“Uh, thirty minutes,” he groans, helping me with his shirt as our mouths fuse together. I try to pour in all the love I feel for him into that kiss, my belief in him, and the fragile hope that maybe this time, my dour, Russian fears are unfounded.
He rips off my shirt unceremoniously, his arm getting tangled in my bra strap and making me giggle until he wraps it around my wrists, binding them together. “Put your arms over my head,” he says hoarsely, and I do, kissing and biting my way down the strong column of his throat. My jeans and undies are dangling off one ankle as he hauls me up with his hands on the back of my thighs, pressing me against the wall for balance as he fumbles with his belt, yanking open his jeans enough to pull out his shaft.
“You’re not ready, baby,” he groans, stroking two fingers against my center, and I angle my hips up invitingly.
“I will be,” I pant, “please don’t stop.”
He’s huge, and I’m grateful that even as turned on as Lucca is, he remembers how big his cock is, that it could do some damage if he isn’t careful. But I’m reckless and desperate and I can’t wait.
Pressing two fingers into my mouth, he says, “Lick them. Get them wet.” Swirling my tongue over the roughened tips of his fingers, I clench my legs around his waist, desperate to have him inside me.
When he pulls them out, I suck in a deep breath as he thrusts them inside me for a moment before I feel the broad head of his shaft press into me slowly.
“Ragazza bellissima e perfetta, beautiful, perfect girl,” he groaned. “I’m trying to be careful- fuck! You’re so hot inside.” Looking down, I see that he’s only halfway in, his thick cock splitting me in half and I bear down, ignoring the sting because it will always burn a little and I need this. I need him as far inside as he can reach because everything disappears when we’re together like this.
By his first thrust, I’m already wet and eagerly helping him using the strength in my thighs and gravity to move up and down. He’s gripping my ass with one hand to hold me steady and the other cups my breast, his thumb moving over my nipple, pressing down, circling it, and then pinching, sending a bolt of electricity straight down to my clitoris. The air leaves my lungs and I whimper gratefully. I need this, this confusing collision of cruelty and kindness, the pain and pleasure blurring together.
“I can feel you struggle to take in every inch,” he whispers diabolically, “and it is the hottest fucking thing. God, it’s good. You’re being so good for me, piccolo bacio. You taking my cock like this.”
Groaning, I bite his full lower lip, tugging on it with my teeth, wanting to make a mark on him like he is on me, like the bruises on my thighs and ass. His hand slides up to my neck, holding it firmly but not squeezing yet. “Are you mine?”
“O, bozhe moy, da, yes,” I wheeze, “always.”
“Do you trust me?” His fingers tighten slightly and I feel deliciously light-headed, not capable of comprehending anything but the feel of him inside me. “Do you?”
Sexy Lucca is almost too much. Chokehold Lucca is definitely next-level.
“Da, yes, of course I do,” I moan, “I love you. I always will. I believe in you, moy lyubimyy.”
“Then come for me,” he groans, and as I feel a powerful surge of heat from him spread through me, I bury my scream in his neck and join him.
His harsh panting in my ear brings me back to the moment, and I laugh weakly. “I feel so much better.” His shoulders are shaking and I squeeze my thighs around his hips. “Are you laughing at me?”
It takes him a minute to answer me, his voice muffled as he kisses my neck. “No.”
“Liar,” I sigh, “but I don’t care.” We’re so wet that I can feel our finish slicking along my thighs.
“Are you all right?” he asks, adjusting his grip on my ass.
“Yes.”
“Good.”
“Lucca?”
“Hmm?”
“Are you getting hard again already?”
“No. Maybe a little.”
“What is wrong with you?” I gasp, wanting to laugh but not able to work up the energy.
He lifts his head, giving me the most wicked grin. “Nothing that another round with you can’t cure.” He spins us around, landing on top of me on the bed and I give a little shriek, tightening my legs around him.
Like I’m going to say no.
Lucca…
Our transport to a private landing strip near Zermatt is not on the Turgenev private jet. With forty soldiers and me, Tati, Mariya, Meiying, Lev, Jun, Aleks, Konstantin, and an insane amount of heavy equipment, Alexi commissioned an old Russian military transport aircraft. The ride on the Ilyushin Il-112 is extremely rough, and we learn quickly to stay strapped in.
Tatiana is mechanically assembling and disassembling her sniper rifle, and by the fourth round, I put my hand on her arm. “You should try to rest, amore mio, you’re still recovering from pneumonia.”
“I’m fine,” she said, picking up the rifle stock to begin again.
“Really, I think-” I look up and Alexi is looking over at me. He shakes his head slightly, and I pull my hand away, watching her begin the process again.
He rises to stand next to us, balancing perfectly against the buffeting of the plane. “Lucca, switch seats with me.”
I’m unstrapped and out of my seat before he finishes the sentence and I see Konstantin smother a smile. I’m going to nut-punch him for that. Later.
Alexi and Tatiana’s heads are close together, he’s talking to her quietly. Her hands slow on her assembly but don’t stop as she speaks with him. Whatever he’s asking, she’s agreeing to, her beautiful face set and determined.
Finally, he nods and pats her arm gently, letting her get back to her work.
Chapter Thirty-Three
In which shit gets blown up.
Tatiana…
Pulling the Barrett M82 out of the case, I put it together quickly, keeping an eye on the compound. I practiced assembling and disassembling it until I was confident I could do it under any conditions. The hardest part is dragging the ammunition up with me. The .50 BMG cartridges are powerful enough to blast through a brick or concrete wall, but they are heavy as hell to drag around. Even Lev is puffing out white clouds of breath into the chilly air by the time we get to the rock outcropping.
The ski lodge in front of me is more like a winter palace, and with some amusement, I see several of the architectural stylings from the hunting lodge of Czar Nicholas, which look incongruous in the snowy mountains of Switzerland.
The enormous stone and concrete wall that surrounds the lodge, however, looks more like something you’d see at a high-security prison, including two guard towers and massive, black iron gates at the entryway. Leonid has cut down most of the majestic, centuries-old trees lining the road leading up to the lodge for a clear line of sight for a potential attack, which is why getting the gates open first is so important to our plan.
While Lev patrols the perimeter around us, I focus on my equipment again. After fitting on the night vision scope, I double-check the thermal filter. It’s working perfectly. The Rostova guards are walking the wall in pairs as Aleks predicted.
We are the second part of Lucca’s plan. The armored drone will deliver the explosion to the back wall, which should send most of the soldiers in that direction. I’ll take out the guards at the front gate and use the explosive rounds to tear open the gate, and then Lucca and Alexi will charge in through the rubble that’s left. While the compound is very well guarded, it’s obvious that Leonid is confident that no one has discovered his location.