25. Killian
25
KILLIAN
I t’s past midnight. And still, I sit in my leather reading chair, waiting in my dark bedroom as I watch both entrances to see which one Natasha will try to come through tonight.
I suppress the sneaking suspicion that she might not come at all.
She has to after I barged into her father’s house like I did. If he wasn’t going to entertain the idea of a marriage proposal, he’s sure to have sent his best weapon to try killing me once again.
I haven’t been able to stop thinking about Natasha since I left the Sokolovs’ towering penthouse earlier tonight.
That formfitting red dress, the fullness of her ruby lips, both emphasizing the beautiful red highlights in her thick burgundy hair. She pulled out all the stops for dinner, looking every bit the seductress in her strappy, red-soled heels and signature braid that keeps her hair out of her striking silver-gray eyes.
It was jarring tonight to see her act like the soft-spoken young high-society woman she pretends to be in public. I wonder how I ever, for even a second, believed her disguise in the first place.
Now, when I look at her, it’s as if the willful and lethal woman who’s completely captured my attention is apparent in every line of her body, every movement she makes, every word she speaks—or doesn’t speak.
My heart twists at the memory of watching her keep that shy mask in place. Especially in my presence. It was like having dinner with a stranger, though, at this point, Natasha and I are quite intimately acquainted.
And it felt dangerously satisfying to strip her of that mask—even if it took getting her alone before I succeeded in doing so.
My cock aches with the memory of having her pinned against the dining room wall as she fought like the fierce tigress I kept waiting for a glimpse of. Is it strange that I find her proclivity toward knives to be such a turn on? I can’t say, and I’m not sure I care. Everything about her calls to me like a siren song, urging me to bow before her perfection.
Why she wants to keep resisting me when we both see what’s happening between us, I don’t know. But I’ve thoroughly enjoyed the chase, so I don’t mind playing her game.
Tonight, though? I’m ready to skip right to the good stuff.
Reaching up her skirt to feel the heat between her thighs—teasing the soft lace of her panties, it was just enough of a taste to drive any man crazy. And though I turned my bedroom lights off hours ago, it seems that Natasha is determined to make me wait for my reward—to stew in my desire until my balls are bruised with the need to be inside her.
The subtlest of movements on the balcony catches my eye, and my heart somersaults as I spot Natasha’s catlike landing before she settles into a crouch. Did she just actually come down from the roof?
That woman. I can’t say I’ve ever met someone so intoxicatingly fascinating. I could watch her for hours. I don’t know how she makes even the most gravity-defying feats look not just effortless but insanely sexy.
My muscles tense, urging me to get off my butt and meet her halfway. But I’m curious to see if she’ll count our little scuffle at dinner as an assassination attempt or if she’ll come at me again.
I doubt her father will have let it fly that I managed to walk out their front door tonight. From the look on his face, he was seconds from committing murder himself. Though his stunned expression as I exited the dining room alive was priceless.
The balcony door slides open, and Natasha slips silently inside. She’s dressed in her typical assassin’s outfit—black bodysuit, dark mask that covers everything but her eyes and the bridge of her nose. It shows off every sharp angle and sensual curve of her body.
And suddenly, I can’t hold out to see if she intended to draw the knife attached to her thigh or not. Rising from my chair, I stride confidently across the room, closing the distance between us in three long steps.
Natasha gasps as I catch her off guard, pulling her firmly into my arms. She wasn’t anticipating my approach, and likely, her eyes are still adjusting to the dark after she had to dodge my security spotlights outside.
“Can we skip the wrestling match for tonight since we already got the foreplay over with at dinner?” I tease, crushing her against my chest. I tug her mask up over her head before she has time to say anything. “All I’ve been thinking about since then was finishing what we started.”
Leaning in, I capture her lips, desperate to taste her now that she’s in my arms. And to my surprise, Natasha doesn’t even try to argue.
Instead, her palms slide up my chest so she can wrap her arms around my neck. And when she kisses me, she feels deliciously eager to have me inside her. I run my hands down the curves of her waist, palming her full, firm ass. She jumps lightly up to wrap her legs around my hips.
Christ , this woman is sexy.
Grasping her muscular thighs, I hold her close as I carry her to the bed. And she clings to me as I crawl onto the mattress, spreading her lithe body across the soft sheets.
