The Devil's Beauty (Crime Lord Interconnected Standalone Book 2) (24 page)

Carefully, he pulled away. His eyes had become dark pits banded by a thin circle of gold. They peered down at her, void of the annoyance or anger she’d been expecting.

He kissed her again, lighter, before following a slow path down her throat, along the plane of her chest to the swell of her breasts.

Ava’s breath caught and wheezed out in a moan when he took the tip of one into his mouth. His firm lips closed around the shriveled peak and a lance of raw fire skittered through her. It tore her open, that single, simple gesture and she balked. Lights sparked behind the eyelids she squeezed shut tight. It blocked out the hand he lifted to cradle the second breast until he was rolling the nipple and drowning her in a pool of pleasure. He pinched it between his thumb and index finger. He tugged.

Ava swore, viciously and violently, her mind no longer working properly.

“Don’t stop!” she panted, practically hysterical in her command. “Whatever you’re doing…” she broke off with a low, lusty groan with the first nip of his teeth. Her head dropped back. Her fingers fisted into his hair, holding him while he soothed the sweet pain with light flicks of his tongue. “Other one…” She forcibly dragged him to her other nipple. “Again. Please.”

He complied. He caught the bundle of nerves between his teeth and tugged, adding just enough pressure to send her world teetering. The ferocity was so severe that she didn’t even stop him when his fingers returned, pushing past the slight resistance of her virginity to fill her. She was so lost in the approaching storm she didn’t even notice the discomfort.

Her release sang through her with violence that had her legs flailing and her hips lifting off the mattress in wild bucks. She might have screamed, but only the roar of her own blood filled her ears. Then the tides quieted. Her heart slowed and she could feel her toes again as they uncurled.

“Ava.” His warm breath tickled her skim. “Do you have anything?”

In the blissful hue of her aftermath, she couldn’t be sure he’d heard him correctly. The outrage and hurt swamped the pleasure he’d just given her.

“Of course not!” she snapped, still panting. “I’ve never been with anyone else.”

He kissed her, which wasn’t the best idea, in her opinion, when she wanted to bite him.

“Condoms,
myshka
,” he murmured against her mouth. “I need to be inside you.”

Slightly embarrassed, Ava shook her head. “I’m on the pill,” she told him softly. “I started five months ago.”
To prepare for this moment,
she didn’t say. “But I think there’s some in the bathroom. I saw a box there a while back.”

He rose off her and padded into the bathroom. The light flared on, temporarily blinding her before it was snapped off and he returned, a square foil in hand. She watched as he pulled it on, encasing all that rock hard length in rubber. Her stomach muscles fluttered. She licked her lips, partially in anticipation. 

Then he was back, a warm, familiar weight draped over her. She welcomed him with her arms around his shoulders and her knees cradling his ribs. Her fingers combed into his hair and tugged his face down to hers. She kissed him, loving the taste of him slipping over her tongue, the way he softened above her. He held her tight, crushing her between him and the mattress as he returned the painfully gentle coaxing of their lips.

“I’ll be gentle,” he promised quietly.

Ava could only nod, then wait as he tucked one hand beneath her hips. She was lifted to him, to the solid length of his erection tucked between her thighs.

He kissed her again, harder, preoccupying her with the subtle pain of her lips pushing against her teeth, when he plunged his hips forward. The unexpected assault startled the shit out of her. He’d said he’d be gentle and yet the thrust had been anything but. His cock ripped up into her body with the same authority and dominance as its owner. It took what it wanted as it settled deep inside her heat.

“It’s done,” he whispered against the side of her face. “Okay?”

She was. It was like when she’d gone to get her ears pierced. There’d been the initial anticipation, the clap of the gun, and then it was over with only a mild burning afterwards. Part of her was relieved he hadn’t gone slow or told her when. It was done and over with, and he was inside her.

“You’re inside me,” she breathed, marveling at the feel of him nestled within the confines of her sex, filling her impossibly tight.

He chuckled unsteadily, but said nothing. He raised his weight slightly, pulling back his hips and then pushing forward.

Ava gasped as the friction worked against her walls. Her nails bit into his shoulders, urging him on.

“Feels so good…” She shut her eyes tight. “Don’t stop.”

She loved the feel of him pumping inside her and the way his body flexed beneath her hands and the glide of his chest rubbing against her nipples, teasing them. She had never realized how sensitive they were until now. She never knew how much she loved having them toyed with. All the times she’d given herself orgasms, she’d focused only on her clit. Her nipples had never even crossed her mind. Now, every whisper against them had her liquefying.

“I think I’m coming again,” she choked into the length of his shoulder, her voice wavering as the dark waves rose higher over her.

“I know,” he raised his head and met her wide gaze. “I can feel it around my cock.”

Ava swallowed hard. “You can feel it?”

He nodded. His pace slowed to smooth, even glides.

“Your pussy gets tight and wet, and … feel that?” he asked in a strangled gasp when her core clenched around him, gripping him as the first wave rippled through her.

