Page 24 of The Russian Retribution

She was clear.

It will never happen again.

But it’s all I can think about.

The scent of her floral, peachy perfume rising from her skin as I kissed her neck and nuzzled beneath her ear. The silky softness of her hair between my fingers as I held her down. The warmth of her skin against my chest and palms. The tightness of her pussy around my cock and the heat of her wetness against my thighs.

It consumes me. If I close my eyes and let my mind drift, I’m still with her in the warehouse fucking her as hard as I can just to hear every single moan and gasp from her lips.

I want her.

And I can’t have her.

It was a moment of weakness, and in the heat of things, I understand why it happened, but logic doesn’t calm the flutter of my heart each time she looks at me. It’s like a spotlight has appeared over her, and she has consumed me, body and mind.

Even the threat of Viktor isn’t enough to calm my desire for her. It simmers quietly underneath my skin, and no amount of scrubbing can remove it.

Water pours down around me, sending cascades of soap suds off my body as I take my cock in hand and stroke myself once again to the thought of Anastasia. I replay the softness of her lips against mine and her sharp teeth sinking into my tongue. She clawed at my skin, and while those wounds have healed, I still feel them as if she clawed right down to the bone. My hand is a poor substitute for her silken heat, but I make do, stroking myself faster and faster as I lose myself in that memory.

A burst of shame prickles my shoulders when I come against the tiles and reality returns in the form of lukewarm water and the sting of soap in the air. I breathe deeply and study the swirling pattern before me while the last tingles of pleasure fade from my body. I’m left, as always, with an emptiness that I can’t fill.

She will never be mine.

I shower off, and I’m in the middle of drying myself when an alert springs up on my phone from Ryan.

Red Alert.

With my heart in my mouth, I’m barely able to dress myself before concern drags me from my room and I sprint full speed through the manor, not stopping until I’m at the entranceway. Ryan stands with his hand on his rifle, and a look of relief sweeps across his face when he greets me.

“Thank God you're here.”

“What is it?” I gasp, panting heavily. “What’s the emergency?”

“Take a look for yourself.” He jerks his head toward the guard box next to the gate.

With my chest heaving and my heart hammering, I peer through the glass expecting to see something along the lines of the threats Anastasia has been facing these past weeks, so nothing prepares me for seeing Anastasia herself grumpily pacing about inside.

“What the fuck?”

“Right?” Ryan snorts.

“No, what the fuck is wrong with you?” Spinning to face him, I slap him hard on the back of his head when he tries to duck away.

“What the hell?”

“You texted me that it’s a red alert emergency so I sprinted all the way here, you fuck. My hair’s still fucking wet!”

“This is an emergency!”

Grabbing him by the collar, I shake Ryan so violently that his rifle slips from his hands. “A red alert is someone rolling up with a bomb strapped to their chest,” I snarl. “Not the boss!”

“Well shit, you told me to let you know if she was ever trying to leave without you.”

“Yeah, but this isn’t a— Fucking hell, never mind. Get out of here.”

Ryan jerks out of my grip and shrugs himself away, striding back up the path with a quiet mutter of “Asshole.”

Rolling my eyes, I open the door and head inside. Anastasia flies at me immediately, but she hesitates when she sees me instead of Ryan.

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