Stepbrothers Stepping Out: With His Client Page 2

  His hooded eyes were a dark brown with a golden star surrounding the pupil. He had a pronounced bump on his nose, likely acquired in the service of the oligarch—a man so notorious, he sat on a U.S. sanctions list. Not that Pyotr Kurochkin’s business dealings had been affected. Not while Fedor could act as his eyes and ears in America…and sign the checks. Fedor’s mouth, although formed into a flat line, was surprisingly lush. I wondered if it would feel firm or soft against my breasts. His jawline was square; his chin dented. “Dimple” wouldn’t have been masculine enough a word to assign that deep cleft.

  His thumb scraped my lower lip, and I gasped. Had I stared too long. Did he think I wanted a kiss? Again, my gaze locked with his and one corner of his mouth rose.

  “I like that you blush so easily…”

  The plane bumped onto the tarmac. How had I missed the fact we were already landing?

  Minutes later, after we’d taxied into a private hangar, we departed—him preceding me down the steep steps. A black limousine was parked inside the shelter. He guided me forward with a hand on my elbow.

  The drive to what looked like an Italianate villa took another thirty minutes. Rain lashed at the windows. Wind buffeted the car. I thought of the clothing Brian had packed—the several bikinis—and I knew with certainty I’d never wear one. But not because of the dreary weather. The man sitting opposite me had yet to settle his stare anywhere else but on me.

  “Why?” I blurted. “Why bring me here?”

  “You are beautiful. I have business to attend to here. Why would I not want to spend my free time with you?”

  I snorted. “I’m not beautiful. You could afford a cover model’s company.”

  He shrugged and for the first time glanced away. Iron gates opened. But the limo continued past the villa. I glanced outside, curious now where he was bringing me. We stopped in front of a much smaller place—a bungalow, I suppose it could be called. Still, the porch was supported by marble columns. The steps were tiled with tiny chips of mosaic in blue and gold, forming the pattern of waves. The door beside me opened.

  Fedor ducked outside then stood in the rain to offer me his hand. “The steps can be slick. I will help you inside.”

  His hand fully enclosed mine in warmth as I let him pull me from the vehicle. We both stood with the rain coming down in sheets, but I didn’t demur even though my silk pantsuit clung to my skin.

  Without another word, he led me inside.

  The bedroom where he left me to change was gorgeous. The rug was an antique Persian, the colors softened with age. Blue, green, and gold medallions against a deep brown. The bed was covered in a rich brown brocade comforter and looked sumptuous, but I tried not to look there. It was large enough to accommodate his body with tall posts on each corner. All seating in the room was upholstered in a dark, buttery-soft leather. The bathroom was enormous with a walk-in shower with many heads and tiled in natural stone. The bathtub was copper on the outside and coated with an ivory enamel on the inside. I’d need to use the steps beside it the sides were so deep.

  I heard rustling in the bedroom and hurried back into the room to find a servant, dressed casually in a cotton skirt and tank, emptying my suitcases. She was pretty and young, and her smile flashed white against her dark skin. “I’ll only be a minute, miss.”

  I cleared my throat. “Fedor…Mr. Medved…?”

  “He’s waiting for you in the living room. Dinner is being prepared. He thought you might like a drink before eating. He wants you to wear this,” she said, sliding open a closet door and pulling out a dress that was more like a filmy caftan. The material was so thin, I knew my shape would be revealed. The dark filigree pattern against a blush background would play peekaboo with my nipples and the dark hair cloaking my crotch. “I don’t suppose he included a slip…?”

  She giggled, and her smile stretched wider. “He included sandals.”

  “Of course,” I said, my mouth going dry.

  When she left, I didn’t let myself think about what I should do—which was select one of the outfits Brian had packed. They were short but covered me. Instead, I stripped and pulled the caftan over my head. I spent a few minutes repairing my makeup, brushed my hair, then slipped on the dark sandals. As I walked from the bedroom, the thin silk fluttered against my hot skin, gliding against my nipples, between my legs. The caftan was as much of a tease for me as it would be for him.

  By the time I found him, I was already aroused, and there was no use pulling at the fabric that caressed my tight nipples to try to hide that fact.

