Chapter 6 Andrej #2
When she turns her gaze back to me, her pupils are enlarged, gorging on the green and amber flecks of her hazel eyes.
“Now, I think that you wear the bad boy rep like a warning sign. Back off or else.” She pauses.
“Maybe it’s convenient. Like an alpha wolf scaring off any other males who get too close.
The blood-red cocktail simply added another layer to your armor, and I think you secretly enjoyed it. ”
My chest tightens. I’ve known Cartier for less than twenty-four hours, and somehow, she understands me more than most people I know outside of family.
I don’t know how I feel about this. Part of me is flattered that she sees past my cock and my tongue.
I’m not averse to being used for my body, especially when the user is the most drop-dead gorgeous woman I’ve ever met.
But… My entire life, everything that I was raised to do for my family, everything that we stand for is based upon my reputation.
I’m the one Leonid calls upon when threats need to be made clearer, when the time for talking is over and blood needs to be spilled, whenever a ‘kill or be killed’ situation arises.
Sure, Leonid isn’t flawless. But he had always had to control the killer instinct, learn to balance it on a knife edge to maintain the respect of the foot soldiers that we employ.
I, on the other hand, never needed to cultivate their respect.
I enjoy the fear behind their eyes when I’m on a mission to destroy an enemy with a death wish.
Some adrenaline junkies get their kicks from fast motorcycles and skydiving.
I get mine from that moment of pure, unadulterated fear in the enemy’s eyes when they know that they pushed me too far.
If I lose that reputation, where does it leave me?
If Cartier ever finds out that it runs deeper than she thinks that this is who I am, that killing is in my blood, where does it leave us?
“No one has ever compared me to a wolf before. I’ll take it.”
“Do you always deflect questions that you don’t want to answer?” Her voice is soft, sending pulses of desire right through me.
How can a voice have that effect on a person? Or is it hitting the spot because I already know what her body has to offer? Either way, I’ve buried the original question beneath the lust pumping through my veins.
“How do you know the mayor?”
Bam! I wasn’t expecting that one.
“He and his wife are close friends of my parents.” That’s the safe answer.
“Are the rumors true?”
“Depends on which rumors you’ve heard?”
Fuck! I’m not ready to lose her to a reputation cultivated by necessity.
I never thought ahead when I was doing what needed to be done to keep the Ivanov family on top.
It never mattered before. But this is going to sting like a gigantic fucking hybrid wasp if she wants out before I’ve even gotten to know her.
“Something about a severed hand in a box.”
“Would it bother you if I said that it was true?”
She’s still here. That’s what I tell myself when I peer into her eyes, praying that she’ll hold onto the alpha wolf image instead. She isn’t running away.
Yet.
She inhales deeply. “I don’t know. I heard something else at the shelter.”
“The gossip mill must’ve been working overtime.”
It’s what happens when you label a bunch of people ‘very important’ and stick them in a room with the press and free champagne.
“I heard that you saved a woman from being sexually assaulted.”
“You heard that, huh?” I mentally scan the faces I recall from the grand opening and draw a blank. I don’t remember seeing anyone who would’ve known about the incident.
“I also heard that you took the woman to ER, stuck around until you knew that she was okay, and that you’ve stayed in touch with her ever since.”
I shrug. Sip my champagne. “Which rumor do you believe?”
Cartier removes the glass from my hand and rests her chin on my shoulder. “You haven’t denied either of them, but I see how much the second one affects you.” She licks my ear, sending tingles straight through to my cock. “Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.”
I have the urge to do something that I don’t recall ever doing before.
Or at least, it’s something that I don’t believe I’ve ever instigated.
I want to throw my arms around her and hold her close, protect her like a child, like the beautiful, na?ve, compassionate soul that she is.
The sensation, if I leave it unchecked, will blossom like an ache inside my chest, an ache that I don’t have the space for.
“Stay right there.”
I leave our nest and locate the sound system remote on the coffee table. Choosing a country channel, I hit ‘play’ and offer Cartier my hand. A Johnny Cash song is playing. ‘Jackson’.
“Dance with me.”
Her face breaks into a smile that gives her a golden glow, and the ache inside my chest swells in an altogether different way.
She places her hand in mine, and I pull her into my arms right there in front of the panoramic view of Chicago.
We’re both naked. Cartier’s cheeks are flushed from the champagne and the afterglow of multiple orgasms, but she tips her head back and laughs when I grip her right hand and twirl her around, pulling her back against my chest when she reaches three-sixty.
