My hand goes to the back of her neck and she actually sags slightly, silently submitting to me. In this moment, she’s placed her trust in me. She has faith I will give her what she needs, and I won’t hurt her in the process.
She stares unblinkingly, her mouth slightly parted to give me the access I need.
If Anatoly were standing here right now, he’d remark how easy it would be to just tighten my hand around her neck. I could easily strangle her one-handed because she’s so fairy-like, but two would get the job done quicker. She’d never be able to withstand my size and strength. I could put her down quickly and quietly, giving Anatoly whatever peace he thinks only her death can bring.
From there, it would be easy enough to get her in the trunk of the rental in the black of the night. Drive eleven miles west to the Ohio River, attach a few cement blocks to her body, and toss her over a bridge.
It would be the best move. Giving Anatoly what he wants keeps me safe. If I fail to ultimately deliver her death to him, it will assuredly mean my death. He has no room for error, mistakes, or disloyalty. I could effectively end it all right now and stay on my boss’s good side, which means I continue to lead a healthy life.
Except that doesn’t seem to matter that much to me in this moment, with Bebe all soft and pliant before me.
I dip my head as I squeeze the nape of her neck, bringing my mouth to hers. Her breath flutters over my tongue, and she gives a tiny, almost imperceptible moan that almost drives me to my knees. Bebe is so hungry for intimate contact, and I can feel her practically vibrating.
Her fingers tighten into my shirt, and she tries to tug me closer. I place my free hand on her lower back, pulling her in tight. She gasps, feeling my erection, which started forming the minute she asked me to kiss her.
When I slide my tongue into her mouth, her response is a groan so guttural she sounds like she’s in pain. But it’s not really something that hurts. It might just be that the pleasure causes such overwhelming sensations it could be considered painful.
Regardless, her response is like a punch to the gut, and my kiss turns more invasive. Bebe doesn’t shrink away, but rather it feels like she’s trying to meld with me as her tongue duels alongside mine. Her arms move around my neck, her tiny body plastering against mine. She feels way too fucking good.
Tearing her lips free of mine, Bebe glances up with a pleading expression. “I need…”
She averts her eyes, and I move my hand from the back of her neck to her chin. I force her to give me her attention. “What do you need?”
I don’t get a response at first, but then a long-suffering sigh comes out. “I need to be touched. It’s been so long, Griff.”
She has no idea I know how long it’s been—assuming she’s not been with anyone since she got out of prison six months ago. And while I don’t owe her a damn thing, I feel like my only goal in life is to give her exactly what she needs.
“Hold tight,” I rumble just before I kiss her again. I briefly feel her mouth move into a smile against mine, then I have her tongue again.
I waste no time. Gliding my fingers down the side of her neck, I ever so lightly continue over her chest and along the side of her breast. She presses into me, but I let my hand drift lower, over her stomach and to the button of her jeans. It pops open easily, and her breath catches as I lower the zipper.
Pausing, I pull my lips away and stare down. She has her eyes squeezed shut, a pained expression on her face.
“Are you sure?” I ask. Her eyes flutter until she’s staring at me with so much earnest anticipation, I feel absolutely unworthy of her.
She nods, her teeth sinking into her lower lip. She’s not intentionally trying to be sexy, but fuck if my cock doesn’t start thumping in response.
Her hands press into my shoulders, and she goes to her tiptoes in an attempt to reengage our stellar fucking kiss. My fingers inch into the waistband of her panties, over her smooth stomach, and down into the dark recesses below. Bebe jerks as my fingers brush through her soft curls, right into her wetness.
She growls, the sound so deep and needy I can only respond by pressing a single finger deep into her. Bebe jerks, cries out, and pulls her mouth away from mine only to bury her face into my chest. She writhes against me. For a moment, I do nothing but let her ride my finger, fascinated by the need driving her body to react. I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s fucking beautiful.