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He cuts the thin piece of fabric, and my pussy clenches, drenching my panties.
Without removing my eyes from his, I discard the ruined piece of lace, letting it fall away to join my shirt, and lean back. Sergei drops the knife into the sink, then slips his fingers into thewaistband of my jeans, and bends his head until his face is right in front of mine.
“There will be no going back after this, baby,” he says.
Yes, I guess there won’t be. Supporting myself with my palms on the counter, I lift my ass as he slides my pants down my legs. I expected him to remove my panties next, but instead, he reaches for the knife again and places it between my legs, pressing the flat side of the blade over my panties. I gasp. The side of his mouth curves upward, and I moan as I feel liquid pool between my legs. Other than pressing the blade onto my core, he’s barely touched me, but I’m already on the brink of an orgasm.
He moves the knife up and to the side until it reaches my hip, hooks the tip under the string, and cuts it.
“Do you enjoy ruining my underwear?”
“Immensely.” He smirks, then repeats the action on the other side. The last piece of the fabric covering me falls off, leaving me completely bare, on display under the bright fluorescent light for him. If it was any other man, I would be nervous. Not with Sergei. He’s already seen me at my worst, so I don’t feel the need to hide from him.
Keeping his eyes glued to mine, he starts unstrapping the holsters from around his thighs, letting the weapons clang to the floor one after the other. A gun. Several extra magazines. Another knife. Finally, he removes his pants and boxers, and stands before me in all his naked glory. As I watch all that hard tight muscle, raw and impeccably defined, a realization dawns. His body is beautiful, but it’s not just for show. Just like the guns and knives he discarded, Sergei’s body is a weapon, honed to perfection and capable of ending a person’s life with minimum of effort—just like I witnessed tonight.
He moves closer and grabs at the back of my neck with his left hand, sliding his right down my spine, and pulls me forward until the tip of his hard cock presses at my core. I should beconcerned with the fact he’s just ended several lives with the same hands holding me now. There are splatters of dried blood all over his arms and face. But I’m not. Instead, I wrap my legs around his waist and revel in the feel of his cock sliding into me. It’s too big and I gasp as my walls strain, stretching to accommodate his size. I’m still a little sore from earlier, but I don’t care. Neither of us moves for a few moments, as we stare into each other’s eyes.
This feels different somehow. Back in the car, it was just two people succumbing to sexual attraction and acting on it. But this... this is something else.
Until tonight, I didn’t quite grasp who Sergei Belov actually is. I listened as he killed six armed men, quickly and efficiently, with no hesitation. Now, I know. I’m falling in love with a cold-blooded killer.
Hypnotized. My cock feels like it’s going to explode, but I don’t move. Angelina’s unblinking eyes, staring directly into mine, have me utterly hypnotized. There’s no fear in them. No reluctance. People rarely look me in the eyes. If they do, most quickly turn their heads away, as if afraid of what they may see when they look too closely. Her hand rests on my shoulder, nails piercing my skin as she squeezes it while simultaneously tightening her legs around my waist and pulling me even closer.
I let my fingers trail along her back and grasp a handful of her hair, tilting her head up. She shudders and bites her bottom lip, closing her eyes.
I pull out of her, almost completely, and lightly tug her hair. “Eyes on me, baby.”
I need her to look at me. The moment her eyes open, I thrust inside her with all my might. Angelina moans, clutching at my shoulders, as I bury myself in her to the hilt.
“Faster,” she mewls.
“No.” I smile and slide out, only to push inside again, slower this time. The sound of her panting—music to my ears. The expression on her face is priceless, something between elation and frustration. I let go of her hair and cup her chin, still moving in and out as slowly as I can, and devour Angelina’s lips. She tastes like honey and sin, and my control vanishes. I grab her ass with my left hand and slam into her, holding our mouths together as our breaths mix. Angelina’s hands wrap around my upper arms, squeezing as if her life depends on it, and I pound into her again and again. She moans, closing her eyes. No.
“Eyes, Angelina,” I bark and latch onto her chin again. “I need you to look at me.”
Her hands move up until they rest on either side of my face, and she looks at me the way she always does—like she seesme, not someone they send in when stuff needs to be destroyed or people eliminated. Not the unhinged man everyone fears will kill them if they look at him the wrong way. Just... me.
“I’m keeping you, lisichka,” I say against her lips and slam in her again. “You’re mine.”
Angelina moans as tremors rock her body, and I keep pounding into her until I find my own release. Not even for a second does she take her eyes off mine.
“I need a shower,” Sergei says against my mouth, then bites my lip. “I have blood all over me.”
I sigh, still coming down from the high. “Would you mind company?”
“Nope.”
His palms land on my arms and slide down, then move to my waist. He lowers me off the counter and entwines his fingers with mine. His eyes are hooded with lingering arousal as his grip on my hand remains tight. He draws me into the shower and turns the handle. The stream cascades over him, rivulets trailing down his face and body, washing away the blood. The water at his feet is pink, and I am mesmerized as it swirls before disappearing down the drain. When I look up, Sergei’s eyes regard me. Waiting. I take a step forward and join him under the spray, my feet next to his in a mix of blood and water.
He raises an eyebrow. “You could have waited for the blood to wash away.”
“I could have,” I say looking into his eyes.
“It doesn’t bother you?”
“Bathing in the blood of your enemies?” I look down at the water around my feet. There’s still a pale pink tint to it. “No, not particularly.”
He reaches with his hand and moves a few strands of hair that are plastered to my cheeks. “You are a strange breed.”
