In For the Kill (McClouds & Friends #11)(79)

Pulling out almost killed him. His cock shone, radiated scorching heat. “So?” he prompted her. “Show me that you trust me.”

He moved aside. She rolled over and got onto all fours, her body shaking. Her hair swung forward, hiding her face. Her arms shook. He positioned himself behind her, marveling at the perfect shape of her ass, the shadowy marvels between as he gently urged her legs wider.

“Do you want me?” he rasped.

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Invite me. With your body. Show me.”

It was beautiful to behold, the graceful arch of her back, the swirl of hair dangling down, the shy, sensual glance back.

She cried out at the first thrust, but she soon braced herself, rocking back to meet him. The bed rocked in time with the heavy slapping rhythm. He could have exploded then and there, but he had a point to make. He tuned in to those secret senses that bloomed open whenever he f*cked her, swiveling, stroking. Driving her to that place in her head where everything sharpened to a fine point—

And detonated, together. The force of it blotted out the world. There was just wave after throbbing wave of blinding pleasure.

They collapsed on the bed. The last thread of consciousness he had was dedicated to not crushing her. He lifted himself away, sometime later, and sprawled alongside her. Boneless.

“You could trust me more,” he said.

“I try,” she whispered. “But it’s a mistake, to play games. Dominance, submission. It makes me feel . . . ashamed.”

Fuck. “Ashamed?” He jerked up onto his elbow. “It’s not about dominance and submission! It’s about pleasure! Have you been listening to me at all?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “I just know that I’m lost, in all this. I can’t find my way.” Her voice shook.

He held out his hand. “Let me lead you. Trust me. I’ll take you through the dark. All the way to the other side.”

Sveti’s eyes flicked from his hand to his eyes. She did not take his proffered hand. Wary of a trap.

“It’s not a power game,” he urged. “It’s give-and-take. Look at the sorry state I’m in. I’d do anything. I’ll follow you around like a lap dog, when I’m not beating assassins off you. Is that not submissive enough? What the f*ck else do you want from me? Leather and chains?”

“Sam . . .” She rubbed her face and shook her head wearily. “You’re a man. It costs you nothing to play at being submissive.”

“Play?” He stared at her. “You think I strut around like the king of everything just because I have a dick? I know how it feels to be at someone’s mercy. You’ve had me on my knees for years, so don’t give me shit about my dominating attitude. I know how to sit and beg and roll over. You’ve seen me do it. Hell, babe, you taught me how.”

A knock on the door jarred them. He was on his feet, yanking on his jeans. Sveti leaped off the bed and scrambled toward the bathroom.

“Who is it?” he called.

A female voice answered. “I’m looking for Svetlana Ardova.”

He edged into the sitting room, gun in hand. “Who wants her?”

“I’m Nadine Muller,” the voice said. “Is she there?”

Sveti opened her mouth. Sam put his finger to his lips and waved her into the bathroom. “Who gave you this room number?”

“I know the concierge,” she said. “Federico’s a friend of mine.”

“I’m going to have a talk with friendly Federico about security.”

“Actually, Federico is discussing security right now with Silvano, one of Mr. Hazlett’s team.” A business card slid under the door, followed by a UK driver’s license. He examined them. The license looked real. Her name was right. “That’s me,” she said. “Mr. Hazlett sent me. Satisfied?”

Not really, but when would he ever be? He cracked the door.

A slender blonde stood there, in an elegant black and white dress. Flaxen hair, a kittenish face that matched the one on the license. He peered into the corridor. Handed the woman her card and her license.

She took the license, leaving the card. Her eyes flicked over his bare torso, his half-buttoned jeans. Drying sweat. The reek of sexual discharge. Tough shit. That’s what she got for sneaking up on people.

She cleared her throat. “I’ve come at an awkward time, Mr . . . ?”

“Petrie,” he said.

She waited for more. “Is Svetlana here?”

“Yes, I am.” Sveti emerged from the bathroom, fully dressed in a graceful, dark blue wrap dress and blue pumps. Remarkably put together for a woman who had been in a state of sexual collapse moments before. “I’m sorry to greet you this way. Come in. Sam, why don’t you take your turn in the bathroom while I talk with Nadine?”

The two women’s eyes fixed upon him, expectantly.

Right. As if he was going to go wait meekly in the bathroom and leave her alone in a room with a strange woman. Not in this universe.

“Nah, I don’t think so,” he said blandly. “I’ll just stay here.”

Sveti’s mouth tightened. “I’d like to talk with Nadine. In private.”

“I won’t interrupt you,” he said. “I’ll just sit here. Talk away.”