“Where did you learn to dance?”
“My mom taught me when I was a kid.” I spin her around again and catch the beat with my bare feet, throwing in a few moves of my own.
“She said, and I quote: ‘It’s a gentlemanly skill that’s dying out.
If you want to impress a woman, show her that you can dance.
’ So, I learned the basics and realized that I enjoyed it. ”
Cartier leans against my chest and peers up at me as we sway along to our own rhythm. “How many women have you impressed with your dancing skills? A ballpark figure will do.”
I smile. “Plenty, but not in the way you’re thinking. The skill comes in useful with the wives of business associates.”
“The wives? So, men only give the impression that they’re in control, huh?”
I wrap my arms around her and hold her tightly, my erection like a metal rod between our naked bodies. “It dates to cavemen times when we had to catch the food and protect our families. Nowadays, a lot of men want the glory without the effort.”
She licks her lips. “Perhaps they should all learn to dance.”
Better than learning how to handle a firearm. Or set up an incendiary device. Or reciting the motto ‘kill or be killed’ as soon as they can read.
I check out our hazy reflection in the window. Our bodies melded together like we were always meant to find one another this way. I think about Cartier’s fantasy of dancing naked on a raised podium in a busy nightclub. Instead, I’ve given her Chicago.
“All that’s missing is the cowboy boots.” I incline my head towards our reflection.
Cartier scrunches up her nose. “I hoped that you weren't paying attention when I told you about that.”
“Baby, I always pay attention, especially where it concerns you.”
A Lainey Wilson ballad plays through the speakers, and I turn Cartier around so that she’s squarely facing the window. Then I drop to my knees in front of her and spread her legs wide.
“Everyone in Chicago can see you right now if they look up.”
I part her folds and drag my tongue between them, slowly, lingering over her clit, and she leans forward, hands on the window, panting at my touch.
“How does it make you feel?” I glance up at her breasts swinging above my head, and my cock automatically bobs towards them.
“Turned on.”
Slick oozes out from between her legs to reiterate the point, and I lap it up. “You taste as sweet as fucking honey.”
A low purr rumbles inside her chest, and she pinches her nipple with her left hand, tugging it towards the window, showing off her beautiful body.
I slide my tongue deep inside her, licking out her pussy before turning to her clit. I suck and nibble and lick, my balls filling as it swells with all the attention. Cartier’s breathing is already shallow, and I get a thrill of excitement from watching her watching herself in the window.
“I’d never have thought you were such an exhibitionist, baby.”
She gasps. “I’m not.”
“You’re loving every moment of thinking that folks down there are going to watch you come. Admit it.” I suck harder on her clit, tugging on it, making it pulse.
“No one can see…” She’s panting harder.
“You keep telling yourself that, baby. Are you gonna come for me?”
“Yes.” She crushes her breast with her hand.
“Come all over my face, Cartier. Now!”
Her body convulses as the orgasm crashes through the dam. I don’t release her clit. I slide two fingers inside her, keeping it coming while I lick her dry.
Then I lower her onto the fur blankets and stretch out on top of her, easing my cock inside her throbbing pussy. “Wrap your legs around me.”
She doesn’t need to be told twice. She twines her fingers through my hair and pulls my mouth onto hers. Her passion matches mine. Her kisses are hot and demanding, her pussy clenching around my cock trying to suck me in.
“Tell me you want me.” I smooth her hair away from her face.
“I want you, Andrej.”
Fuck, I could listen to my name rolling off her tongue for the rest of my life.
“What do you want me to do to you?”
“I want you to fill me with your cum.”
I smile. “I fucking love it when you talk dirty to me.”
I hook her legs over my shoulders, raising her hips off the floor, and grind my cock into her. “Deep enough for you?”
She slants her eyes wickedly, and my pulse races. “Deeper.”
“Hold on tight, baby.”
Supporting my weight on my hands, I slide my cock all the way out, teasing her folds with the head. Then I let her have all of me.
She unfurls her fingers from my hair as my thrusts get harder, faster, deeper, with my mounting orgasm. She fists the blankets underneath us, her own thrusts meeting mine until eventually, I explode inside her, my legs twitching uncontrollably.
We collapse together on the pile of blankets, Cartier’s legs limp over my shoulders, and I glimpse the contented smile on my face in the reflection in the window.