Page 16 of For a Price

He slowly slips his finger in and out of me before moving onto my clit. He tweaks the little swollen bundle of nerves and makes me cry out from behind the duct tape sealed over my lips. The pinch sensation quickly blends into the pleasure building.

I’m a goner as he experiments with my pussy. He slides the wide base of his palm back and forth along my pussy, creating adelicious warm friction that has my hips moving and makes me hump his hand.

He pushes a second finger into me, curling both digits and watching as another cry breaks from my throat.

The final straw is the rough pad of his thumb rubbing circles into my clit. The orgasm that’s been rising through me like a rocket finally blasts off. An eruption of tingles shoots through my body, born in my sensitive pussy, spreading to the rest of me.

He rips the duct tape off in time for my cry of pleasure. His fingers remain deeply entrenched inside me as my pussy pulsates and I’m lost to bliss for several seconds.

“Krasivyy?*,” he whispers.

It’s a while before I come down enough to realize he still hasn’t stopped staring at my face.

I’m panting looking back up at him, hot and flustered. Distantly, I’m aware he’s given me the strongest orgasm I’ve had… in a very, very long time.

Neither of us get a chance to say another word to each other.

A loud boom rings out from the front of the apartment. It’s the door busting open and the stampede-like pounding of half a dozen sets of footsteps.

“POLICE! Everyone on the ground!”

* Ty vyglyadish’ krasivo, devochka -you look beautiful, girl

* Oni plokho podgotovleny. Oni trusy, kotoryye ostavili etu devushku v pokoye. Ona nichto. Nikakoy ugrozy. -They are ill prepared. They are cowards who left this girl alone. She is nothing. No threat.

* Niet -No

* Derzhis’, otets. -hold on, father

* Krasivyy -beautiful

CHAPTER 8

Katerina

ONE WEEK LATER…

“Earth to Kat? Hello!”Rosita snaps her fingers in front of my eyes. “You good, girl?”

I blink out of my daydream and find myself curled up in Rosita’s neon orange bean bag chair. The cramped room reeks of egg, the air hazy and stuffy despite the three fans she has going. She’s standing in front of the mirror as she runs her flat iron across her hair a few times, making sure the keratin treatment has taken.

I rub a hand over my face with a sigh. “I’m good… just distracted.”

“This about what happened the other day with JC and them?” Rosita asks.

“I can’t believe it went down the way it did.”

“Kat, how many times have I told you? The crowds you run with are no good. My ma always says, no se puede confiar en los ladrones?*.”

“Thieves can’t be trusted?”

She nods at me in the mirror, half her head of hair pin-straight while the rest resembles the straw on a broom.

“I wish I had a translator for Russian. He said so many things I didn’t understand.”

“The man you were tricking on?”

“I wasn’ttrickingon him. It was a kidnapping scheme.”

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