Page 15 of My Crazy Killers
He fucks me with his fingers a few more times before his cock presses against my entrance. I want to weep with relief, but I stay silent and tilt my hips back, hoping to give him more access. One of his hands grips my thigh firmly, and he holds me tight as he slowly pushes inside, stretching me tight as I moan into the pillow.
His hips do a slow seesaw motion until he’s fully seated in me, his hips pressing to my ass. He places his freed-up hand on my other hip and holds me tightly for a few moments, letting me acclimate to his large presence. Then, he slowly pulls back and thrusts into me, hard.
Squeezing my mouth shut, I remind myself of the importance of staying quiet, which becomes insanely difficult when he starts to thrust harder and faster. With both of our voices staying silent, the sound of his body smacking against mine is loud and obscene and makes me even wetter.
I wish I could do more than lie here and take it. I wish I could say his name and tell him how much I like what he’sdoing, that I want him to move faster, harder. His hands start to caress my hips until one moves around to toy with my clit, and the other to my ass.
He presses two fingers into my rear, and I strain to muffle my gasp. It’s a strange mix of unease and pleasure, and as he starts to move his fingers in and out in rhythm with his dick, the strangeness of it completely fades until I’m just left with overwhelming pleasure.
My entire body feels as if it’s coiled up tightly, as if at any moment I will burst. Wanting to see him and show him how I feel in this moment, I lift my head from the pillow and look over my shoulder at him.
His eyes bore into mine, sharp and filled with intense desire. He grits his teeth, but his hips don’t stop moving. The sight of him moving behind me like that is terribly indecent, and I love it.
“Jagger,” I whisper as he moves harder. “I love you.”
His eyes alight with lust, and he pinches my clit between his fingers, I slam my face back into the pillow as liquid fire races through my body, lighting me up from the inside. I feel myself trembling beneath him and momentarily black out. I’m vaguely aware of his fingers clenching my hips tightly as he comes inside of me.
When I open my eyes, I’m lying on my stomach, my face turned sideways facing Jagger, who’s mirroring my pose. He reaches up and strokes my cheek before signing one-handed,“Okay?”
I smile at him as I whisper, “That was amazing. I can’t wait until next time, when I don't have to stay quiet. That was really hard.”
He smirks, pushing my hair behind my ear as he mouths,I love you.
“I love you, too.”
He pushes himself up enough that he can use both hands to sign,“I’m going to get you out of here, tiny flame.”
He lies back on his stomach, and I cup his jaw as I tell him the truth. “I know.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
ELIAS
The guard at the main gate barely glances at the paperwork before waving me through. His eyes slide lazily across the delivery manifest, then across my face, and in that instant, I see exactly what I expected: dismissal. Contractors in this part of Moscow are invisible. They arrive, unload, and leave. They don’t draw attention unless they give a reason to.
I ease the truck forward through the gates and feel the automatic tightening in my chest that happens whenever a plan leaves conceptual safety and drops into reality. There’s no turning back now.
I pull around to the side entrance, and a pair of guards wait, already impatient that I’m not out of the truck yet. I step down from the cab with a slight hunch to my shoulders, the universal posture of a man paid too little to argue with anyone, and hand them the clipboard they expect. They don’t even acknowledge me. They just read over the clipboard, then instruct me to unload everything inside.
I lift the back door of the truck, grab the first small crate, and carry it inside.
I glance over my shoulder and see they both stayed at their posts outside, facing the truck. I tuck the empty crate in the room with the first open door I see, then pull out my silencer.
We agreed on no tasers as the men would be able to bounce back from that after a few minutes, and we can’t afford any of these guards waking up and alerting anyone we’re here. But these men are all criminals; they are knowingly working for the worst mafia in the entire world.
Ivan is known globally for his illicit trades, criminal network, and weapon distribution. However, no organization had been able to pin him down for the crimes yet, mostly because the Russian government wasn’t willing to play ball with the Americans. When I was working his case with the FBI, our team had suspected he had support in the Russian government, so any attempt to take him down was met with resistance, or some poor councilman would suddenly end up in a terrible car accident.
That’s why I knew bargaining with the FBI would work. If they had that list, they would know who to trust and who to keep in the dark. Nobody was willing to risk talking to someone who may rat them out and make them Ivan’s next target.
With all that running through my head, I slip back toward the entrance, gun raised, and in two quick, quiet shots, both guards have crumbled to the ground with barely a noise.
“It’s clear,” I call to the truck.
I keep my eyes on the surroundings until the three ofthem move the crates and step forward, jumping down from the back of the truck.
“Dex, Pete, cover us,” I tell them quickly. “The guard was about Sly’s height, so he’s going in with me.” I’m surprised when nobody argues. Pete moves to the door and watches inside while Dex gives us his back and scans outside for anyone coming our way.
Sly and I make quick work of stripping the guards of their uniforms and putting them on. We toss our spare clothes in the back of the truck, then drag the two bodies inside, dumping them in a small side room where they hopefully won’t be found while we’re still here.