Natasha’s breathing is elevated and erratic, her intense gaze silver in the moonlight as she looks up at me with such overwhelming need, I think I might just explode. Keeping her thighs hooked over mine, I rock back onto my knees so I can unzip her skintight bodysuit.
Her hand goes to the knife holster around her thigh, and some instinct buried beneath my overwhelming lust reminds me that she could be drawing it to attack me. But then she flicks the buckle open and tosses the sheathed blade haphazardly over her head. It hits the pillows with a soft thud before vanishing from view. A wicked grin stretches across my lips.
“I think that might be the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen you do. And believe me, I’ve seen you do some spectacularly sexy moves.”
Natasha laughs, soft and low, and I love the sensual, melodic sound. She doesn’t give me those often. So when she does, it feels like a shot of heroin rushing through my veins. Dipping low, I find her silky skin between the open zipper teeth of her bodysuit and kiss my way back up her firm core to the soft valley between her tits.
She moans softly, arching up into me as I slip a hand beneath the fabric to palm one perfect breast. And when I roll the taut nub of her nipple between my finger and thumb, she gasps. My cock throbs against the elastic of my boxers—the only clothing I bothered to wear while I waited for her arrival.
Perhaps not the outfit I would particularly like to die in. But when it comes to fucking Natasha, it’s an incredibly convenient place to start.
Hooking my fingers around the collar of her bodysuit, I slowly strip her of the elastic fabric, revealing one creamy inch of her flesh at a time. She works with me, squirming across the sheets and arching up off the bed to allow me to remove it.
And when I find she’s wearing nothing but the delicate lace thong I felt earlier in the evening, I let out a deep, agonized groan.
“You like them?” she teases, rolling her hips to give me the perfect view of her bare ass and the thin red floss that disappears between her cheeks.
“I’ve been dying to see what they look like since I touched them,” I confess. And I run my fingers over the soft red lace to see if they feel as flimsy as before. They do, and because I must be some kind of animal, I can’t help myself. I hook my fingers around the skimpy triangle of fabric—and rip them clean off her body.
Natasha gasps, her hips bucking upward at the shock of my aggression. But when I hold the fabric to my nose, breathing in her intoxicating scent of arousal, her eyes spark with desire.
“God, you smell like heaven,” I breathe. Then I lean over to slide open the drawer beside my bed.
“What are you doing?” she asks, arching her neck and showing off her perky tits as she cranes to watch me.
“I’m keeping these,” I tell her. “As a memento.” And I drop the shredded panties into my drawer.
Then I turn my attention back to the perfectly naked woman I just stole them off of. “Tell me, love, have you been getting wet just thinking about coming to me tonight?” I ask.
To my astonishment, her cheeks pool with color as she breathes, “Yes.”
It’s the first inch she’s given me, and it makes my balls tighten to hear my sexy little minx admitting I turn her on.
Dropping onto one forearm, I reach between us with the other. “How wet are you?” I rasp, and when I stroke two fingers between her silken folds, my cock twitches.
She’s positively dripping .
Taking my slick fingers from her pussy, I bring them to her mouth. Natasha holds my gaze captive as she willingly accepts them, parting her lips to suck my fingertips clean.
“ Christ , love,” I groan.
And because I can’t stand to wait another second, I remove my fingers from her lips, firmly grip the base of my cock, align my weeping tip with her entrance, and thrust deep inside of her. Natasha groans, her thighs spreading as I fold her in half with the penetrating thrust.
Crushing my lips against hers, I claim her sensual sounds, swallowing them greedily. Her walls tighten around my rock-hard length, and I can’t take my time tonight.
I need all of her. I need her now.
She’s driving me crazy with desire, and it feels so good to be buried to the hilt, claiming her body for my own. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to stop.
Natasha moans and pants, her breaths coming hard and fast as she rocks with me, taking every punishing inch of my hard length. Thrusting inside her, I fill her again and again, grinding against her clit with every deep penetration.
This didn’t start with our usual playful banter.
It’s not the powerplay we typically entertain before getting down to business.
This is intense and raw and passionate, and it’s not just me this time.
I can feel it in the way Natasha’s fingers press into the muscles of my back. She’s pulling me closer, with a desperation that turns my blood molten.
The fiery resistance and cheeky defiance has been replaced by a deeper emotion.
And it makes me wonder where Natasha truly stands—if she might not be falling in love with me as well.
Because I know without a shadow of doubt that I’m crazy about her.