She’s the most dangerous thing I’ve ever encountered, in a world full of violent, deadly men.
She could make me want things I’ve never thought I was allowed to have.
"You're good at this," I say quietly.
"I took a first aid course once." She glances up at me, and my chest tightens at the softness in her eyes. "Seemed like a useful skill."
"It is useful."
She goes back to cleaning the wound, and I let myself just feel it. Her hands on my skin. The careful way she's touching me. The intimacy of this moment that has nothing to do with sex. I’ve been inside women and not felt as close to them as I do to Liesl right now.
When she's done with my shoulder, she reaches for a clean cloth and wets it with warm water. "There's blood everywhere else too," she says softly. "May I?"
I nod, not trusting my voice. I feel like I’d do anything right now if she’d keep touching me, keep caring for me. Me, the violent, brutalpakhan, craving the softness and warmth of a woman’s touch. A healing, gentle touch.
I need it with a depth that frightens me.
She starts with my hands, washing away the dried blood with careful strokes. Her fingers are gentle but thorough, cleaning between my fingers and around my wrists, and I watch her as she does. No one has ever touched me like this before.
She moves to my arms next, washing away the blood and grime, and I can feel my control starting to slip. The pain is there, still, but it’s fading beneath the growing strength of my desire. I feel my cock twitch in my jeans, pressing against the zipper. She looks so perfect, there on her knees. I want her so badly. The ache spreads through me like a wildfire.
"Liesl.” My voice comes out rough with a warning.
She swallows hard, but she doesn't stop. She moves to my chest, washing away the blood there too, and I can see her hands trembling slightly. I can see by the way her breathing has changed that she's affected by this too. Her hands glide up my abs, over my pecs, and I feel my muscles flex. Her breath catches.
"You should stop.” I don't mean it. I don't want her to stop. I want her to keep touching me until I forget about Yuri and the failed extraction and the weight of leadership that's crushing me.
"Do you want me to?" she asks softly. Her eyes rise to meet mine. Her hand is still on my chest. It feels as if it could burn me. My cock is throbbing.
"No." I grit out the word between my teeth, and I watch something shift in her expression. She sets down the cloth and moves closer, kneeling between my legs now. The position is so intimate it makes my breath catch.
I could take my cock out right now, wrap my hand in her hair, feed it between her lips. I could fulfill that fantasy that’s been in my head as I stroked my cock so many times now.
But it feels too obscene for what’s happening in this moment. This feels like it should be… something else. I don’t want her mouth on my cock right now.
I want it on mine.
My hand slides into her hair. I hear her gasp in the moment before I pull her to me, dragging her head upward, and lean forward to clash my lips against hers.
A moan spills from her lips as our mouths connect, her lips parting against mine as her hand flattens against my chest. The cloth falls away, and my other arm goes around her, pulling her up as I rise and back her against the counter.
She’s already panting as I grab her t-shirt and yank it over her head. There’s nothing under it. She’s bare, all of her pale, rose-hued skin on display, and I break the kiss, desperate to have my mouth all over her. I yank down the soft shorts she’s wearing with one jerk of my wrist, and then her panties, until she’s completely naked in front of me.
I lift her up and set her on the edge of the counter. She gasps as the cool marble touches her ass, the sound almost immediately swallowed as I kiss her again.
Part of me wants to slow down, to savor her, to make this last. To kiss every inch of her, go down on my knees and lick her to an orgasm, or two, or three, before I finally push my cock into her and have what I’ve been craving since the day I walked in and heard her bratty mouth for the first time.
But there’s no brat in her now. She’s all need, all yearning, and I can’t wait long enough to go slow.
I drag my mouth to her jaw, her neck, her collarbones. I palm her breast, squeezing lightly, and I feel her gasp as I drag my thumb over her taut nipple. I push her legs wider, move to stand between them, and her hands drop to the button of my jeans.
“No fair,” she gasps. “I’m naked and you’re not.”
Her thumb flicks open the button, and I almost stop her to warn her, but something dark and twisted in me decides not to. I want to see the shock on her face when she sees me for the first time, when she wraps her hand around me bare.
“I’m not using a condom.” I grab her chin, tilt her face up. “I want you hot and wet around my bare cock,ptitsa. So if you’re not on birth control, let me know now.”
“I have an IUD,” she whispers. I wait for her to demand a condom, but she doesn’t. Her eyes are big and wide in her face, and when she drags my zipper down instead of arguing, my cock strains to the point of pain.
