My hands slide inside the waistband of her too-big jeans, working the denim down her hips and over her ass. Her underwear isn’t lace or a thong. It’s simple cotton. Soaked simple cotton. I find her swollen clit under the damp fabric, circling the nub of nerves twice with my thumb.
Carina stutters out my name, her hands searching for purchase before she grips the edge of the desk. Her back arches, the contours of her spine visible in a neat line of vertebrae.
“Fuck, I can’t—please. Please, Lev.”
“Such a good girl,” I praise, slipping my fingers under the wet cotton and spreading her dripping cunt. “Perfect manners while you beg for my cock.”
“I’m not—I can’t—oh, that’s …” Her words dissipate into a series of moans, in perfect synchrony with the spasms of her inner muscles.
I always ensure she comes first. But she’s never come that fast before. I like, more than I should, that it happened for the first time now. There are no illusions between us, not anymore, and she came as soon as I touched her.
Her head turns, inhales ragged and cheeks red. “Sorry. It’s been a while.”
I intend to ask what the fuck she’s apologizing for. Instead, “How long?” comes out.
“Since the …” She hesitates, then continues, “Since the Meridian.”
The last hotel we met at months ago. No one’s fucked her since the last time I did. It shouldn’t matter—I shouldn’t care—yet there’s a hot, possessive flare that suggests it does. That I do.
My balls are heavy and tight. The tip of my cock is leaking. It’s going to be a challenge for me not to come before she does again.
I guide my erection between her spread thighs, finding and smearing the wetness gathered there with the broad head. I feel her cunt contract, trying to pull me inside.
I’ve walked away before. I’ll do it again.
I shove inside of her with one brutal thrust, forcing her to take it all at once.
I’m angry with Carina. Angry with myself. Mostly, I’m mad that this is the last time.
There is no tomorrow.
Not for any version of us.
FIVE MINUTES OF FREEDOM
“Why did you shoot Seamus?”
Lev switches lanes suddenly, prompting some honks of protest, then tells me, “He knew your new identity.”
“You mean, you were going to kill him all along?”
“Yes.”
“But he was—weren’t you guys … friends?”
“I have no friends, Carina. There are men who work for me and one I work for.”
“Your father?”
“Yes.”
“Do you think Seamus knew you would …”
“There are always risks.”
“He’d done other jobs for you before?”
“Yes. He was very good. Your documents will pass inspection.”
