"What did he say this time?" Oksana asks without looking up. She’s cleaning a blade with a square of gauze that she liberated from the hospital. The lighting is being kind to her bruises. The old ones are mostly gone now, but the new ones spur renewed anger in me, wishing I could kill the fucker who did that to her.
The cabin lights cast gold along the edges of her red hair; she looks like a fiery angel who decided to learn to kill.
"Same hymn, louder choir," I answer. "Stop this madness. You have no idea what you’re doing. Bring my men home. You’re going to ruin us all."
Her mouth curves, not a smile. "He’s half right. You did take half his men."
"Half followed me," I correct. "There’s a difference." Then, because it matters, "The other half will come when they see we can actually end this."
"Hmm." She pinches the blade clean and slides it back into the ankle sheath, making my dick stand to attention. Why the hell is seeing a weapon on her so damn sexy? "Or when you bury the Venezuelan who signs their envelopes."
"Or when I bury the fucking Venezuelans, yes," I agree with a smile.
"Oh, I know that look," Oksana's tongue darts over her lips. Her pupils dilate with the same desire that is running through my veins. We haven't had any privacy in days, not really. Supply closets and hospital bathrooms had become the only places we could let the tension between us snap. Now I'm remembering that we're on my jet and that it has a private bedroom.
"Want to join the Mile High Club?" I raise an eyebrow.
She barks a laugh, slaps my arm, and shakes her head like I’m ridiculous and she adores me for it. Jealousy flickers sharp in my chest. I love this woman—all heredges, all her fire—but a selfish part of me wants to be her first insomething.Anything.
The thought dissolves the moment she gets up. She chose a tight dress this morning, one that shows every inch of her curves. It's lime green, a perfect, deadly combination with her hair, which falls in soft curls down her back. I watch the gentle sway of her ass, the outline of it under the skirt, and I'm ready to slay any dragon for her.
She doesn't stop, but she slows and looks provocatively over her shoulder at me. "Coming?"
She's already halfway to the bedroom by the time I catch up, heels clicking on the polished aisle. The jet turbulence throws her off balance, and she grabs a headrest, looks back at me with narrow, challenge-glinted eyes. She wants to be chased. Fuck, that's hot.
I close the gap and press her to the wall just inside the bedroom cabin, one hand braced near her face, the other roaming shamelessly down her flank. There’s a bed—a real bed—only a foot behind her, big enough for a king and then some. But I need her up against something hard first.
She’s panting, mouth open, tongue visible for a second. "You count as a club member if you do it every flight?" her voice dares, sharp as a blade.
"Only if you finish," I reply, pushing a knee between her thighs. The dress has a slit, and my hands find the way. I wedge it up to her hips, baring both ass and the faint V of her panties. My palms cup her as I hike her up, andOksana, always the overachiever, gets her legs around my waist without a wasted thought.
She bites my shoulder through my shirt, then my earlobe. I feel her teeth drag just enough to hurt. "You ever fuck a woman so hard she can’t walk to the runway car?" she growls.
I grin so wide my face hurts. "Going to make it a first for both of us."
I carry her to the bed, toss her down, and the bounce makes her snarl with laughter, that animal glee. "Get on your back," I order.
She props up on her elbows and raises one eyebrow. "Is that your best bedroom voice?"
"No," I say, and rip the dress seam up the rest of the way, exposing the impossible length of her legs. "But I like you better mouthy than obedient." I shuck my pants, my cock is already hard as rebar, and I line myself up over her. She’s already rubbing her clit through the drenched panties, eyes locked on mine.
"Impatient," she taunts.
"Desperate," I correct.
She sits bolt upright, grabs my cock, and strokes it hard and rough. "Then shut up and fuck me, Conti."
The first thrust has her gasping, making her eyes go wide. She’s so tight, so wet, I grit my teeth to keep control. I don’t go slow, not for a second. I pin her wrists above herhead with one hand, the other at her jaw, thumb circling the pulse at her throat. Her head kicks back, exposing the line of her neck for me. I slam into her, again and again, and the slap of skin against skin echoes off the cabin walls.
She yells, guttural, Russian curses threading with my name. She wants it brutal and gets it. I fuck her like she’s the only thing holding me to this earth, like if I let up for a second, I’d float into the sun. The bed slams against the wall.
"Who do you belong to?" I growl in her ear.
She bites down on my hand, hard. "No one."
I pound her viciously until she chokes. "Try again."
Her hands break free, claw down my back, nails scoring deep. I hiss but don’t stop, don’t let up. Her face twists, desperate for air, desperate for me.