“Yes…”

“That’s how I know.”

It was such a rush, being walked through it even as it took claim of her.

“Are you coming?”

“Yes.”

“Come with me” She dug her nails into the taut globes of his ass cheeks, forcing him in deep as her world began to splinter. “Come with me, Dimitri.”

He snarled something and quickened his pace. His thrusts angled and deepened. There was an urgency in his movement, a coiled tension across his back that roped the muscles. She felt the heat of his pants against her neck, felt the thundering of his heart meeting hers. But it was the insistent and demanding assault of his shaft rubbing against her clit that did the trick.

She came a full second before him. Her pussy clamped down hard even as he continued to drive inside her viciously, ferociously. Then he slammed up once, hard enough to hurt before breaking apart in her arms.

“I love you,” he whispered when the world righted itself once more.

Ava smiled against the side of his neck. “Are you saying that just to get into my pants?”

With a sound between a laugh and a groan, he rocked his hips, pushing his semi flaccid cock in deeper. “Already in your pants,” he panted. “Already in your tight pussy. God, I want to fuck you again.”

She could feel it. His cock had begun to harden and the thrill that knowledge brought on drew a smile. But she was assessing the possibility that her body could handle another go when he pulled out. The unexpected abandonment of the part of him she was quickly becoming very fond of elicited a startled yelp from her.

“Don’t leave!” she pleaded, reaching for him.

He rose up on his knees, chuckling, his cock full and hard again inside the blood stained and used condom. “You’ll thank me in the morning when you can walk properly.”

Her brows puckered in deliberation. “I don’t think I’d mind not walking properly.”

His smile vanished so suddenly, it was like the sun dropping into the ends of the earth and plunging the world into darkness. It was replaced by a baring of his teeth and the clasp of his hand in her hair as he yanked her to him.

“Be careful what you wish for,
myshka.
”

The shriek of rusted hinges ripped Ava from the memory. It tore her from the cocoon of warmth and security and thrust her back into the metal coffin with the cold and the fear. In the silence, the sound reverberated like the caw of death. It slammed into the walls, shaking everyone awake.

Ava lifted her head off the arm she’d been using as a pillow and squinted at the five men that ambled into the space.

They held no baskets of bread. No buckets of water. The hum of the engine continued vibrating beneath them so they hadn’t docked. The group said something to each other in low murmurs Ava couldn’t hear, but every nerve ending in her body prickled. A cold fist closed around her stomach. It spread through her veins. The other girls must have sensed it too because they all began to move, to shift and sit up. The older ones knew what was happening. The younger ones glanced at the older ones for answers.

Ava reached for Ilsa. The girl hadn’t moved from her curled position next to Ava. Her skin felt like ice where Ava took hold of her arm. She gave a gentle squeeze of warning to keep quiet, to not move.

Ilsa gave a rattling gasp, a sound between a choked sob and a breath. Ava squeezed harder.

It was ridiculous. Not moving wasn’t not going to draw attention to them. There was nowhere to hide in the open space, but God help her, she prayed it would be one of the other girls. It was horrible and selfish, but it had to be someone. It would be someone. She just didn’t want it to be Ilsa.

The men moved away from the door and began making a path through the crowd, stepping over legs, brushing up against bodies and snickering when the girls flinched. The terror they were causing built their resolve. It fueled their hunger. This was what they lived for, the domination and control of those weaker than them.

One broke away from the others and started towards their corner. Ilsa shrank back into Ava the closer he drew. Even Ava held her breath, her heart a drum pounding between her ears.

He grabbed a girl nearby by the arm and yanked her up. The girl immediately burst into tears, begging and pleading in a language Ava couldn’t understand. The man laughed as he dragged her from the room.

The others followed. The door slammed behind them like a final gong. And Ava had never felt so sick. Her insides roiled and for the first time since waking up in that nightmare, she openly wept.

The jet tires hit the tarmac at
Isla Grande Airport
,
San Juan, Puerto Rico
with a squeal of rubber and a rattle of glass. The impact had Dimitri’s attention reverting from his phone, his message to Erik forgotten as he took in the pale, blue waters of
San Juan Bay
in the near distance and the skyline of
Old San Juan
beyond it. He’d never been there before, but he’d spent the last seven hours reading about the island and its splendid beauty. There hadn’t been much else to do short of pacing and snapping at the overfriendly stewardess offering him hot towels every chance she got.

It was after one in the afternoon when the jet pulled into the terminal. Dimitri rose out of his seat before the prompt to unbuckle and stalked down the aisle. He hadn’t packed anything. The most he had on him was his wallet, his phone, his keys, and the guide to the city he’d grabbed at the airport. There was nothing he needed he couldn’t pick up after he had Ava.

His phone buzzed as he was crossing the terminal. He fished it out and pressed it to his ear.

“Yeah?”

“Your mother keeps calling me,”
Erik said before Dimitri even finished.
“You’re not answering her calls. She’s becoming concerned.”

