Maxim
Tied to the towel rail, stretched out along the cold tiles, the woman I loved was at my mercy. Elizabeth drove me to things I never thought I wanted. But I always wanted her. In so many ways.
She knew how to drive me crazy, how to forget myself and everything I was supposed to be doing. It wasn’t hard, when she was meant to be my universe.
Her thighs wrapped around my sides as I arched over her, and my cock pressed in against her wet, waiting body, slick with her juices and swollen and ready to take me in. The groan she let out as I pushed inside her made me light up all the way through and I had to steady myself, breathing deep, to stop myself from coming right then and there.
She was my everything. And I wanted to show her that.
Kidnap and torture. I’d done that a thousand times. But not like this.
I knew just what to do with her.
Where she expected me to pound into her, I steeled myself to push in slowly, millimeter by millimeter, filling her up with every inch of me until I was hilt deep and she was panting, squirming, trying to get me to move. My determination to go slow faltered when she angled her hips in a way that made me see stars. I let out a groan, forcing her hips back flat against the floor, pinning her more thoroughly and Elizabeth’s hands strained against the restraints I’d tied.
“Don’t you bloody dare.”
“Oh God Maxim, please.”
Just as slowly, I inched out, until only the head of my cock was still inside her and she writhed and whimpered, trying to buck against my hands holding her steady. Her greedy little cunt was flickering around me like she was trying to draw me back inside.
Up on my arms, body held proudly over hers, I could watch every expression on her face as I pushed in slow enough to make her whimper. She arched her neck back as I drifted my hand down between us, rubbing slowly against her clit as I got myself balls deep. Her breathing was slow and lazy, and finally I could see her starting to give in and come apart.
“You’re beautiful,” I purred, voice rumbling low as I tongued her earlobe, and her breathing rushed out, hot and desperate. Blindfolded and bound, everything was at my mercy, at my say so.
CHAPTER 32
Elizabeth
This time Maxim said he couldn’t wire me up. There was too much security going into the bank and the last thing we wanted was to raise any suspicions about our motives. We needed Jean Alaman to trust that I was a genuine client. At least at first. Just so that I could get in the door.
I didn’t know what Maxim did, or got Valentin’s people to do, but one minute there were no appointments with the man for the next two weeks and the next I had a meeting booked at four.
As the day went on, I felt the nerves building to the point where I felt queasy. I thought I was going to bring my continental breakfast right back up, and the smell of the coffee turned my stomach.
We strolled through the city, trying to find a distraction in the beautiful old buildings and cafes sprawling people out onto the streets trying to walk the nerves off.
If we’d been on holiday, I would have loved it. The place was so picturesque, with snow capped mountains in the distance, the lake stretching out long in front. It seemed like an ideal place, except for the cost of things. I was glad that the Bratva was footing the bill. I still didn’t understand how the expenses worked and none of that was going to matter unless I managed to convince this man to join us.
A lot was hanging on this. If I failed to persuade him, not only did I risk Valentin deciding that I was more risk than I was worth, but I also knew what would happen next. One way or the other we were here to close down the possibility of the list of the London property owners coming out into the open. If I didn’t manage it with my methods, Maxim was here to manage it the old school way and the man’s death would be on my head. Whether or not the Swiss authorities would give him a wrist slap, or a prison sentence, we couldn’t risk him leaking what he knew to anybody else before he went down.
The Bratva wanted to keep their assets secure, and the Kremlin couldn’t afford to be embarrassed by the dealings of their close associates. There had to be no paper trail, and I understood that now. The world Maxim lived in, the world that Valentin and Roman seemed to orchestrate became precarious when there were holes in the defences, and Jean Alaman had been picking a hole.