  He faced a wall of windows that overlooked a long strip of pristine beach. He’d removed his jacket, and I noted that his white dress shirt was perfectly tailored, formed to his broad shoulders and lean back and waist. His slacks hugged his rounded buttocks.

  He had to know I was there; the soft leather soles of my sandals slapped on the tiled floor. I came up beside him and looked out at the view. From the corner of my eye, I watched as he glanced sideways, his gaze raking over my body. I couldn’t help drawing a deeper breath that lifted my chest—and my tight nipples.

  “Why didn’t you just ask me to come naked to you?” I asked, glancing his way.

  He turned his body then lifted a hand to finger the silk at my waist. “Do you like how it feels?”

  His voice was different. Deeper, smokier. My breasts quivered as I drew a shuddering breath. “Yes,” I whispered.

  He gave a nod. “Your pleasure is important to me.”

  I pressed my thighs together in an attempt to stopper the moisture wetting my sex. “Why should my pleasure matter?” I asked, lifting my chin.

  His mouth quirked, and I stared at that small smile. “I am not an ogre, Lila.”

  “You forced me here.”

  He canted his head. “Did I?”

  “You knew I couldn’t refuse.”

  “You mean, your brother wouldn’t let you refuse. You could have said no…or simply left my limo waiting at the curb. But here you are—wearing my gown.”

  I dropped any pretense of pride along with my chin and gazed down at our shoes—his polished loafers, my scanty sandals. Drawing in a breath for courage, I said, “You’re right. I wanted to come. I guess…I was…curious…”

  Fedor’s hands reached out, palms up, and moved slowly toward me.

  I could have stepped back, but instead, allowed him to cup my chin. He raised my face. “Before we met, I knew who you were. I have…friends…inside your company, who told me of your frustration with your brother. That you warned him long ago of where his excesses would lead him.” His dark eyes narrowed as he stared down at me. “You are lovers.”

  “We…are.” But looking at him, I knew that was no longer true. “Were,” I whispered.

  He gave a crisp nod. “I don’t share, Lila.”

  “This is… I’m not…” I shook my head at my dithering. “I still don’t understand why I’m here. Is it to punish my brother—or play some game?”

  “I saw you before…at a gathering at your country club.”

  I shook my head. “That’s not possible.”

  One eyebrow arched.

  “I would have remembered,” I said, lowering both of mine. And it was the truth. The first time I’d looked at him through the screen in the restaurant, he’d taken away my breath. He was too large, too commanding to miss.

  “I watched from a distance while you walked with your brother. His hand against the small of your back. I knew then that the rumors of your affair were true. You were as much mother as lover, trying to steer him toward the people he should speak with, your eyes narrowing when he drank too much. I thought your…attentions were wasted on one so unworthy.”

  “Brian isn’t unworthy,” I said, frowning.

  “He’s a child.”

  I drew another deep breath, ready to argue, but he was right. Brian was spoiled. Unprepared for his role as CEO. His father had thought he’d have time to groom him.

  “I remember thinking how re
markable it was that you were the same age. Both lovely to look at, but he’s empty and immature. While you are…too good for him.”

  I shook my head. “I’m not. My mother married into wealth, but I—”

  “Had the same opportunities, to a point. I understand. His set is privileged, with advantages they never earned. I could care less about their privilege.”

  I sighed. “I don’t get it. You sneer at him. You refused his request. You don’t care to partner with him, I get it. So, why am I here?’

  “It’s simple. I want you. He pursed his mouth and tilted his head in a sideways nod. “And I want your shares. I will not invest my money with a fool. He cannot retain control.”

  Disappointment chilled me. “Your shares, alone, wouldn’t give you control, and he wouldn’t give you controlling shares.”

  “I will work with you. You are sensible. Smart. You wouldn’t balk at instituting a program of austerity to rebuild your company. You will tell him that I will accept thirty-three if you are given thirty-four.”

  “Why would he give up control?”

  “Because he has no choice—and he believes you will give it back to him.”

  “And I would.”

