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"You're lucky that's all I did," I replied and pulled Celia past my two men, who remained behind, their weapons still drawn. We went back through the restaurant, past white-faced cooks who knew enough to stand back from their counters and grills, their activities halted. My other two men stood guard, watching them. Finally, we left through the back exit into my SUV, which was idling, the rear passenger door open. A driver stood beside it, his hand on the door at the ready.
"Get in," I said softly. I helped her in and then started to fasten her seat belt.
She pushed my hand away. "I can do it."
I lifted my head and met her eyes. I said nothing, watching while she fastened the belt and sat back.
I got in beside her and the driver took off, tires squealing as we left the back alley and merged onto one of Boston's busy downtown streets.
"Where to?" the driver asked.
I said nothing for a moment, my finger tapping on my cell.
"I have to get back to my dorm," Celia said. "I have to study—"
"The safe house," I replied.
"What?" Celia said in protest.
I held up my hand. "Don't say a word."
"Hunter!" Celia was clearly upset. "Our agreement doesn't extend to my ordinary life. I need to go home."
I leaned closer and put my hand behind her head, turning her face so she had to meet my gaze.
"This isn't ordinary life anymore, Celia. That was a message sent from Stepan's brother to me," I said, trying hard to keep my voice calm. "You're in danger in case you didn’t get the message. Taking you was a threat that he could harm you at any time if he wanted. Do you understand?"
She blinked several times, but didn't respond, nodding her head.
I let go and leaned back for a moment, calming myself. Then, I texted the guard at the safe house, and we drove the rest of the way in silence.
While we drove, I considered my circumstances. I wasn't going to let some Russian Goodfella mobster-wannabe take away a toy I was planning on playing with—and playing with real fucking soon.
Chapter 9: Celia
We arrived at a warehouse on the other side of the waterfront, the vehicles screeching to a halt in the back alley. I followed Hunter out of the vehicle and into the rear door to the building, which appeared to be an empty furniture store.
We took a freight elevator to the top floor and emerged into a wide sparsely decorated space. A large bed stood in one corner – four-poster with a thick gold and burgundy damask coverlet and several matching throw pillows. In another corner was a small office of sorts with a few desks and some computer monitors separated off from the rest of the room by some of
fice space dividers. An older man with a grey brush cut sat in front of one of the screens. He turned to us when we approached.
"Leave us," Hunter said to the man, who merely nodded without a word. He grabbed a messenger bag off the desk and left out the door we entered.
When we were alone, Hunter grabbed my hand and pulled me over to the bed, pushing me back onto it, his gaze fixed on me. He leaned over me, forcing me back onto the bed beneath him.
"Don't say a word," he said, his face inches from mine, his voice low and husky. He pulled off my jacket and then tore at my blouse, removing it roughly, then unfastened my bra. "Take off your clothes," he ordered and I complied, my hands shaking.
When I was completely naked, he lay on top of me, grabbing my hands and holding them over my head.
"I'm going to fuck you. Now."
He unbuckled his pants, unzipped and, without undressing at all, pulled out his erection, which was thick and hard. He leaned back over me, pressing against me so that I could feel his length between the lips of my sex. He held my hands in his once more, his mouth almost touching mine, but not quite, and he stared into my eyes. I was barely able to breathe, my pulse rapid, a mix of fear and desire battling inside me.
Then he kissed me, his kiss almost desperate, his mouth devouring mine like he couldn’t get enough. The kiss went on and on, and despite everything, I responded, my body unable to resist his weight on top of me, his cock pressing against my clit. When he broke the kiss, he entered me fully, right to the hilt, exhaling as he did, his eyes closing.
No condom.
"Nice and wet. Nice and tight," he whispered. He reached down, spreading the lips of my sex, feeling the hard nub of my clit with his fingers. I tried not to respond, but couldn't help but gasp at the feel of his fingers on my flesh. "Nice and hard. Almost ready to burst."
