HER RUSSIAN SURRENDER (12 page)

Bristling with remembered indignation, Nikolai crossed the hallway to her door and put his hand on the knob. He wished he could tell her just how far he’d gone to ensure his nephew’s protection that night. How he—not her cop boyfriend—had taken care of the threat against both of them—

“No! Please don’t. Please don’t!”

Nikolai’s heart stopped beating. The words came from inside the room and we’re followed by a distinct sob.

15

N
ikolai acted without thinking, busting into the room without hesitation. He must not have solved the problem with his one man hit on the local Russian mob outfit. One of them had somehow gotten past his security forces and was now hurting her—

He stopped short when he found her thrashing around in the guest room’s canopy bed, the covers completely thrown off, her oversized college t-shirt up around her waist.

He looked around to be sure, but no, there was no one with her. Just Samantha McKinley, twisting around as if she were both trying to get away and prevent something from happening.

“Please, don’t do it. Don’t do it! I’ll do anything you want me to, just don’t hurt him—”

She was having a nightmare, he belatedly realized. He went over to her and turned on the light beside her bed.

“Samantha.”

“No, don’t. Please. Oh my God. Don’t!”

“Samantha,” he said again, trying to shake her awake.

“I will kill you. I swear I’ll kill you!” she growled. But the menacing affect of the words were diluted by the tears rolling down her cheeks.

“
Samantha!
” This time he pulled her into a sitting position and shook her harder, trying to break through her nightmare panic.

Samantha came blinking awake with a startled sound, half scream, half cry, and for many moments her wild eyes bounced around, before finally focusing on him. A shocked beat, and then to Nikolai’s astonishment, her head fell into his chest as she broke down sobbing, this time with tears of relief.

“Oh my God. Oh my God. I thought it was real.”

“What did you think was real?” he asked from his awkward position, one knee dug into the bed and one foot still on the ground, his hands wrapped around her shoulders. “What did you dream?”

She shook her head frantically against his chest, as if trying to rid her mind of whatever had spooked her so badly. “Nothing,” she answered, still crying. “It was nothing.”

Nothing had her visibly trembling all over. “Tell me about your dream. Was it about man who came to your house?”

He wondered then, for much more altruistic reasons, if he shouldn’t tell her about what he’d done that night. If it meant she’d stop crying so piteously into his chest, he found himself prepared to confess anything.

“No, not him,” she answered, her voice watery. “It doesn’t matter. It’s a long story, and I don’t want to talk about it. I’m fine…” Another one of those stifled sobs, as if she were desperately trying to keep herself from breaking down even further. “I’m fine,” she insisted.

“You are crying… and shaking all over,” he informed her, because clearly she did not know the difference between fine and not fine.

“I know. I’m being silly, because everything’s fine now. We’re safe. I think it’s a delayed reaction to what happened tonight.” She pulled away from him, and brought her hands up to swipe at her tears. “You can go. I’ll be fine in just a few seconds.”

She barely got this out before dissolving into more tears.

Nikolai observed her for a hard second. “I am calling doctor.”

“No!” she nearly yelled. “No doctors. I just need…” she trailed off.

“What do you need?” he demanded. “Tell me.”

He purposefully kept his voice harsh. If she tried to deny him the truth one more time…

“A-a hug,” she answered. Her teeth were chattering just like the night they’d met. This time he doubted it had anything to do with the cold. “But you don’t seem like the hugging type, so I just n-need something to hold onto.” She looked around the bed. “Muh-maybe a pillow—”

He climbed all the way onto the bed and dragged her into his arms, tucking her head into his chest. She was right, he wasn’t the hugging type, but he didn’t think twice about holding her. If this was what she needed, he was going to give it to her. There wasn’t even an inner debate as he settled back against the gold headboard with her wrapped tightly in his arms.

She continued to cry for a long while, dampening the front of his robe. But at least she stopped trembling. Eventually her sobs began to quiet, no longer wracking her entire body. And when she spoke next, her teeth had stopped chattering.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “I’m sorry you had to do that. I know it was probably hard for you, especially given your, uh, intimacy issues. But I want you to know I appreciate it. So really, thank you so much.”