  Again, Fedor raised one wicked brow. “Would you, even if you thought it wasn’t in his best interests?”

  I paused, unsure now. “You want a partnership, and you think that I’ll go along with you when it comes to voting. Is that why we’re here? Are you trying to seduce me into giving you control over my shares?”

  “I wanted a chance to talk to you. To go over some ideas I have for saving your company and for moving forward. But I could have accomplished that over a private business meeting. No, I told you already. I want you.”

  I barely stopped myself from stomping my foot. He was infuriating. “You said you want me and you want my shares.”

  He grunted. “Perhaps I didn’t say that right. I want you. With me.”

  I widened my eyes to glare at him. How many ways could he tell me he wanted my damn shares. “You want me—with you—so you’ll have power over my brother.”

  He gave me a darkly fierce frown. “I don’t want power over yourr brother. Just leverrage.”

  Suddenly, I wanted to laugh. His frustration was making his accent thicker, his Rs sounding like growls. His anger spiked my own. And again, that quickly, I was aroused. I tossed back my hair and gave him a harder glare. “You want to seduce me to gain leverage over my brother.”

  “I would seduce you anyway.” His jaws ground together. “I do not want to fuck yourr brother. I want to fuck you.”

  My mouth twitched, and I fought not to grin. Pushing him had been fun. Which probably wasn’t very smart. The man had earned a rep for his fists. I guessed it was time to give him a break. I cleared my throat and nodded. “Just so we’re straight. I don’t like being played.”

  A tic pulsed beside his eye. “I am not playing you. I am being straightforward. You arre not.”

  I lifted my brows. “You are wearring my gown.” His hands clenched at his sides. Then he stepped closer, towering over me. “You wanted me to see you.”

  Well, yeah. But I didn’t like that he read me so easily. “I wore what you provided because I thought it was part of the deal.”

  One dark brow rose. “You would sell yourrself to me?”

  “I was ready to do whatever was needed to save Brian’s company. We’re family.” I tilted my chin.

  He gave a sharp shake of his head. “Not blood.”

  I felt me bottom lip push forward. “He’s the only family I have.”

  “And he was only too happy to give you to me,” he said, lowering his face toward mine.

  I swallowed. “Only because he knew…”

  “You arre trrying my patience,” he whispered. “What did he know?”

  God, my nipples hurt they were so tight. “That I want you.”

  His hands shot up and gripped my hips. His face lowered. The moment our mouths touched it was as though a match scratched. We ignited.

  His mouth came down hard, demanding. I opened beneath him and touched his lips with my tongue.

  He muttered something against me, something I didn’t understand but had to be curse, and then his mouth gave, rubbing against mine, suctioning, while his tongue thrust into my mouth.

  His hands rent my gown then glided feverishly over my skin, touching my waist, my breasts, then slipping around to cup my ass. He lifted me, and I wrapped my legs around him. Then he was moving again, toward another buttery-soft couch. When he dropped me onto a seat, he knelt between my splayed thighs. He swiped the last of the gown away and drew back to gaze down at my body. “I knew you werre beautiful. I could see yourr nipples, so dark—the color of rred plums. Yourr cunt…” He placed his hands on my upper thighs and thumbed open my folds. “I will drrink. Then I will fuck.” His cheeks were ruddy when he raised his gaze to mine again. “I will fuck you harrd, Lila Ross.”

  God, I hoped so.

  I fell back against the cushions and placed my heels on the edges. Then I stretched open my thighs, obscenely, willingly giving him access. When his head bend toward my pussy, I thrust my fingers into his thick, dark hair and pulled.

  Laughter gusted against my moist flesh. When his flattened tongue gave me a long slow lick from the bottom of my folds upward, I nearly came out of my skin, but he left me no time to savor the sensation. He sucked on my inner lips, fingered my entrance, then latched his mouth around my clit and drew hard.

  I flew. I knew my body spasmed, fluid spilled. I writhed and lifted my feet to drum my heels against his back.

  When he relented, I fell back. My breaths were broken, ragged. I untangled my fingers from his hair and stared as he lifted his head.

