Authors: Helena Newbury
Tags: #Russian Mafia Romance, #Romantic Suspense, #new adult romance
I got the scope back up to my eye just as she unfastened her bra. I caught my breath as her breasts swayed free. Her nipples were so pale, so delicate. And her breasts were larger than I’d pictured them: full and heavy. I could almost feel them under my hands, warm and soft, the nipples rising to attention as I pushed her back on the bed….
My cock was rising and swelling against my thigh. I didn’t move. I barely dared to breathe. There was no way she could see me, but it felt like I was right there in the room with her, and any noise might startle her away.
She bent a little and I had to suppress a groan at the way her breasts bobbed and swayed. She hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her leggings and started to push them down her legs. God, she was going to strip off completely, right in front of the window. And why wouldn’t she? She was ten floors up, well out of view of the street, and the only thing across the street was an abandoned building.
Again, that little pang of guilt. And again I crushed it down.
The black leggings rolled slowly down her legs, which were just as pale and finely shaped as her breasts. I could imagine my hands following the fabric: down over the curve of her ass, tracing the shape of her thighs, all the way down to her calves. And then back up, this time on the inside….
When the leggings were a thick black figure eight of fabric around her ankles, she kicked them off. Then she bent again, stripping off her panties—
I leaned forward.
I got just a glimpse of dark brown hair and then she was turning and walking away, her heart-shaped ass towards me. She went into the bathroom and closed the door behind her.
I lowered the sniper scope. My cock was harder than it’d ever been.
I needed to see her, needed to talk to her...I was getting obsessed with this girl.
But as soon as her boyfriend got home, I was going to have to go over there and destroy her life.
I turned the spray up high and hot and then climbed in. Showers are one of life’s underrated pleasures. Mine have been known to go on for a half hour or more.
I started out with good intentions. I washed my hair and soaped myself up with strawberry-scented soap. And then….
And then I started to get distracted.
Maybe it was because of the window. Sometimes, if I’m in a certain sort of mood, I’ll undress with the blinds open, right in front of the window. I mean, it’s not like anyone can actually see me or anything, but it
daring. I do it and I imagine I’m teasing a lover, that he’s standing right there in the room, looking but not allowed to touch, and he’s finding it more and more difficult to hold back.
A lover like
The guy in the coffee shop with the black suit and the muscles who’d—I swallowed—caught my wrist. There was something about the way he’d held me, the fact that it was just
no effort at all
to keep me captured. It made me go a little weak. It felt as if he could have just hoisted me into the air, one-handed, and dangled me there while he kissed me.
I was sort of pressing my thighs together, now.
Kissed me with
lips. A little scrape from his stubble, then the hot softness of his lips meeting mine. He’d twist me sideways, encouraging me to open, and I would. His tongue would slip into my mouth, taking possession of me. He’d pull me closer and I’d feel the silk of his tie against my naked breasts. Closer still and my wet breasts would pillow against his shirt, soaking it through.
In my head, he was right with me, in the shower. Those big hands cupped my cheeks, taking total control of me, and then swept through my wet hair, tangling in it. He kissed me again and again, mouth open, both of us panting as he explored me: my upper lip, my lower lip, the line of my jaw. He laid a trail of hot kisses and each one left the skin aching to be touched again.
His hands slid around my bare shoulders and started to move down my back. God, they were so big—it felt as if they were completely covering me. And his fingers were so strong...he played piano scales down my back and then, as they reached the cheeks of my ass, he squeezed me hard, making me gasp. He started to alternate: first smoothing his hands over my gleaming, wet ass, enjoying its shape, then kneading it hard. I began to move my hips in response, grinding my thighs together in time.
He pulled me even tighter against him, my bare feet squeaking on the tiles. My groin mashed against his and, for the first time, I could feel the shape of him pressing against my thigh. Hot and hard and
and God, he was hard for
I was so close, now, that I had to tilt my head way back to be able to kiss him, my back arching. He ran his hands down the length of my back, following the curve of me again and again. Then, suddenly, he grabbed my hips and slammed me against the wall.
The tiles were cold for an instant and I cried out. But then his mouth was on me again and, as the heat of my wet body began to soak into the tiles, I relaxed. He filled his hands with my breasts and they felt
there. My boobs are on the big side but they matched his hands just perfectly and he knew just the right way to squeeze and rub, his thumbs making slow circles around the nipples, teasing me until I writhed and twisted. Only then did he work his way inward, stroking at the nipples themselves, breaking the kiss so that he could look down and see the effect he was having on me. We both watched as my nipples hardened under his touch. Through his soaked pants, I could feel his cock growing even harder against my leg.
I slipped my hands under his suit jacket and started to slide them over his pecs. His white shirt was plastered to him and I could see every line and detail of him through the translucent fabric, even his dark pink, dime-sized nipples. But it was the feel of him that was the biggest turn on. He felt as if he was carved from rock—throbbing and hot but just so solid, so
My hands went lower, molding the shirt to each ridge and valley of his abs. I wasn’t normally so aggressive, even in my fantasies, but touching him was addictive. My fingertips toyed with his belt...and then my hands plunged lower, down into his pants, the soaked fabric tight against the backs of my hands, until I felt the throbbing root of his cock.
