Cruel Enforcer by Maggie Cole
1
Kora Kilborn
Adrenaline shoots through me.The incident in the VIP room should make me run from Sergey. All it did was give me wet panties.
My decision-making process might be off a tad. I've been drinking—a lot. Aspen adamantly kept ordering shots, and we all participated with her. I had a bad feeling about the VIP room, but it happened quickly. I tried to get off the thug's lap I was on, but he wasn't releasing me. The fear building in my chest was growing when the Ivanovs busted through the door.
I didn't know who Sergey was. I had never met him before tonight. Aspen only told us about Maksim's brothers. However, she lied about Sergey. She said he was good-looking.
He's not.
Sergey is a bad boy of sexy sin, tempting you to toss all your morals and respect out the door so he can touch you. He's wearing a suit coat over a form-fitting designer T-shirt. Every inch of fabric hugs his ripped body perfectly. His face is an angel of innocence mixed with the devil. Piercing brown eyes, rough full lips, and a beard frames his slightly crooked nose. It's a bend a man gets from fighting, not a natural imperfection. And I'm sure he knows how to scratch a woman just enough to drive her mad with his beard. Making him even sexier are the tiny strands of silver in his dark hair. They are barely visible and add to his broody expression.
His looks aren't really fair. Looking at him puts me on edge. It's an orgasm waiting to happen yet never comes. So Aspen severely downplayed Sergey's looks in our discussions.
The gun he has lodged in his pants should make me keep my distance. I'm an attorney. My job requires me to stay away from anything criminal. He just pulled a gun on a room full of men and never flinched once. Instead of using my head, all I can think about is giving him some. That was before he spoke and his sexy Russian accent came out.
It's not as thick as Maksim's, Adrian's, or the other man who was in the room. I think his name was Bogden, but I didn't pay close attention.
I'm a naturally confident person. Being an attorney suits me. I can be as assertive as I want, and no one questions it. It's something other women, and some men, tend to find intimidating. It's why I love my friends so much. They understand and appreciate me for who I am. I don't have to tone it down or hide with them. I usually spend most of my time on dates keeping myself in check. It's probably why I've not found "the one" yet. Hailee claims I'm setting myself up for failure, since I'm pretending to be softer than I am. She says if a guy can't handle me how I am, I shouldn't be with him. I keep thinking if I tone it down, they will see the good parts of me and learn to understand and appreciate the traits that usually scare men off. So far, it hasn't worked out very well.
Due to my alcohol consumption, I don't think about how I shouldn't be as forward or hide my personality. I'm not the only one making decisions I might regret. Skylar is now straddling Adrian and has his shirt half unbuttoned. I try to not gape at his abs and don't miss Hailee's mouth hanging open to the floor.
Instead, I focus on Sergey. "What do you think of cougars?"
I'm thirty-eight, five years older than Sergey. I've been with younger guys before. They've always wanted me to show them what I've got. It's fun for a while. I guess it fits my dominant side.
He surprises me, creating a zing in my body I've not felt before when he secures his long fingers around my wrists and tightly winds my hair around his other fist. I gasp as he tugs my hair back. Fire lights in his eyes so hot, I wonder if hell could burn any brighter. In a low growl, he replies, "It depends on what the cougar can handle."
The car stops, the door opens, and I shut my gaping mouth. The throbbing in my lower body intensifies. I swallow hard then mutter, "This is me."
He releases my hair, dragging his finger down my neck, and rubs his thumb on my arm before releasing my wrists. He gets out and reaches in for me.
I'm confused by his gentleman's action. Most men I've dated don't hold the door open for me or attempt to help me do anything. I think they assume I can do it for myself, so why bother. Deep down, it's always upset me. I want a man to do for me what they do for others. I may be independent, but chivalry doesn't need to be dead.
He helps me out of the car and guides me toward the building.
"What are you doing?"
"Making sure you get inside your home safely."
My heart beats faster. The alcohol wears off. I straighten up. "It's okay. You don't have to do that."
