In For the Kill (McClouds & Friends #11)(93)

She reclined, propped up on her elbows, shivering as he stroked her from her knees up to the baby-soft warmth of her inner thighs. Warm, smooth skin, the graceful shape of her thighs, the swirling puff of ringlets between. The lickable, kissable, f*ckable pouting folds of her beautiful cunt, shining and hot. He slid his fingers into her slick heat. She arched and sighed, squeezing around his fingers. He shucked the pants, let his cock spring out, heavy and stiff. Sank his fingers knuckle-deep into her wet warmth, finger-f*cking as she bucked and trembled, nightgown shoved up. Spread open, offering it all to him.

Except that it wasn’t all. Not even close. He’d gone forward as if frequent, prolonged bouts of wild sex would make up for what she wouldn’t give him. It wasn’t working out, but he still could not stop.

He inhaled her sexy scent, and lapped his tongue hungrily around her clit while his fingers plunged and delved. She arched off the bed, whimpering as she clenched around his fingers in a wrenching climax.

He wedged his cock into her tight, slick little hole while she was still quivering with the aftershocks, and pumped lazily in and out.

He arched over her, staring straight into her eyes.

“This isn’t enough,” he said. “I want more from you. You think you can manage me like this? Just drop your panties and give me a little treat whenever I start to bitch and whine?”

She shook her head and cupped his face with her slender hands.

“I’m giving what I have to give,” she said. “It’s yours, anyhow. You know that.” Moonlight shone full on her beautiful eyes, swimming with tears. “Take it if you want it.”

He took it.



Sveti slept long and deeply. She was usually jolted awake by nightmares before dawn, no matter how tired she was, but today, the sun was high when her eyes opened. She felt rested, relaxed.

Then her eyes met Sam’s, and last night’s events thundered through her head. Her face heated. Her thighs squeezed around the tender ache. He’d peeled back so many layers of her, to some secret part deep inside that flowered madly just for him.

She blinked back hot tears, just thinking about it.

Sam lay on his back, his thickly muscled arms folded back behind his head. So handsome, even scowling. He looked as if he’d been awake for a long time, staring, cogitating, seething. Lying in wait for her. His jaw was set. His mouth looked grim and tight.

“Good morning,” she said.

He stared at her for a moment. “That remains to be seen,” he said. “It depends on what’s required of me. Today’s agenda bites my ass.”

Oh, boy. He was in one of his moods. This was going to be complicated. She sat up, shoved her hair off her face, groping for something to say that wasn’t going to make things worse.

Her phone rang. She jerked up to respond, but Sam was quicker, and closer. He snagged it with his long arm and held it out of her flailing reach as he examined the number. Buzz. Buzz.

“Is this your slobbering lech of a future boss?” he asked. “If so, don’t answer. I do not want to listen to you talking to him.” Buzz. Buzz.

“Give me that!” She wrenched the thing out of his grip and stared at it, flustered. The number was unfamiliar.

“I don’t know this number,” she said. “It’s no one in my family.”

Sam peered at it. “That’s an Italian cell phone. Don’t answer.”

She shot him an eloquent glance and hit ‘talk.’ “Hello?”

She waited. Silence, but no beeping. The silence had depth. The line was open.

“Who is it?” Sam asked.

She waved for him to be quiet. “Is someone there?” She barely made out the faint sound of breathing. Her first thought was Sasha, but Sasha had long since given up trying to speak on the telephone. The words just wouldn’t come out.

The next possibility bubbled up out of nowhere. “Misha? Is that you?” she asked in Ukrainian.

Sam’s body went rigid next to her. “What the f*ck?”

“Shhhh. Talk to me,” she coaxed whoever was listening. She glanced at Sam, who looked ready to erupt. “The line’s open, but no one’s talking,” she said to him.

“So hang the f*ck up!”

She shook her head. “Misha,” she said softly into the phone. “I’m your friend. Sasha loves you so much. He worries about you, and brags about you. How bright you are, how special.”

“Sveti!” Sam hissed.

She turned her back on him and kept talking. “Remember that I’m here for you. Call me whenever you want. I’ll always listen.”

A click, and the live silence went flat. The listener was gone.

She let the phone drop, afraid to meet Sam’s eyes.

“Have you lost your goddamned mind?” he bellowed.

“Evidently.” She was still surprised by what she’d done.

“That could have been anyone! What the hell did you say to him?”

“Stop yelling,” she said quietly. “Nothing dangerous or compromising. I said I’m his friend. That Sasha loves him, that I’d be there for him.”

Sam rubbed his face violently. “Oh, f*ck me.”

“Stop carrying on,” she said. “I have a lot to do today, so—”

“Yeah, about that.” His hand clamped around her arm. “We have stuff to talk about first. Stuff we put off, from last night.”