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That sting intensified and then melted into a pleasure-pain that froze my lungs when he moved. He thrust inside me hard, unrelenting, not kissing or touching me as he had before. And through it all, he held my gaze, his eyes stone cold, unreadable, his face a mask of anger.
Before I could stop myself, I reached for him, tangled my fingers in his hair, and I thought I saw a shift in his expression, some sign of the softness I had seen glimpses of before.
But in a flash it was gone, and he hooded his eyes and thrust harder.
I squeaked out a moan and then held his huge shoulders, deciding, at least for now, to focus on the pleasure he was giving me. He’d never felt quite so distant, not even when we were so new to each other, but my body couldn’t tell the difference, and as he moved, pleasure coursed through me. When he stroked even harder, burying himself inside me so deep his pelvis pressed my clit, I exploded in climax, my eyes slamming shut against the orgasm he had ripped from me.
He went still above me, his cock throbbing inside me as he spent himself, the warm burst of his seed painting my womb.
Before my breath had slowed, he pulled away, my body feeling empty without his hardness, my arms equally empty without his body.
He stood, his softening cock, now wet with our juices, still impressive. Then he looked down at me again with Arctic eyes.
“Don’t ever do something so stupid again,” he said, and then he turned.
The remnants of pleasure dissipated in the face of his disdain, at the sharpness and censure in his tone, and I sat up.
“Something stupid like what, leave the house unattended? Go visit a friend? You said I wasn’t a prisoner here. Was that a lie?” I said, voice low in my throat.
He stopped and stood still, the broad expanse of his tattoo-covered back and his powerful legs making him menacing, an effect that only intensified when he turned back to face me.
“No, you’re not a prisoner, but you don’t understand. It’s not safe…” he said, his voice going low on the last word.
I thought of David, of the other enemies Vasile no doubt had, and realization clicked in my mind. “You were worried?”
He didn’t agree, but he didn’t deny my words either, which was answer enough. I stood, uncaring of my nudity or the trickle of cum that ran down my leg.
“I was careful. I know?—”
“You don’t know anything,” he said coldly.
“What? Nothing like how that,” I pointed at the tattoo on his left shoulder, “means you’re fourth-generation clan. Or how that one,” I pointed right below his ribs, “made you and tells the story of your first murder. Or how that one,” I put my hand over his left pec, “means you can be trusted and will never snitch.” I grabbed his hands and ran my fingers across his knuckles. “Or how each of these tells the story of a clan war you fought in.”
“How do…?” he asked.
“I was there for years, Vasile. Saw everything. I know all about the Peruvians, the other clans, the Sicilians, and David who washes all of your dirty money, his father who did so before him,” I said.
“Fawn…”
“What? I told you I wasn’t stupid. I know what you are. I know what you do. And I know the risks. I just needed to see her. I owed her that much, wanted it for myself. Needed to do it alone,” I said.
He grabbed me and pulled me into an air-stealing embrace. “Fine, but don’t ever leave like that. I didn’t know where you were, and I thought?—”
“Now! Take me to her now, or I’m burning this bitch down!”
I pulled away and looked at Vasile, whose surprised expression probably mirrored my own, and then we both looked toward the closed door.
“Looks like Esther’s here,” I said.
* * *
Fawn
After hastily dressing, I followed Vasile out the door to stand in the drive where Esther stood, Oleg behind her looking like he didn’t know what to do, Sorin in front of her, his face a mix of danger and slightly unhinged humor.
“I don’t care who you are, I want to see her now, or I’ll?—”
“You’ll what, huh? Call the cops?” Sorin said, his voice that mix of laughter and lethal I had come to know was uniquely his.