Dimitri stopped short of rolling his eyes. “Concerned about what?”

“That you’re not answering her calls,”
he repeated slower.
“She seems to think you’re cutting ties after your arrangement.”

“There is no arrangement,” Dimitri bit out.

“There is always an arrangement. That’s how your mother works. What did you promise her?”

He hadn’t exactly promised anything, but Erik was right. His mother never did anything without getting something in return.

“I told her that I would allow her pipeline to run underground through the north.”

“Have you changed your mind?”
Erik prompted.

“Of course not. I never go back on my word.”

“Good. Your mother is not the right person to get on your bad side right now … or ever,”
Erik added as an afterthought.
“Call her. Appease her. You’ll be thankful for it later.”

Erik hung up.

Dimitri considered ignoring the advice; he had more important things on his mind, but he called his mother.

Elena picked up on the third ring.

“I was beginning to wonder when you call me,”
she said with a razorblade edge.
“It figure that you listen when Erik tells you, but not your mother.”

Dimitri chose to ignore her. “I’m not going back on our terms. You can open your pipeline underground when I become elected.”

Elena sucked her teeth, a habit Dimitri hated.
“Is good, but should you double cross me, Dimitri, son or not, I will cut you at the knee, understand me?”

“Thank you for flying with us,” said a woman as Dimitri reached the doors of the airport.

He gave her a nod and quickly passed through.

“Where are you?”
Elena demanded.

“I have business,” Dimitri answered simply.

“Business where?”

Dimitri glanced up and down the asphalt, searching for the car that was supposed to be waiting for him.

“Business,” he repeated. “I will see you when I return.”

He hung up before she could prod.

No sooner had he stowed his phone away when a sleek, white town car rolled into view. The sunlight glinted off the chrome grill and the steel horse hood ornament.

The car slowed to a stop right in front of him. The tinted window rolled down and a pockmarked face half hidden behind designer glasses peered out.

“Dimitri?”

Dimitri gave a curt nod. “Hector?”

“Si.”

The driver rolled out of his seat and hurried around to get the door. Dimitri climbed in, but not before noticing the bulge under the man’s blazer.

“Marcus said to expect you,” Hector said once the door had been closed and the driver behind the wheel once more. “He did not tell me why, but to trust you.” He motioned the driver onward. “This is a problem,” he continued as the car turned out of the airport. “Trust, in my line of work, is … tricky.”

“I don’t care about your operation,” Dimitri stated simply. “You have someone in one of your shipments that belongs to me and I want her back.”

Hector thought about this as they turned out of the parking lot, drove past a freight lot and continued down a long road. Dimitri didn’t notice the scenery, too caught up in the man seated next to him and the armed driver who had let him into the car.

“Marcus told me this,” Hector confirmed.

“I thought Marcus didn’t tell you much,” Dimitri countered.

Hector chuckled. “He told me enough.”

The car continued onto a highway and over a bridge overlooking a marina.

Hector reached into the inside pocket of his blazer and pulled out a slim, gold case. He freed a cigarette and lit it. He offered the pack to Dimitri, who shook his head. With a shrug, he put the pack away.

“This someone in my shipment, she is someone special, I am assuming.”

It was a task keeping himself from stiffening as his senses prickled, his mind already knowing where this was going.

“Yes,” Dimitri murmured through stiff lips.

“Of course.” He waved the hand holding the cigarette, sending tendrils of pale, gray smoke swirling into the air. “You don’t come to San Juan for the
cocina criolla,
eh?”

Dimitri had no idea what that was, decided not to ask, and waited for the man to continue.

“She your woman?”

He thought of his promise to John Paul. “No.”

Hector’s brow furrowed over the gold rims of his glasses. “Sister?”

“No!” he said a little more forcefully.

Realization dawned and dark eyebrows lifted into a shiny, black helmet of hair. “Ah, a lover.”

“I told you—”

“A woman is a woman whatever she is,” Hector concluded, seemingly tired of his own game. “But you want her. I have her.”

“What do you want?” Dimitri interjected.

Hector sucked on his cigarette, enflaming the rosebud at the end until it blazed a startling red. He exhaled, spilling plumes of tobacco scented smoke through the car.

The driver wordlessly drew down two of the three windows. All the windows, except Dimitri’s.

“Marcus tells me you will be joining his Syndicate, in a seat of power.”

Dimitri said nothing.

Hector didn’t need a comment. He continued. “I can use a friend.”

Dimitri looked at the hand the man offered him, but didn’t take it. “I’m already friends with Marcus.”

Hector chuckled. “My cousin is a good man, but one day, you will need a bad man to … confide in.”

Dimitri weighed his options. He could tell the man to go fuck himself. Loyalty was an important, tenuous truce. To break that trust could mean many things, including bloodshed. Marcus could see it as an act of betrayal. However, to refuse Hector could mean he never saw Ava again. 

He took the man’s smooth, dry hand. “I would like a friend.”

Hector smiled around the cigarette. “Good.”