Read Online Codename: Nightshade (Deadly Seven Strike Force) by S Anderson - Free Book Online
Authors: S Anderson
Ads: Link
likes to be tied up and beat so hard that he has bruises for weeks. I just like to pretend he’s my dead lover. Either way, we’re just fooling ourselves long enough to escape. To feel again.
He slips his smooth fingers along my entrance, and I gasp. It’s wrong, all wrong. Marko has never toughened his hands. He wears gloves when the snow starts to fall. He has servants to scrub his floors. Nikolai used his hands for everything. Nikolai’s fingers were calloused. So rough I used to tease him by leaving bottles of girly-scented lotions in his office. I can imagine his fingers touching me. The texture, just the memory of it, sends me into a frenzy.
He teases me until I’m soaking, rolling my hips forward to ride his hand. I need more, so much more than he’s about to give me. But I’ll take what I can and make the rest up as I go along.
“You’re so wet,” he groans. “Fuck, Poppy, the things you do to me.”
Those are Marko’s words. Nikolai was never one for dirty talk. He didn’t have to be. The man said very little in general. He was so silent I sometimes would reach out and touch him just to make sure he was still in the room. He would grunt and groan, though, making sounds that made the base of my skull tingle.
“Shut up and fuck me,” I say, spreading my legs.
He is nothing if not accommodating. I hear the rough, fast opening of his zipper and the distinct tear of a condom wrapper a few seconds before he plunges into me from behind. We moan in unison. Every muscle in my body tightens. My guard is down, my defenses haywire. My emotions are flowing free, and I’m suddenly confused.
I’m glad I face the other direction. Each time he pulls out and pushes in my heart jerks in my chest. I press my forehead to the cool metal wall and try not to cry too hard.
I remember that last night with Nikolai. The feel of his body beneath me. The taste of the wine on his lips. To this day I can’t even smell red wine without thinking of the man.
I told him I loved him that night.
I never should have let him go.
Marko quickens his pace, thrusting into me so hard I slide on my heels.
“I’ve got you Poppy ,” he says, wrapping his arm around me and holding me.
Just like Nikolai did that night. I almost fell, and he caught me.
A scream is caught in my throat. Stop. No. Not like this. The words are on the tip of my tongue, but I swallow them back. I don’t want to enjoy this. I can’t. I need him to pull it from me. I have to purge it from my system.
Nikolai is dead. He’s been dead for ten years.
But he’s still alive in me.
I groan. It’s a tortured sound full of my tears and hate. I’m so frustrated, so hurt. I can kill everything except this need to have Nikolai back in my arms.
Marko isn’t fazed by my hysteria. It’s what I do. It’s what I need. I picture the look of abandon he gets on his face when I’m beating him. I imagine that’s in my eyes right now.
Right here, only here, I let myself feel it. I let myself admit he’s gone, and he’s never coming back.
And I can’t do a damn thing about it.
Somehow, in some twisted way, my body builds with pressure. I can’t be getting off on this, can I? I’m sick if I am, aren’t I?
He rubs my clit with his free hand, pounding into me so hard I have to lean back to keep my forehead from knocking the metal wall.
“That’s it, Poppy ,” he says. “Fall apart for me.”
Fall apart. I’m a fucking mess of pieces that I’m going to need a gallon of paste to force back together. I’m already apart—split down the middle into the cold-hearted assassin and the broken-hearted little girl.
He rubs my clit hard, and I scream as orgasm consumes me. My body seizes, and I can’t breathe. For a second, I imagine I’m dead. I believe Nikolai is holding me, and we’re dead… together .
And everything is perfect.
Then my lungs contract, and I inhale sharply. I collapse back against Marko’s chest.
“Fuck, Penelope,” he says,
He slips his smooth fingers along my entrance, and I gasp. It’s wrong, all wrong. Marko has never toughened his hands. He wears gloves when the snow starts to fall. He has servants to scrub his floors. Nikolai used his hands for everything. Nikolai’s fingers were calloused. So rough I used to tease him by leaving bottles of girly-scented lotions in his office. I can imagine his fingers touching me. The texture, just the memory of it, sends me into a frenzy.
He teases me until I’m soaking, rolling my hips forward to ride his hand. I need more, so much more than he’s about to give me. But I’ll take what I can and make the rest up as I go along.
“You’re so wet,” he groans. “Fuck, Poppy, the things you do to me.”
Those are Marko’s words. Nikolai was never one for dirty talk. He didn’t have to be. The man said very little in general. He was so silent I sometimes would reach out and touch him just to make sure he was still in the room. He would grunt and groan, though, making sounds that made the base of my skull tingle.
“Shut up and fuck me,” I say, spreading my legs.
He is nothing if not accommodating. I hear the rough, fast opening of his zipper and the distinct tear of a condom wrapper a few seconds before he plunges into me from behind. We moan in unison. Every muscle in my body tightens. My guard is down, my defenses haywire. My emotions are flowing free, and I’m suddenly confused.
I’m glad I face the other direction. Each time he pulls out and pushes in my heart jerks in my chest. I press my forehead to the cool metal wall and try not to cry too hard.
I remember that last night with Nikolai. The feel of his body beneath me. The taste of the wine on his lips. To this day I can’t even smell red wine without thinking of the man.
I told him I loved him that night.
I never should have let him go.
Marko quickens his pace, thrusting into me so hard I slide on my heels.
“I’ve got you Poppy ,” he says, wrapping his arm around me and holding me.
Just like Nikolai did that night. I almost fell, and he caught me.
A scream is caught in my throat. Stop. No. Not like this. The words are on the tip of my tongue, but I swallow them back. I don’t want to enjoy this. I can’t. I need him to pull it from me. I have to purge it from my system.
Nikolai is dead. He’s been dead for ten years.
But he’s still alive in me.
I groan. It’s a tortured sound full of my tears and hate. I’m so frustrated, so hurt. I can kill everything except this need to have Nikolai back in my arms.
Marko isn’t fazed by my hysteria. It’s what I do. It’s what I need. I picture the look of abandon he gets on his face when I’m beating him. I imagine that’s in my eyes right now.
Right here, only here, I let myself feel it. I let myself admit he’s gone, and he’s never coming back.
And I can’t do a damn thing about it.
Somehow, in some twisted way, my body builds with pressure. I can’t be getting off on this, can I? I’m sick if I am, aren’t I?
He rubs my clit with his free hand, pounding into me so hard I have to lean back to keep my forehead from knocking the metal wall.
“That’s it, Poppy ,” he says. “Fall apart for me.”
Fall apart. I’m a fucking mess of pieces that I’m going to need a gallon of paste to force back together. I’m already apart—split down the middle into the cold-hearted assassin and the broken-hearted little girl.
He rubs my clit hard, and I scream as orgasm consumes me. My body seizes, and I can’t breathe. For a second, I imagine I’m dead. I believe Nikolai is holding me, and we’re dead… together .
And everything is perfect.
Then my lungs contract, and I inhale sharply. I collapse back against Marko’s chest.
“Fuck, Penelope,” he says,
Similar Books
