Page 73 of Alexei (Belles & Mobsters 4)

“Shit, sorry,” she muttered, her palms pressing against my back. For the briefest moment, I marveled at the warmth of her touch. I never particularly cared for a woman’s touch, yet somehow I craved hers.

I slowly turned around, coming face-to-face with her, and her hands fell down to her sides.

“Shut the door,” I ordered her.

She did it without protest. I watched her back, her red dress hugging her curves. She had the most magnificent, sweetest ass I had ever seen. Round and perfect. I wanted to grab a handful of it and squeeze it, bend her over and pound into her. Again and again. But it was two in the morning and Aurora looked tired.

I should have known from the moment I spotted her in the elevator, she’d become my prey. My craving. The pull was instant. The innocent FBI agent had no idea what was coming her way.

Guilt clawed at me for not being upfront with her. Especially when she obeyed without questioning me. The club was just the beginning, the easiest piece.

She returned back to stand in front of me, her eyes surveying the bathroom. She was checking for cameras.

“Bathrooms are not wired,” I told her, placing down my duffle bag onto the large marble counter.

“How do you know?” she whispered, leaning an inch closer toward me.

Her eyes locked on me, waiting. For what, I didn’t know. Reassurances and words weren’t my thing.

When I didn’t answer, she sighed.

“Fine. I agree with you; I don't see any cameras here. So now what? Want to sleep in the bathroom?” She wrinkled her nose, her eyes darting around the room. “It will be uncomfortable as fuck.”

“No sleeping in the bathroom. The expectation is that club activities will continue.”

Her head whipped around.

“W-what?” she stammered, her eyes widening. “More sex?” I nodded. “Whose expectation?”

She didn’t sound happy about it. Not that I could blame her. It wasn’t like I had much to offer her in that department. I wanted to fuck her tied up and gagged. On all fours, her ass up in the air and face down. It wasn’t hard core BDSM. That was more up Sasha’s alley, but my methods were a far cry from lovemaking.

My experience twisted me into one fucked up being.

“Don’t stress about it,” I told her before I gave into my more carnal urges and fucked her right here against the cold tile.

“What?” she hissed. “You can’t drop a bomb like this and then say‘don’t stress about it’.” She pushed her hand into her hair. “I won’t be able to sleep after hearing something like that. Man, this is fucking bullshit,” she muttered. “I’m all for busting this guy, but I never signed up for whoring myself. And to top it all off, being watched while being fucked.” Her fingers tugged on her silky strands.

My eyes traveled down her curves and my cock throbbed. I fucked her mere hours ago, and I was hard for her already, my dick straining against my zipper. I could fuck her all night and all day, and still not have enough.

“Fine,” she exhaled, a string of curses slipping through her pouty red lips. “I seriously need a raise for this shit. But since we got this far, we might as well go all the way.” She reached to her side, struggling with the zipper. “This field work is not all it’s cracked up to be,” she muttered. “But here I am, taking my clothes off.” Then as if she worried I’d pounce on her, she added, “I’m just taking the damn dress off. I can’t wear it for another second. Next time, get me something loose. I hate tight clothes.”

She yanked on the zipper, left and right. Up and down. It wouldn’t budge and with each passing second, she became more agitated with it. And all the while, she muttered to herself.

“Let me help you.” I reached for the zipper, covering her hand, and she instantly stilled. Her eyes zeroed in on my hand, and I watched her graceful neck bob as she swallowed. My cock throbbed harder.

The impact this woman had on me. I should have squashed it. Killed it. Instead, I let it fester, and now, she was a full-blown obsession. My cock nor my heart no longer cared what was good for her nor me. It just wanted her.

She slowly pulled her hand from beneath mine, then lifted it above her head to allow me to unzip her. Another tiny bit of trust. I didn’t deserve it.

It would shatter. Very soon.

The sound of the zipper cracked the silence in the bathroom. She let the dress slide down her body, leaving her only in her lacy panties. The red dress pooled around her ankles, baring her sun-kissed skin. She was so beautiful; it actually hurt to look at her. Though I didn’t think it was her outer beauty that appealed to me. It was her soul.

Despite the shitty way I treated her at the club, she still worried whether I was okay. That caring little girl from the zoo was still there. And as she slipped her hand into mine, just as she had twenty years ago, I mourned the impending loss.

There wasn’t a single ounce of doubt that she’d walk away from me once she learned the truth. If she didn’t kill me first.

We faced each other, her eyes locked on me. Wide and innocent. Guarded and trusting at the same time. She didn’t cower; she didn’t look away in embarrassment.

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