Page 57 of Twisted Fate

My cock twitches at the memory—Sophia, tousled and wrapped in silk, her hands bloody as she tortured the womanwho tried to kill me. It shouldn’t turn me on, but it does.That’sthe reason I’ve never sought out someone to fall in love with.

But Sophia doesn’t shy away from brutality. She’s beautiful, adventurous, devastatingly sensual and fits me like she was made for my cock. She’s bloody and brave and everything I could have ever fantasized about in a woman—everything I’ve never let myself imagine, because I didn’t believe a woman like her existed.

And now that I do, I don’t want to let go of her for even a second. I want to fucking lose myself in her. Todrownin her.

I’m afraid if I do, I’ll lose myself entirely.

I pace, tugging at my hair with my fingers as I glance toward the door. I’m supposed to meet her for dinner in thirty minutes. All I want to do is drag her back here and feast on her instead. And I know I need to get a hold of myself. If I don’t, I could lose everything I’ve been fighting for.

This is what my father wanted—for me to be so captivated, so distracted, that he could erase all my hard work and throw up roadblocks to stall me in the future after he’s gone.

He just thought that the woman he was trying to distract me with was someone very, very different.

I change for dinner, heading out to meet Sophia. I find her at the bar as usual, sipping at a glass of red wine as she waits for me. She looks relaxed and loose from her spa afternoon, giving me a smile as she gets up to join me.

She doesn’t look as if she’s having any trouble walking, and I make a mental note to rectify that tonight. As soon as we get back to the room, in fact.

I want her legs shaking before the night is over.

She doesn’t ask me about Elia at dinner. Our conversation is polite, careful, as if she’s worried that someone might be listening. And frankly, it drives me a little bit crazy. Now that I’veseen the real her, I don’t want the polite, reserved Sophia that I met at my father’s dinner party that night.

I want the woman who carries a gun out into the savannah and shoots an assassin trying to slit my throat. I want the woman who rubs salt in wounds to get answers.

The woman who gets down on her knees and sucks my cock like she wants to survive off my cum and nothing else.

I’m half-hard all throughout dinner, thinking of what I’m going to do to her later. Sophia rarely orders dessert, but tonight she does, some sweet, creamy custard concoction that she eats daintily with a tiny spoon. When she glances up at me under her eyelashes, licking a drop of the cream off of her lower lip, I feel absolutely fucking certain that she’s doing it to torture me.

“You shouldn’t tease me,volchitsa,” I murmur under my breath, reaching forward to spoon a bite of the custard up for myself. “I might give you a reason to regret it.”

“I doubt it,” she breathes. She takes one last bite, licking her lower lip deliberately, and then sets her napkin down on the table. “Ready to go back to the room?”

I give her a dark look, and I see the shiver that runs down her spine. She stands up slowly, and I press my hand against the small of her back as we walk back to the bedroom.

The moment we step inside, I don’t even bother turning on the light. There’s a dim light cast through the curtain from the lamps outside, just enough to illuminate the bed. I tangle my hand in her loose, dark hair, dragging her mouth to mine as I kiss her hard, pulling her body up against me.

She gasps when she feels my hips against hers, my hard cock grinding into her thigh. She tastes like sweet sugar and vanilla, and I tangle my tongue with hers, licking along her lower lip before drawing it into my mouth, savoring her.

I want to taste every inch of her, and I want to fuck her as hard as I possibly can. I want to take my time, and I want to fucking ruin her.

“I’m going to eat you up,dorogoy,” I growl, backing her toward the bed. “I?—”

Just as I turn her toward the bed, Sophia lets out a cry, wrenching away from me. She shoves me back, hard, and the shock of it is enough to send me stumbling backward, just as she reaches out and snatches back the covers from the very foot of the bed.

My blood goes cold as I see a black, sinuous shape slithering across the mattress.

A black mamba. A deadly poisonous snake. It hisses and rears back, and Sophia backs toward the door, her face pale. I see her looking around for a weapon, and I pivot, grabbing for the gun that I have in my duffel, just as the snake slithers forward and drops to the floor, moving quickly toward me.

I pull the trigger—once, twice, three times. The snake twitches and jerks as the bullets hit it, blood spattering the floor as it turns into nothing more than a mess of gore on the gleaming wood.

Sophia is pressed against the door, her hand against her chest, her green eyes wide. The door dividing our rooms bursts open, and one of my security enters the room, gun drawn.

“Mr. Abramov? What—” He pauses as he sees the torn body of the snake. “What the fuck?—”

“How did this get in here?” I point at it with the barrel of my gun. “Someone put this in my bed. Inourbed,” I add pointedly, glancing up at Sophia. It’s not lost on me that if I’d pushed her down on that bed, she could have ended up being the one bitten. She could have died.

I can’t think about it for very long, because if I do, I’m going to shoot the guard standing in front of me for his failure to protect my wife.

“Sir, I don’t think—” The guard glances at the patio, where only that linen curtain separates the room from the patio and then the savannah outside. “It could have come in from outside. We didn’t hear anyone, or see anything unusual making our rounds?—”

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