hit by the warm air streaming inside. It’s sweltering outside.

“Fuck this heat,” I mumble as I move towards the edge of the wide open expanse of the rooftop. “At least there’s a breeze.”

The building across from this one is a similar build—a stone facade skyscraper with rows of windows. Inside are people going about their day, minding their business, completely unaware that, through the lens of the scope I just pulled from my purse, I am watching them. I quickly scan each row of windows, searching for one in particular. Mikhael Zmeev is a bear of a man—tall, burly, with dark hair, thick brows, and an imposing presence. He looms over the others in the room as he speaks with wild gesticulations of his hands. I looked up the term Phoenix used to describe him—Volk. It means ‘The Wolf.’ A fitting name for the predatory man who looks as though he might rip out someone’s throat at any moment. I get the vibe that he will want someone submissive, someone who is willing to let him be the brute he wants to be. He will want some pliancy. I can be pliant… enough.

“And what exactly are you learning, moya pŭtěnĭcĭ?” a smooth and sultry voice whispers across the shell of my ear. Immediately, my body reacts to Phoenix.

He could give me a stiff lady boner just with his voice alone.

“That Mikhael Zmeev seems to be a real pussycat,” I respond without turning. I’m certain he snuck up on me to throw me off my game. This is, after all, a competition. But I have no intention of letting him see just how thoroughly he has gotten under my skin. “Just a kind and gentle man.”

He scoffs behind me, his hand landing on my hip as he pulls me against him. He smells like smoke and sulfur. I should hate it, and yet, I can’t seem to help leaning in for more. His body is firm and warm. It’s hot as hell itself under the blazing sun, and yet Phoenix’s warmth feels different. It’s not heat against my skin, it’s warmth down to my very marrow. He makes my body feel whole, not like some weakened anemic little girl, for the first time in forever. I adjust myself slightly in his hold, rubbing my ass against him. I can feel his cock twitch on contact, and a smirk pulls at my lips.

“You’re a dangerous temptation, Little Spark,” he whispers in my ear as he drags me tightly back against him. His cock is thick and hard against my backside. Despite the very satisfying self-release I had last night, my pussy clenches and throbs with need.

“How did you know I was here?” I ask as his hand grips my hip, moving my body so I lightly grind up and down against the hardening length of him.

A small chuckle leaves his lips as he leans in over my shoulder. The scruff of his dark stubble tickles the delicate skin behind my ear. A moan nearly slips from my lips but I stop it at the last moment. “You think I’m not keeping an eye on my competition?” His teeth graze the lobe of my ear, biting lightly at the skin. “I play to win, Princess.”

“How about a side bet?” I ask, unable to contain my body’s reaction to the maddening man behind me. My nipples tighten beneath the padding of my bra, aching for his touch. Something about this man is so cocky, so confident, so infuriating… and entirely addictive.

“For you, moya pŭtěnĭcĭ, I could be convinced to do just about anything,” he snarks.

I am possibly in over my head with this man.

EIGHT

PHOENIX

Look, was writing ‘MINE’ on her window in my cum a bit possessive? Possibly. But, I’m a fucking monster, what do you expect? I have spent centuries forging my path through this world and claiming my power. So, yes. Sometimes I can get a little possessive. This was… maybe a smidge more… intense than I normally am but there’s just something about this woman that is maddening.

The way her plump, peachy ass looks in this fucking pencil skirt she has on is enough to make even a normal man fall on bended knee and worship her. As a beast, I clearly cannot be held responsible for what I’m about to do.

“What’s the bet?” I ask her as I drag her curvy body back against me further. She’s the opposite of me in every way—soft where I’m hard, hard where I’m soft. She’s clearly a perfect fit for me, which must be the reason my human cock is aching for her.