  His expression was feral—his skin tightening over his sharp cheekbones, his dark eyes narrowed. He stood and began flicking open the buttons of his shirt, drew it off, and tossed it aside. He stepped out of his shoes and unbuckled his belt, drew down the tab…

  When he pushed down his pants, I sat forward, waiting, staring as his cock sprang toward me. With a mew, I bent toward him, taking his large cock in my hands, and I rubbed my face on the broad cap. Moisture smeared on my cheeks, and I angled my head to take him in my mouth.

  Again, I made a desperate sound as I sank, jaws widened to consume him.

  His fingers slipped into my hair, firmed against my scalp, and he pulled me closer, pushed me back, then pulled me in again, forcing me to take him so deep he bumped the back of my throat.

  I gagged a little, but when he would have moved back, I relaxed my throat and fought against his grasp to take him deeper.

  He muttered something, his voice rasping, and then he pushed me away. Reaching sideways, he pulled open a drawer on the table beside the sofa and plucked a foiled packet from box. After applying the condom, he stepped out of his pants, bent, and picked me up. As he strode toward the hallway and into his bedroom, I stared at his mouth, his hard jaw. From this angle, I could see a muscle ripple along the edge of his jaw. I was captured. Fascinated by his power. Starved for anything he would give me.

  He lowered me to the bed then gave me no time to move backward. He was on me, a knee between my legs, pushing me toward the middle of the mattress. I left his thick thigh wet.

  Once he had me in the center of his bed, he settled his weight on my body, sinking me into the mattress. I felt small and little overwhelmed. Maybe he read my momentary panic in my eyes, because he bent his head and kissed me. Tenderly.

  “You should be afrraid,” he murmured and kissed my mouth again.

  But there’d been a teasing quality in his tone. I kept open my eyes and stared up at him. When he lifted his head, he muttered then frowned.

  I think I understood his problem. Although his torso was long, so was his cock. The last couple of inches of his thickness rested on mound. “You won’t hurt me,” I whispered.

  His indrawn breath hissed between his teeth. “Don’t speak of it,” his g
round out, his accent making the last word sound “eat”.

  I bit my lower lip to keep from smiling and lowered my gaze to my fingers as I walked them from his upper chest, along his corded neck, to that sexy cleft in his chin. There, I pressed against it, then stuck out my tongue to touch it.

  “You like teasing me,” he growled.

  “Am I teasing?” I asked widening my eyes.

  “You pushed me to angerr. Now I wonderr, did you do it on purrpose?”

  God, those harsh Rs rolled across my skin, lifting goosebumps.

  I pursed my lips and shrugged.

  “Little witch,” he whispered. He pushed up, went to his knees, then patted his thighs. “Come.”

  Eager to straddle him, I got my knees under me and crawled toward him, only when I straightened in front of him, he shook his head. “Turrn arround.” Then he gripped my waist as I clumsily faced away. His grip tightened, and he lifted me.

  Understanding now, I opened my thighs to settle with my knees on either side of his thick, closed thighs. Then he lifted me and shifted slightly. Then I felt him prod against my sex. When he found my entrance, he forced me slowly, inexorably downward until my buttocks were jammed against his lower belly, and his cock was deep inside me. “I want yourr hands behind yourr head,” he said into my ear. “Keep them therre.”

  Behind my head, I threaded my fingers together. My already small breasts were flattened, the distended tips appearing longer. My back was slightly arched. My belly taut. Only then did I notice the mirror across the room from us. His gaze locked with mine in the glass.

  I shivered. The sight was obscene. All of me exposed, including my sex stretched around the thick column stuffed inside me. And my face! My eyelids were lowered halfway, looking sultry, like the exotic whore my brother liked to call me. My brown hair was wild, curling around my shoulders, one lock curled around a beaded tip.

  As I watched, his hands left my waist to sweep along the tops of my thighs. Large hands that smoothed firmly upward but bypassed the part of me that ached the most. He cupped my breasts then kneaded them, gently then more firmly. When he spread his fingers, he trapped the hard tip between his fingers and squeezed. My back arched harder, trying to force his hands to hold me tighter, but he glided them away, over my ribs, my belly, lowering one to the top of my sex.