He grunts. Is he amused by my statement? He continues leading me to the elevator and punches the button. It opens immediately, and he guides me in. Another couple follows. Sergey puts his arm around my waist, tugs me into his body, and splays his palm on my stomach.
Another wave of buzzing makes my knees turn to jelly. I try to maintain my composure.
"Sorry, I drank a lot," I mumble, wondering why my body is reacting like this. I just met him. A quiver sets off low in my belly, and he tightens his arm around me.
The elevator stops on my floor, and the other couple steps aside. Sergey leads me to my place. I fumble with the key, and he puts his hand over mine. I stand straighter, take a deep breath, and allow him to turn my hand so the door opens.
He motions for me to go through, and he steps in and shuts the door. His eyebrow arches, and his piercing gaze meets mine. "Do you always play in cougar town?"
I'm not sure how to respond. I've suddenly lost all my courage. I had plenty of it in the car, but it's now hiding somewhere in the ocean of flutters swirling inside me.
When I don't respond, he moves toward me. I retreat until I'm up against a wall. He secures my wrists, pins them to the wall with one hand above my head, and holds my chin. His body presses against mine. Heat emanates from his muscular frame and mouth, penetrating into me. In a low voice, he states, "It's too bad you've had so many drinks tonight."
"Hmmm?" I arch my sex into his body then swallow the lump in my throat.
He tilts his head, strokes my jaw with his thumb while still holding my chin, and studies me. He glances down, but our bodies are too close together to see anything, except my cleavage.
He puts his thigh between my legs then his mouth near my ear. "Are you always in control?" Wet warmth flicks against my lobe.
I whimper.
He shimmies his thigh between my legs, adding sweet friction to my clit. "Answer me."
"Yes," I breathe before I can think.
He keeps moving his leg, exciting me more and more. His erection pushes into the side of my waist. "Do you think you could handle me?" His lips and teeth move along my neck and jaw, leaving tingles in their wake.
"Mmm," is all I can get out. Every pulsing sensation I could have terrorizes me. It's like riding on the O train and not knowing when to get off or if you should get off.
He holds my arms higher and places his lips next to mine.
I move forward to kiss him, but he doesn't allow me.
"Be a good girl and say please." He drags his hand from my chin to my head until he has my hair wrapped around his fist, taking any power left away from me.
There's no thinking about anything. His leg continues to rub against me, and desperation to have him consumes me. I whisper, "Please."
"Say it again, louder." His expression is the same he wore when he demanded the thugs in the club release us. There's no room to argue or disobey. His thigh slows.
"Please," I cry out.
Approval fills his eyes. His leg moves faster, his lips and tongue slide against mine so quickly, I get dizzy. He kisses me deeper and deeper, controlling every aspect of my mouth.
And then I start coming. An earthquake of endorphins hits me, and I moan in his mouth while vibrating between him and the wall.
I'm unsure how long it lasts. But when he finally pulls back from my lips, his cocky expression only heats my blood more.
He slowly releases my wrists, sliding his hands down my arms, then stepping back. "It was nice meeting you, Kora."
I blink, trying to regain my balance. I reach for his shirt and yank him into me. "Where are you going?"
He glances at my lips again then back to my eyes. "What I'll do with you requires consent. You've drunk a lot tonight."
My pulse intensifies, and my mouth goes dry. "What would you do to me?"
He smirks. "Maybe some other time you'll find out."
"What?" I barely whisper.
He winks, spins, and walks out of my condo. I stand against the wall, inhaling lemons, a touch of weed, and sandalwood.
The door opens back up. Sergey pops his head inside. "You need to lock your door, Kora."
It confuses me further. "Oh, right."
He shuts the door. I stumble to it and turn the locks in place then peep out the eyehole.
As if he knows I'm watching him, another cocky expression appears, and he nods. He turns and leaves, and I slide down the door until I'm on my butt.
I don't know where that man came from. He's not like my typical little cubs. All I know is I don't want more, I need more.