Page 120 of Emerald Vices

“Why the hell not?”

“Because…” I look around. This street appears deserted, but that doesn’t mean it’ll stay that way. “We’re out in the open! Anyone who passes by will be able to see us.”

His fingers drift up my thighs and push aside my panties. “Then let’s give them a show.”

“Let’s just wait.” I try to push him away even as I grind myself against his cock. “When we get home, we can?—”

“I’ve waited long enough, lastochka,” he growls, nipping at my ear as his fingers slip inside me. “I’m done waiting.”

I stop caring about passersby around the same time I plant my palms on the roof of the car and roll myself onto Andrey’s fingers. Dr. Abdulov and the Pope himself could be in the backseat, and I wouldn’t be able to stop.

He circles his thumb over my center, and I cry out. It’s embarrassing how close I already am. How much I’ve been waiting for this.

But Andrey doesn’t seem to mind. His lips brush against the shell of my ear. “I’ve missed the way you respond to me.”

He strokes his fingers out and back in, and I arch my back until my shoulder blades hit the horn. I’m only vaguely aware of the sound. It’s nothing more than white noise to me now.

I’m too consumed with Andrey—his intense eyes, his perfect lips.

I scramble to unbutton his pants, and if there was any doubt about his attraction to me, it’s gone the second he springs free. When I wrap my hand around his length, he growls. He’s strung so tight that he can barely move as I press him to my entrance and slide down, down, down.

We sink together with a mutual sigh of relief, and I press my forehead to his. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’m right here, lastochka.” He folds his fingers through mine, wrapping our arms around my lower back so he can work into me deeper. “I’ll always be right here.”

We move together until the car is rocking back and forth. Until our panting fogs the windows.

“How could you have any doubt that I wanted you, baby?” Andrey snarls as he slams into me from below. “This is what I want. You and me, always…”

The orgasm robs me of an answer. For a long time, all I can do is moan and give into it. Until, finally, it sets me back down, breathless and sweaty and spent.

“This is what I want, too,” I whisper to him. “Always.”

51

ANDREY

Leonty fills the screen of the video call at a low angle, giving me a view of his chin and straight up his nostrils.

“Where’s Mila?” I ask.

“I’ve got eyes on her.” Leonty twists the phone around so that I can see Mila’s silhouette through the glass windows. “She’s sorting out the gift for Nat. Apparently, I have horrible taste and my suggestions weren’t helpful, so I’ve been relegated to idling in the car along the curb.”

“Have you spotted any suspicious activity?”

“It’s New York,” Leonty retorts. “Everyone here looks suspicious.”

There are times when I admire my cousin’s lighthearted, easygoing nature. There are times when I do not.

“Are you sure she’s okay in there alone?”

“If I didn’t think she was, I’d be in there with her.” He sighs. “I’ve been a bit overprotective this week because of Viktor’s hit out on her. She says I need to give her space, so that’s what I’m trying to do.”

“Give her space when she’s back in the manor,” I reply. “Not when you’re out in the open.”

“Don’t let Mila hear you or she’ll gripe at you about being overprotective, too.” He runs a hand through his stubble. Ironically, it only makes him look more boyish. “Ah, here she comes.”

Instead of getting into the passenger seat, Mila stops outside Leonty’s door and pokes her head into the window to share the screen.

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