Her words of gratitude grated through him. What kind of unfeeling person did she think he was? Yes, technically she was right about his feelings about intimacy. He put women into three categories: those he would have sex with, those he did not wish to have sex with, and those who he could not have sex with, and the women he chose to spend time with usually didn’t cry or show much emotion at all. They were like him, efficient and capable lovers who respected his disdain for drama and left without tears as soon as the act was done.

He’d never held a woman this long, much less comforted her through a crying fit. Nonetheless, he didn’t like the way Samantha categorized his preference for keeping his sex life drama free as—what had she called it? Intimacy issues. The two words set Nikolai’s teeth on edge. She obviously thought he was defective—defective like his father had been defective, and so emotionally deficient, he’d let a woman cry as Samantha had in his presence.

“You can go now,” Samantha said, her voice awkward, as she started to pull back. “As you can see, I’ve calmed. But seriously, thanks again—”

He kissed her. He couldn’t say exactly why. To keep her from thanking him again, or maybe—he did not want to think too hard about this—maybe because he didn’t want her to remove herself from his embrace.

Whatever the reason, his hand came up to her cheek, pulled her closer, and the next thing he knew, he was kissing her. Not a soft kiss either. Not the kind of comforting peck men sometimes gave women to distract them from their hysterics.

No, he couldn’t make that excuse, because when his lips landed on hers, they crashed down hard, demanding… desperate.
Don’t cry. Don’t tell me to leave
.

She didn’t cry. She didn’t tell him to leave.

But she did go completely stiff, a surprised gasp escaping her lips. He felt her hands come up to his chest, and for a moment he thought she would push him away. But then she moaned, turning her soft body into his and giving him better access to her lips and her breasts, which he didn’t even realize he’d gone after until his hand was underneath her shirt, palming one heavy globe as his tongue ravaged her mouth.

Kissing her was unlike anything he’d ever experienced, like coming out of a Siberian prison to a home cooked meal. Yet he wanted more. More than what he was getting. Wanted… wanted…

Nikolai groaned roughly against her lips. He needed to stop. This was happening too fast and he was a systematic lover. He enjoyed conquering a woman, making her surrender to his erotic assault, sometimes more than once, before he calmly put on a condom and took what he wanted from her with the sure knowledge that she was now fully prepped to receive his larger than usual length. Like a table that had been properly set.

But this kiss… it had him pumping himself against her, his arousal thick underneath his boxer briefs and straining to get out. There came a new feeling in his chest, one he dimly recognized as the opposite of the usual ice he maintained at all time. One that caused a weird tumbling sensation inside his stomach.

He tore her t-shirt, ripping it off her body with one hard yank. She was making him feel. She was making him feel. She was making him…

Slow down
, he said to himself, once again trying to rein in the kiss. But it was like trying to stop a forest fire. With a hose.

Both of his hands were kneading her breasts now—no, a trickle of logic couldn’t stop what was happening between them. The only thing that could have stopped him in that moment was if she had told him to stop, that she didn’t want what was happening between them to happen. Only then would he have torn himself away from this kiss, released her bountiful breasts, which seemed to have been made to fill up his large hands.

“Oh God, don’t stop!” She moaned again, pressing her breasts into his hands, her lips into his mouth, her core into his…

He had no awareness of flipping her on her back, of his robe coming off, of removing the barrier of her panties. No memory of getting on top of her.

Later, all he would remember of those moments was the feel of finally sinking inside her, the sound of himself groaning with sweet, aching relief. Because it felt like coming home.

SAM TECHNICALLY UNDERSTOOD what was happening, but then again, she kind of didn’t.

First had come the unexpected kiss from Nikolai right after she tried to put on her big girl pants and stop blubbering all over his robe. Instead of letting her go and running like a man on fire back to his room as she’d expected he would, he kissed her! And then there had been confusion, her mind shorting out as she tried to figure out what was happening.

