It spatters over my face and blouse like rain. Georgios screams in pain and falls back. Damir is up on his feet in an instant. The man, sensing it’s over, scrambles up and flees, stumbling as he goes, dripping blood.
Rather than giving chase, Damir lifts the receiver and punches a number with one bloody finger. His eyebrows drawn tightly together, he speaks quickly. “Lock the building down. No one gets in or out. There’s a man on the loose covered in blood. Find him,” he snarls, and slams the phone down.
The knife is clenched tightly in his grip and his chest is heaving. He stares out the window. I think he’s forgotten I’m there.
I sit up, wincing in pain from my sore elbow. Damir shifts on his feet and looks down at me. We stare at each other.
There’s murder in his eyes.
He reaches for me, and I utter a high shriek and shrink away.
“Calm down.” He sounds angry but is not as murderous as he looked a second ago. He pulls me to my feet and tosses the bloody knife on his desk. “Are you hurt?”
I shake my head, though I can’t really tell.
Damir puts his hands on my skull and pushes my hair back from my face. “Did you hit your head?”
The smell of blood and violence is all over him. I feel high. It must be the shock. The world feels spongey beneath my feet. So I don’t lose my balance, I put my hands up and clench my fingers on Damir’s biceps. I wonder if I’m going to faint, but I don’t feel light-headed. Just like I’m burning up.
Damir palms my cheek with his large hands and slides them into my hair. Hands that just moments ago were beating that man to a pulp. “Are you sure?” he murmurs. “You’ve got blood all over your face.” His thumb slides across my lips, and they part with a moan. I don’t understand what’s happening to me. I don’t feel this way with a man. I never feel this way.
Damir freezes, and his gaze shifts from searching for injuries to my eyes. His gaze bores into mine.
“Bethany?” he murmurs, almost in surprise.
My lips are parted and I’m breathing lightly. As I stare at him, I feel the world sliding out of my control, but in a really, really good way. I want it to take me. I look at his mouth, and see that his lips are parted, too, and very close to mine.
Slowly, deliberately, Damir’s hands slide around my waist and he pulls me against him. Stars shimmer through my body and pool between my legs. I shudder against his hard torso, sucking in a breath. Amid the wreckage of broken glass, scattered paper and blood, something is happening. A man is touching me, and instead of feeling nothing like I usually do, a whole universe is opening up before me. Damir is gazing at me intently, as if he can’t believe what’s happening, either. He slides a bold hand down my belly, over my sex to the hem of my skirt. Then he travels up the inside of my bare leg. My breath comes faster—and then stops all together as two of his fingers slide firmly along my sex over my underwear. My very wet underwear.
Damir’s lips part in shock. And then curve in pleasure. I need to pull myself out of his arms. One of us needs to call the police and we both need to wash all this blood off.
But I can’t make myself let go of him.
Damir turns me around so that my back is against his chest. One of his hands lightly cups my throat, tilting my head to one side so that his lips are just grazing my ear. I look out across London as his fingers slip easily into my underwear and he strokes my slippery sex. Expertly, he rolls the pad of his finger over my clit. I’m so fired up that I can feel my climax barreling down on me like an out of control semi-trailer. Stronger than it feels when I do it. Better than it feels like when I do it. My hands reach back for something to hold onto and I grasp his hips. I’ve barely got time to gulp down a breath before I’m coming, my body flexing in his tight grip.
“Pridna puncka,” he breathes.
I open my eyes and look up at Damir, taking short, panting breaths. From this perspective his face is all fierce angles. Floating in the afterglow, I don’t want to question why this is happening. I just want to feel his arms tight around me. Smell the sharp aphrodisiac of blood scenting the air.
“Who was that man?” I whisper.
“An old friend. Want me to kill him for you, baby?”
I gaze into his metallic eyes, knowing the right answer is no. But that’s not what passes over my lips. “You would do that for me?”
“Nobody’s allowed to frighten you.” His teeth delicately graze my ear. “Nobody but me.”
The threat colors his words blood red, but they only make me want him more. I gasp softly in his arms and grind my ass against his cock. Mr. Ravnikar groans, pressing his face into my neck. “Such a good girl.”
He delves deeper, one thick finger invading me by an inch. It’s eluded me for years, this attraction to a flesh and blood man. Damir pulls out and reaches for something. A moment later the bloody knife appears before my eyes. He twists it slowly, and it sparkles silver and red in the sunlight.
“Your blood would look so pretty,” he murmurs in my ear. “Little cuts on the inside of your thighs. Six on the left, and six on the right. Spreading you open to watch the blood run down your legs and into your pussy while I fuck you harder than you’ve ever been fucked before.”
Fear and arousal impale me through the chest. That. I want that. I need that. My arm curves up to cup the back of his neck, and I scratch my nails through his short hair.
“Too bad this knife is dirty with that kreten’s blood.” He tosses it aside and his fingers delve back into my pussy. I lean my weight against him, my body going liquid and my eyes closing as sensation takes over. He rubs my clit in firm circles, his breathing and touch the only things I’m aware of. That, and his hard cock pressing into my ass. He makes me come again, and then again, barely letting me catch my breath between climaxes. All the while he’s saying things in Slovenian that I don’t understand.
Then he whispers in English. “Where have you been, princesa? I’ve been looking for you.”