Page 48 of Lethal Abduction

“Fuck.” His large hands twine loosely in my hair. I hold his eyes as I shift the liquid back and forth, swirling it around his pulsating shaft as it grows in my mouth. I roll the vodka around the broad, blunt head, feeling myself swell as he does, moisture trickling into the crease of my inner thigh. Then I swallow the vodka, and Dimitry groans, his eyes rolling back in his head as he thrusts into my mouth. I sink my lips onto him and increase the speed and intensity, hollowing my mouth out and plying the ridge beneath his head until he’s mindless on the bed, his cock surging into my mouth, his hands unashamedly pushing me onto him.

Then, just as he’s getting close, he raises my head. “Not yet,” he says hoarsely.

I stare down at the huge throbbing shaft, moaning softly. I love having him in my mouth. It turns me on more than almost anything else. I’m on my knees, my ass thrust behind me, and I know I’m dripping wet.

Dimitry pours himself another drink and hands me mine. “I’m fucking cheating,” he says roughly. “I need a drink, or this is all going to be over faster than I want. So you get two questions. Make them quick, Skip, because I’m just about done with playing games.”

I’m just grateful he’s staring at me, instead of at the powdery residue in the glass, which thankfully disappears with the next drink.

I slip off the bed and stagger across to the easel, watching him from the corner of my eye, my entire body pulsing with need. I draw him the way he looks right now, hard and aching for me, his shaft wet and veined from my mouth.

“You have the same last name as Roman. Are you related to him?”

“No.” Dimitry’s answer is short and to the point. His hand stretches out toward me, his fingers curling as if they’re inside me. I tremble, already knowing how they will feel.

Not yet, Abby. Keep him talking.

“Why do you have the same name, then?”

“Because we’ve been together since we were kids. When he was adopted, I came to Spain with him. It was easier for us to have the same name on the fake passports.” His hand wavers in the air, then falls down to the bed. He stares down at it, frowning slightly, as if he can’t quite work out why it fell. “It’s your turn, Skippy. I mean it’s mine.” His voice slurs slightly on my name, and he frowns again as he pours us both a glass and hands one to me. Despite his lack of coordination, he drinks his shot off. “Come here.”

He pulls himself up to sitting, swinging his legs to the floor, and pulls me between them, holding my ass in his hands. He turns me slowly, his hands on my hips, and despite the terrible game I’m playing, I can’t help but feel the leap of desire, the heavy pulse beating between my legs. “Fuck, I love this ass,” he murmurs, taking a pretend bite of it. “And this pussy. Do you have any idea how fucking amazing you taste,Skip?” Burying his face in it, his lips close over my clit, and I cry out as he works it with his tongue until the only things holding me up are his hands.

“Enough with the game,” he growls. “I need to be inside you, Abs.”

Lifting me by the ass, he spreads me across his lap, and I sink onto his length like I’m coming home.

“Oh,” I gasp as he rocks me against him. “Oh God, Dimitry.”

“This pussy.” He groans, thrusting up into me. “Fuck, I love the feel of this.” He lies back down and surges up into me, rolling my hips so he angles just right, and I’m so wet and so close to the edge I can feel it reaching for me as soon as he drives home.

“The way you clench around me,” he says, his voice rough. “You drive me out of my fucking mind, Abby.”

“Your cock.” I lean forward and put my mouth against his ear, the words coming without thought or plan. “When you’re right inside me—fuck,yes, just like that—when you’re all the way inside me, God, I could come forever...” I sit up again, my movements against him becoming wilder.

“You’re so fucking beautiful like that.” Dimitry grips my hips as I grind against him, meeting my every movement. “So hot and tight—fuck, Abby. I can feel you coming around me. Oh, Christ.” He plunges up into me fiercely as my whole body seizes, poised on the very brink of the incredible crest, holding my breath and the feeling as long as I can. Then he shifts just slightly, hitting the spot I can’t fight, and suddenly I’m bucking and screaming, and he’s roaring and exploding inside me, and for an endless moment, nothing in the world exists except this moment.

Then, slowly, we come back to earth, and reality reasserts itself.

Dimitry pulls me down beside him, his eyes closed. “Wow,”he says softly. “Fuck, I must be more tired than I thought. Hey.” His eyes open, but the pupils are incredibly dilated as he tries to focus on the easel. “That sketch is amazing, Skip.”

Now. If you’re going to ask him anything, it has to be now. Another ten minutes and he’ll be out like a light.

“How did you meet Roman?”

Dimitry squints at me. “Is it your turn again?”

I nod. “Yes. And I get two turns, because you had two drinks.”

“Huh.” He smiles dazedly. “Okay, Skip. I met Roman in a halfway house when I was ten.” His voice is slurry. I trace his face, running my hands through his hair. He closes his eyes. “That feels so good, Skip...”

“Why were you in a halfway house?” I croon in his ear, kissing his face, massaging his head.

“Feels so good.” He moans softly. “Was after . . . juvie. Got . . . busted for drugs . . . Yakov . . . he told me I wouldn’t get caught, but I did . . .” His voice is fading, and I can tell I’m losing him.

“Yakov? Who’s Yakov?”

“Yakov... my father’s friend. But not my friend.” Dimitry shakes his head clumsily from side to side. He’s clearly losing it. “He wanted me back... after juvie. I said no. But I had no other... family. The other kids beat me and... stuff.”

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