Chapter 22
Nika
I don’t exist anymore, not as a person or a weapon.
Everything boils down to nerves, sensations stuck in an endless cycle of yearning and loss.
Half my body is warm, nearly hot with the fire so close. The side facing away from the flames is chilled, which makes the heat from Max’s hand stand out even more. Despite the cold trying to seep through the windows and into my trembling muscles, sweat dampens my skin.
I crave the feel of his tongue again, his fingers. Everything.
The logical, rational region of my brain screams from behind a thick curtain, desperate to pull me back from this precipice. To keep me from surrendering.
The rest of me—my body, my very soul—craves whatever he’s offering.
All I have to do is…answer his questions.
“He betrayed my mother.”
When his shoulders brush the inside of my thighs, I spread them even more, giving him all the room he needs.
His beard tickles my skin, leaving a riot of new sensations in its wake. Then he hovers, his breath teasing me and cooling me off, which somehow warms me up. “How did you get into the ballroom?”
In town? The gala? Why does that matter? “I just walked right in. No one tried to stop me.”
His mouth presses against me, his whiskers scraping as his tongue slides over my swollen bundle of nerves.
Oh god, it’s so good, and all I had to do was tell him what he would have already known if he’d paid any attention.
“What do you want?”
You.
No, Nika, that’s the wrong answer. “The, um…locket.”
The silky, prickly combination of his beard and tongue continues to flick over my clit, randomly pushing down into my pussy. My eyelids drift shut as my body relaxes into the bliss.
Part of me wants to pin him with my thighs and smother him to death. Hell, I should be using this situation to my advantage by seizing control while he’s distracted, while he’s weakened with that ankle.
For some ridiculous reason, I can’t. Every touch shoots fire through my body, a tingly, heated pleasure that I’m helpless to fight against. I’m not even sure I would want to fight it if I could.
He’s winning, the bastard, and I can’t even be mad about it.
“Where is Dimitri now?” His question breaks through my haze.
I shake my head, my mouth dry. “No clue.”
He starts to draw back, and I have the sinking suspicion he’s going to stop.
I clamp my thighs together, attempting to hold him in place as I gather my scrambled thoughts. “I really don’t know. Before the blizzard, he was on his way to meet you.” I want to bite my own tongue, pissed I’ve already revealed so much information. Am I really so weak that—
I forget how to breathe when two fingers slip inside me, filling that ache that’s been building for days.
I moan, low and long, my hands clenching.
His fingers bend and scissor. “How did you know where to find us?”
I suck in a steady breath because “death by lack of oxygen while being fingered by your enemy” sounds like a shitty way to go. “I remembered the address.”
One hand slides up my hip, then behind my back, and suddenly, the zip ties pop loose.
I don’t know how, and I don’t care.
Once free, I don’t reach for his throat or shove him away. I don’t do any of the things Dimitri trained me to do when an enemy gives me an opening.
Instead, I grab the back of his head, bracing my other hand on the arm of the chair. Using both for leverage, I curve my hips up and press his face deeper into my pussy.
Max quickens his pace.
This is just nerves. Only biology. A basic human need. Doing this with him means nothing.
Afterward—when our heart rates have slowed and I’ve experienced oral sex for the first time—we’ll go back to hating each other. While he recovers, I’ll kill him.
“Where did you get the diamonds?”
Despite my body muffling his voice, I can still make out the question. “Dimitri found them. Didn’t say how. I didn’t ask.”
He splays his hand, easing the tip of one digit just inside my ass.
Holy hell, did I think lack of oxygen might kill me? I was wrong. I just might die from euphoria overload.
I grind down into the exquisite sensation, then buck up to reach his mouth.
His fingers curl, offering me what I want. “Who is Dimitri to you?”
The pressure builds, sliding over tender skin. Then he hits that one spot that whites out my vision.
I gasp. “Teacher. Helper.” Shit, at this point, I don’t care what I say, as long as he keeps going.
He sucks my clit, curving his fingers over and over, gliding in and out.
Wetness pours out of me, pooling in his hand, slicking his fingers that slip in and fill me twice as much as I expected.
The sensation’s almost more than I can bear.
“Good girl.” The words rumble against my skin. “That’s it, sweetheart. Break for me.”
The praise shouldn’t affect me like this. Shouldn’t make my body clench around him and my grip in his hair tighten.
But apparently I’m so far gone that it does.
His finger pushes the rest of the way into my ass. The two fingers in my pussy speed up and his teeth clamp down on my clit while he sucks.
My hips develop a mind of their own, jerking up and down. I’m fucking my ass onto his finger, but I don’t care. So long as his other fingers don’t stop. As long as his mouth continues its magic. “Oh, god, yes.”
“When did you come to this house?” The questions keep coming, his voice the only thing grounding me while his hands destroy me.
“Three…” I gasp as his hand shifts inside me. I don’t know what he’s doing, but it’s so freaking wonderful. “Three years ago.”
“Perfect. Come for me.”
Who the hell does he think he is that he can command me to orgasm?
His fingers curl. His thumb grinds down on my clit. There’s a delightful pinching pain in my nipple. I’m so full, so stretched, so—
The world shatters.
The orgasm rips through me as white light explodes behind my eyes. My pussy convulses around his fingers in ways I never expected. It’s like my body is trying to tear itself apart by squeezing the life out of him.
Everything fades except the pulsing fullness and the slide of his hair between my fingers. Waves of pleasure crash over me, through me, destroying everything I thought I was and leaving a raw, new Anika Kozlov in its place.
My throat hurts, and only then do I realize the roaring in my ears is my own scream.
When the pleasure finally ceases, I collapse in the chair, utterly spent.
My arms and legs exist only as tingles. The rest of my body’s nothing but pulses and quivers I can’t reel in. I suck in air, wondering when I last took a breath.
Then Max eases his fingers out of me, and the twitching starts all over again.
I want the pleasure back. All of it. The fullness…
I open my eyes.
He’s breathing hard, too, still on his knees in front of me, leaning back and undoing his pants. His eyes shine with victory and lust. He’s still rigid.
I’ve already been satisfied and gave him nothing of worth.
He thinks he’s won, but he’s empty-handed.
Even as the aftershocks roll through me—as my body trembles and my mind struggles to reform itself from the scattered pieces—I’m recalibrating.
Nothing I said, as far as I can remember, matters.
Now I’m going to give him what he thinks he wants.
But that won’t be a gift.
It’ll be a shiv to his black heart.