The instant I touched it, he caught his breath and gazed down at me with a new intensity. Suddenly, my wrists were captured and hauled upward, right up above my head, and he pinned them to the tiles with just one of those big hands, hard as an iron band.
The look he gave me said it all:
liked to be in control
He moved back for a second and, when I opened my eyes, I was staring right into those icy gray orbs. Again, I saw just that hint of blue, lust and maybe something more overpowering the darkness. But it didn’t change the message those eyes sent: I was his.
He lowered his head and started to kiss down my neck, his stubble rasping lightly on the sensitive skin there, making me twist and gasp. I was burning up inside, the heat swelling and building, and every kiss soaked into me and added its heat to the fire. With my back against the wall, I was out of the main spray, but I had absolutely no chance of being cold. I wasn’t sure I was ever going to feel cold again.
The water from the shower was thundering down on his head, streaming down over his face and hitting me, mixing with his kisses as he worked his way along my collarbone. Soft kisses, but possessive. He licked the water from the little hollow above my collarbone and I moaned. Then he lowered his head, pressing hard against me and—
I gasped and tensed as he bit my shoulder. Not hard enough to hurt, just hard enough to make me squirm. It was a lesson—that he could so easily hurt me, but he wouldn’t.
And then he moved down to my breasts.
At the first touch of his lips against the soft skin, I pulled on my wrists. It wasn’t that I wanted him to stop—just that I wanted to touch him, to run my hands down his back and feel his ass, to respond in some way.
My wrists moved all of a millimeter. Then he pressed them back, hard, against the tiles.
That did something to me. An unfamiliar, crackling dark heat that went straight down to my groin, like thick black oil shot through with lightning. I twisted my wrists. I knew they wouldn’t move, and they didn’t.
But it felt good.
I cried out as his tongue, hot and slick, lapped at my nipple. Water was cascading down off his forehead, bathing my breasts, and as he licked it was a non-stop mix of sensations: hot water, then a break of cool air as he blocked the water, then the quick, heated lash of his tongue against my aching flesh, then back to the water.
The pleasure built and built. Unable to do anything with my hands, I had to settle for crushing my thighs together harder and harder. The energy was pulsing and swelling inside me, getting ready to explode, and I had...to...contain...it….
He opened his mouth wide and took my breast into his mouth, enveloping nipple and soft flesh, and I went crazy, gasping and shaking, grinding myself against the wall. His tongue was pushing hard into the softness, drawing circles and then darting to flick across my nipple. His free hand started to work at my other breast and the pleasure expanded out of control.
I needed him inside me. My face was hot with how badly I wanted it. I jerked my wrists against his hand again but he held me fast. We were going to go at
pace and I had no say in the matter...other than to jerk my groin towards him to show him where I ached.
He responded. He lifted his head from my breast and looked into my eyes as his free hand slid down my stomach, interrupting the glossy sheen of moving water. It slid all the way down to my thighs, gliding over skin. Then inward.
God.... He was going to use his fingers on me there, tease me...that was too much, I needed
needed him inside me—
I crossed my legs, one over the other.
He slid his hand between them like a blade and forced them open—
so easily. Enough for him to slip a knee between them and then I was held open and defenseless. And I was hotly aware that part of me
to be defenseless, that the sensation of him opening me up was far and away the hottest thing I’d ever experienced. I was aware that I was twisting and squirming but not actually saying
And then his hand cupped me, hard fingers gliding over my lips, and I could feel how slickly wet I was. His fingers stroked
, rocking as much as rubbing, and little earthquakes of pleasure rippled out from my groin with every movement. I bit my lower lip, eyes tight closed, my breath coming as quick little gasps. I could feel the way I was opening to him, even though he was applying no pressure at all. My body was inviting him in.
He leaned towards me again, the hard buttons of his shirt pressing into my chest, a reminder that he was still fully clothed. I pushed with my wrists again but I was still trapped, helpless to resist as his mouth met mine, his tongue tracing the join of my lips and then plunging in as I opened. I groaned into his mouth as his thick finger parted the folds of my sex and slid up into me. And then I was thrusting back against him with my hips, shamelessly urging him on.
I was slippery tight around him and he pushed deep—
those big hands, knobbly perfection.... I broke the kiss, sucking in breath—
And then he was pumping into me and my legs were instinctively bending at the knees, even though that meant taking my weight on my arms. He helped me, pressing his hips hard against mine to support me. I lifted my feet right off the floor, opening my knees wide for him and pressing the soles of my feet together, my toes wriggling against one another.
His hand pressed right up against me, his finger buried in me and his palm flat against my groin. He started to rock it against me and I could feel how wet I was, the lips engorged with blood, my clit throbbing and aching. He fucked me like that with his finger, palm grinding against my clit, and I gave myself up to it, getting wetter and wetter, hotter and hotter, the pleasure expanding to fill every part of me. The water was still rolling down his body and streaming onto mine, turning us both into shining statues, his tanned body between my pale thighs. His hand moved faster and faster, an insistent rhythm I couldn’t fight and didn’t want to. My legs drew up even further, my heels rubbing and circling—