Page 123 of Lethal Torture
“Oh,” he says, his mouth curling in a dangerous smile. “Imagine that. The lights have changed.”
The car surges forward and I cry out, a pathetic whimper of frustration that makes his smile grow even darker. He turns offthe main road, down a quiet residential street not far from my apartment.
“I want you to put two fingers inside yourself, Zinaida.”
Unable to even think of refusing, I obey him.
“Do you know why I chose this road?”
I shake my head, my eyes fluttering closed as I stroke myself, imagining it’s his hands on me, his fingers strong and sure, driving me to the edge.
“Look at me,” he growls.
I force my eyes open.
“I chose it,” he says, smiling evilly, “because of these.” The car hits a speed bump, thrusting me down hard on my own fingers, and I cry out again.
“Now,” he says as we head toward the next one. “You want to know how hard I am, Zin?”
I nod, my fingers increasing their pace, his eyes in the mirror like lasers between my legs.
“I’m so fucking hard my cock is bursting out the top of my trousers.” His low, controlled delivery pushes me right to the brink. “In a moment you’re going to come for me, Zinaida. And the moment we’re out of this car and inside my apartment, do you know what I’m going to do?”
“Oh.” I’m so close I can hardly breathe. “Tell me.”
“I’m going to carry you inside,” he growls, “and throw you across the bed. And then, Zinaida, I’m going to fill you until you scream and fuck you until you can’t walk.”
Orgasm hits me with the sudden force of a hurricane, ripping through me with a savagery that has me bucking and shaking, lost to everything but Luke’s low growl and the searing blue-green eyes between my legs.
I barely notice that we’ve pulled to a stop before Luke tears open the door and lifts me out of the back seat, his mouth on mine before we’ve even reached the elevator.
29
LUKE
“I’msorry to put this on you, Luke.” Roman sounds about as harried as I’ve ever heard him. “It’s Ofelia’s first piano recital tonight, and we promised we’d be in London for it. But we’re in an absolutely shit state at this end. Three kids with chicken pox, plus Abby’s due to go into labor at any minute. I hate to ask it, brother, but if you and Zinaida could manage it, is there any chance you could go in our place?”
“Of course,” I answer without hesitation. “Just send the details through, and we’ll be there.”
I tap Zin on the leg and point to the notepad on the table in front of her.Ofelia, piano recital, tonight,I write.
She nods immediately.Of course, she mouths.
“Thank Christ.” Roman’s relief is palpable. “I owe you, brother. I mean that.”
“It’s nothing.” I stand up, trailing my fingers up Zin’s leg as I do, enjoying her swift intake of breath, the way her body quivers under my touch. “Anything we need to be aware of?”
“I imagine you know as much about classical music as I do,” he says dryly, “so there’s no point in me giving you any technical background. Mickey is going to do his best to be there as well. But he’s in Miami with Lars Andersson and Darya’s brother, Alexei, so they may or may not get to London in time. I’m not sure if Lars and Alexei will be with him or not, but I’ve reserved you all front-row seats under my name in case they are.”
“No problem. It will be good to see them if they make it. I haven’t caught up with Lars and Alexei since Miami.”
Lars Andersson is a tech whiz kid turned billionaire software developer and Alexei Petrovsky’s closest friend. He was instrumental in helping rescue Roman’s daughter and in the years since has become something of a mentor to Roman’s son Mickey.
The sound of a crying baby cuts down the line. “I have to go,” Roman says abruptly. “Christ, if you think flying bullets are stressful, wait until you’ve got three sick kids. Thanks again.” He ends the call without anything further, and I put the phone down.
“That sounded like quite the circus.” Zin looks inquiringly at me.
“Yup.” I fold my arms, grinning. “And I’m not going to lie—I take a sadistic satisfaction in imagining the mighty Roman Borovsky brought to his knees by crying babies.”