Then her body caught on fire, a volcano of desperate need forming inside her core, so quickly that she didn’t have time to argue with herself. Her body instantaneously responded to his unexpected kiss with a mind of its own, her breasts swelling, her core becoming unbearably hot. Even her mind abandoned her, screaming right along with every other inch of her, to let this happen. All she needed—and the
only
thing that would take the nightmare away, was having the Russian hockey player inside of her.

There came a ripping sound and then both his hands were on her breasts, squeezing so hard it caused her pain. But not the kind that truly hurt. It was a sweet pain that tingled all the way down to her core. She could feel his hips pumping against her body as he continued to kiss her, his erection thick and hard as it brushed against the top of her right thigh. But that wasn’t where she wanted him. No, she wanted him somewhere else, and without conscious thought she adjusted herself to get him there, pressing herself into his long length… she let out a shocked gasp. She could actually feel the outline of his mushroom head behind his briefs—that was how hard he was.

Then it was too late. One press against him. That was all it took.

The next thing she knew, her back hit the bed. Her panties were yanked down and then his huge body was on top her and… Oh God… he pushed inside and he was… another cry up to the heavens as she bit down on her lip… he was so thick and heavy inside her wet folds. His large shaft spread the outer lips of her pussy farther apart than she’d ever imagined they could go and he didn’t stop, not until he was all the way in, his balls coming to rest against her entrance as he gave her a moment to adjust to his size.

She didn’t take that moment. Sam was so hot, so wet for him. Instead she shifted underneath him, urging him with a pelvic thrust to keep going. This wasn’t natural, she thought on the razor edge of sanity. She’d never been filled like this before, and it should be hurting. But the hurt never came, only pleasure as he braced himself above her and started moving inside of her.

He was as she’d expected he’d be, despite all his talk about her pleasure the night they met. Rough. He filled and refilled her with slow thrusts, hard and raw. But Sam didn’t mind, couldn’t mind. It felt magnificent, and another moan tore out of her throat when he adjusted and his length began hitting her clit at just the right angle every time he plunged into her.

Apparently, that was the right answer. Sam realized he must have been looking for her hot spot when he was going at her rough and slow. Now he sped up, his powerful boy finding a rough and fast rhythm on top of hers.

Sam cried out helplessly, her body meeting his thrusts in a dance as old as time. With past lovers, it had always taken her a while to get warmed up—sometimes too long—she’d missed out on more than a few finales with her grad school ex.

But with Nikolai, she soon realized she wasn’t going to last long. The way he was pumping into her was so incredibly hot. Like having her nightmare flipped over to reveal the most erotic dream. Sam couldn’t believe it. Any of it. That he actually fit, that this kind of pleasure was happening to her of all people.

He said something quick in Russian, lifted one of her legs up and over his shoulder and then continued his relentless drive into her. This made the sex even more intense—an upgrade she wouldn’t have guessed possible a few seconds ago. And the new angle made it so he could go in even deeper, so deep that—

Sam cried out when electric bursts of pleasure started shooting through her core. So sharp, they were almost painful. So exquisite, it took Sam a few strung out moments to realize he must be hitting her g-spot, a place so deep and hidden she’d suspected it might only exist in legend.

But she believed now. Oh God, did she believe. Her hands found his hips and held on tight. To Sam this felt like more than sex. It felt like healing. Like Nikolai had somehow figured out the one way to keep her from completely unraveling after what had nearly happened earlier that night.

The way he moved inside her, like an animal, his strokes, powerful and crude. Yet each stroke took away the ugliness of the nightmare that had brought him to her. Sam had always taken pride in being an independent woman when it came to relationships. The total opposite of her mother, who’d only seemed to exist to be at her stepfather’s beck and call. But in this case, all her independence flew out the window. She clung to him, drawing on his strength, greedily receiving everything he was giving her.

And then she came. So violently, the fiery blast of ecstasy completely seized up her body, making it so she couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe. The sensation was so overwhelming, it almost felt like choking to death. The best way ever to die.