Page 13 of Lethal Legacy

“You’re so wet I can feel it.” There’s a faint catch in his voice, a crack in the perfect composure. I feel a dark rush of satisfaction. I start to undulate my hips on his hand, riding it as hard as he’ll let me, thrusting my nipple between his fingers.

He allows this for a few moments. My undulations become a bucking urgency, and I feel the slow, delicious creep start spiraling in my belly.

Then he takes his hand away—and I actually do scream.

He whips his hand over my mouth to muffle it. “Stay silent,” he growls.

I make a noise against his mouth.

“If you scream,” he says against my ear, “I can’t give you want you want. What you need, Miss Lopez. And youdoneed it, don’t you?”

I nod frantically against his hand, helpless to deny it. Even if I wanted to, my body would make a fool of me. My breasts are spilled lewdly over my T-shirt and bra, swollen nipples thrusting toward Roman’s tantalizingly out-of-reach mouth, and I’m so wet and aching even the seam of my shorts is about to make me come.

“Remember,” he murmurs, drawing my zipper down frustratingly slowly. “Don’t scream, or I’ll stop.” He slips his hand inside my underwear.

Fuuuuuuuuuuuck.

His warning was useless. If he hadn’t clamped his hand over my mouth again, I’d have howled the building down. It means my breasts are left without his fingers, but given the way he’s now manipulating my swollen pussy, it doesn’t matter.

“I did warn you I’d stop if you screamed. Should I stop, Miss Lopez?” His low voice against my ear is as ruthless as the steady stroking of his fingers, driving me relentlessly toward the place I need to get to, more urgently than I can ever remember before.

Nooooooo!I scream into his hand.

He slips one finger inside me, then two. “Christ, you’re wet,” he mutters. The huge, swollen length of him twitches against my ass. His fingers hit the spot inside me that needs them, and I start bucking in earnest against his palm.

“Touch your nipples,” he murmurs in my ear. “You know you need to.”

As if compelled by his voice, my hands rise to my breasts. “Show me,” he murmurs, and so I do.

He makes a rough sound low in his throat, and that’s the moment I can feel it starting, the slow tidal wave of the most intense, all-consuming, body-shaking orgasm of my life.

As the first ripples hit, he turns my head and captures my mouth with his own, drowning my scream with his perfect lips.

4

ROMAN

“Aporn site?”

I glare around the table, trying to ignore the fact that even the wordpornconjures up images of Lucia Lopez, wet and aching under my hand. Three days after our encounter in my office, the slightest thought of her still makes me hard as an iron bar.

I push the dangerous images aside and channel my energy into glaring at the faces around the table in front of me.

“It’s not a big deal,” Pavel says, “just something the kid used to run a test. We’ll make sure he hasn’t left any trace.” My head of software development rattles away on his laptop screen with one hand while turning one of those fidget spinner things in the other. Calling someone elsekidis ironic, given that Pavel is only a few years out of his teens himself. He has thick glasses, a dark beard decorated with pizza crumbs of several varieties, and an ever-present giant cup of soda on the table next to him. He spends fifteen hours a day wired into the lab, which is what we call the operations room of our server center, surrounded by acres of blinking lights and low-humming machines that have cost the economy of a small country to set up. He heads up a handpicked army of hackers and tech heads drawn from across the globe.

The tech heads are all brilliant. They also piss me right off.

“Pavel.” I spin his chair around and whip the fidget spinner out of his hand. “Amuse me. What, exactly, is Mercura?”

The man looks around nervously at his fellow geeks, all of whom are busy staring at the ceiling, and pushes his glasses up his nose. Pavel has worked on my flagship concept since he was a teenager. If anyone understands Mercura, it’s him. He just doesn’t understand what I’m trying to get him to say right now.

“Mercura is, um, an untraceable cryptocurrency. Faster than the Flash.” He smiles weakly at whatever comic book reference I’ve just missed.

“Funny, Pavel.” I’m not laughing, and his smile fades. “Why don’t you explain what cryptocurrency is?”

Given that the people sitting at this table virtually invented it, Pavel looks around to see who I expect him to explain it to. When I don’t move, he begins to stammer. “It’s a digital form of currency.”

“Glad you’ve read the manual. And why is Mercura untraceable?”

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