Page 24 of Altered By Lead (Undercover Sinners 2)
Even if he hadn't said anything, I still wouldn't have told Hawke shit. Talk about a fucking party pooper.
When I hear his footsteps on the creaky old staircase, I slam my bedroom door shut and hurry to dress. As much as I want to hold my ground and refuse to go, I'm going stir-crazy. If they're really going to get me out, give me even a few moments of interaction with real, live, sane humans, well then I'm all in.
The clothes Colt picked out do nothing for my body. But it's either the baggy gray t-shirt and black cargo pants, or the sweat-soaked sports bra and yoga pants that I just left on the bathroom floor.
"Fuck it," I mutter to myself, fluffing my wet hair a couple of times and peering into the ancient, yellowing mirror. "What I wouldn't give for a lick of mascara or some concealer."
Not that I need it all that badly, but considering I never used to leave the house without a full face of makeup—not even to run out for vodka and cigarettes—this whole ‘natural; thing makes my reflection feel like a stranger.
"Going somewhere?" Arsen asks from behind me, and I damn near jump out of my skin with fright.
Spinning around, I find him lying back on my shitty single bed. Almost exactly where Weston had just been.
"How did you—" I start, then my eyes flicker to the open window. We're on the second story of the hotel but shit like physics doesn't really seem to apply to Arsen. "Never mind."
"Miss Petrova," he sings in a creepy, psychotic sort of way. It shouldn't turn me on, but it does. Oh fuck, it does. "I asked you a question."
He uncoils from my bed and crosses the distance to me in two huge steps, pinning me against the dresser.
"I said," he whispers in that dangerous tone, his lips brushing against my ear, "are you going somewhere?"
When I don't immediately answer, his hand snakes up to the back of my head, his fingers twisting in my damp hair then yanking. I hiss a sharp breath of pain, but don't pull away. For one, I like my hair attached to my head. For another ... I'm all kinds of turned-on.
Why, why, why do the crazy ones always get me so fucking hot?
"Look at all this pretty skin," Arsen croons, forcing my head back further and running his tongue down the line of my throat. "Makes me want to wrap my hands around it and just ..." He sucks a deep breath then releases it with a shuddering hiss "... just squeeze." The fingertips of his free hand mimic his thoughts on my upper arm and I know I'll have bruises there tomorrow.
Against my better judgement, a breathy moan escapes my throat and Arsen's pale blue eyes glitter with lust.
"Natalia!" Weston bangs on my door three times in quick succession. "Time to go!"
The sudden interruption sees Arsen's hold on me loosen, and I take the opportunity to slip past him.
He watches me go, his eyes fucking me from across the room as I drop my towel and start to change, right there in front of him. His breath hisses out and he rubs his hand over his smooth chin.
"It's taking everything in me not to destroy you right now," he says, and I can't decide if he means destroy with sex ... or something else. So I ignore him, only to find myself pushed up against the bed, his front to my back, my cargo pants only halfway up my legs. Arsen shoves them down, and I bite my lower lip to stifle a groan.
The doorknob jiggles again, and I can hear West sigh from just outside it.
"We have to go while Hawke's in the shower, or we're never getting out of here."
Arsen shoves me forward and pushes my panties aside, holding onto a handful of my hair as he thrusts his dick deep enough to make me cry out. I can hear Weston cursing outside the door: he heard me.
Oh well.
Serves him right, I think as I bite into the bedspread to stifle my moans. Arsen isn't a gentle or courteous lover; he uses me, but at least I know I'm using him just as much. For sex, obviously. But also because I love knowing that those other four assholes hate seeing us together.
Hawke, especially.
Arsen finishes, leaving me a panting, needy mess, and before I even get the chance to stand up, he's out the window and gone in a flash. The only evidence that he was even there is his cum running down my thighs.
"I'll be right there!" I call out, slipping into the bathroom to clean up and then heading for the bedroom door. Both Colt and West are waiting when I open it, my hair in a high pony, my cargo pants and tee making me look a bit like some less sexy version of Lara Croft.
