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I don’t. Ican’t.There’s this burning itch inside me that only grows fiercer as he traces his teeth with his tongue while spreading my knees.
“Pathological,” I mutter, and I don’t even know how I’m saying anything at this point. All my thoughts are consumed by the feel of his hand inching closer and closer to the thin barrier of lace between him and my pussy.
“Psychotic.” His fingers slip under the elastic, and I suck in sharply as he grazes the outside of my pussy. He groans, and I bite my lip to stop from doing the same as he parts my lips.
He breaks my gaze for the first time to look down at my mouth. The thumb of his other hand brushes achingly slow across my bottom lip until it slips out from under my teeth.
His fingertips slip into my pussy, just barely past the entrance. His eyes squeeze shut, a deep rumble reverberating from his chest.
I look away, knowing what he’s feeling. My wet, needy,backstabbingcunt. I have never been more ashamed in my life. Tears prick at my eyes.
“Oh baby, I may be crazy, but so are you. Your pussy isweepingfor me.” The sick glee of victory in his voice makes me burn. His head dips to kiss me.
Right before his lips brush against mine, I shove him back as hard as I can and hop off the table. My legs are shaky, but I refuse to waver and race to the door. Not being able to stand one more second sharing air with this…this…monster.
“Thursday at eight work for you?” I can hear the amusement in his voice.
“Fuck you, Cash.” I don’t look over my shoulder as I shout back.
I don’t want him to see my tears.
Cash
Koslov.
And atmytable no less. I am seething when I approach him. The only reason I don’t shoot him on the spot is that I don't know if any of his cronies are nearby, and I don’t want her in the crosshairs.
“You better have a goddamn good reason for being here,comrade.”He looks like he wants to rip my head off and piss on my corpse. He growls low and deep. “You better start talking.”
I’m genuinely curious what he’s going to say. The Bratva is a fucking thorn in our side, but they stay out of our way most of the time, and in turn, weallowthem to operate on our territory. We’re not in the drug trade anyway, so there shouldn’t be much to fight about.
Until someone decides to step over the line.
Like showing up at my headquarters without requesting a meet.
“We wanted to give the courtesy of telling you to watch back because we are coming.” He leans forward and snarls, the evidence of his native tongue thick. “You kill our princess, we burn entire fucking kingdom.”
“You’ve lost your goddamn mind, Koslov. Going after your people isn’t even worth my time. Unless you give me a reason.” I palm the table and shove my index finger in his face. “You better think twice before you come in here, to my fucking place of business, and start throwing bullshit accusations around—”
His hand shoots out and grabs my wrist, waving the tattooed skin in front of me. “You think you only one with sources in police, huh?”This about that stripper?Did hissourcestell him I also have an ironclad alibi?
I’ve had enough of this shit. I point at the door. “Get the fuck out of here before you start a war you can’t possibly win.”
As I watch his giant, lumbering form exit, my mind is reeling. And instead of being able to hear the thoughts flying around my head, all I hear is obnoxious chatter, cutlery scratching against plates, and the low thrum of music from the speakers.
“Place is closed. Get out. If you haven’t paid, dinner’s on the house. Now, go.” I dig the heels of my palms into my eyes, trying to sort out this mess.
Someone is framing me.
Someone is killing my people and trying to make me take the fall for it.
The stripper from my gentleman’s lounge. The bartender from my nightclub.I can’t remember the other two victims off the top of my head, but I’m sure if I did some digging there’d be a connection. To me.
I just need some time to fuckingthink.
“Hey, wait.” A soft hand wraps around my wrist. “Who was that?”She’s touching me.Those damn butterflies line my stomach, and my skin heats where she’s holding it.What was I even thinking about?My mind is wiped clean at the smallest contact.Oh right, being framed for serial murders and the Bratva wanting my head on a stick.
“Russian trash.” She drops my arm, and the little peace her touch offered pops.
