The Russian's Tenacious Lover (13 page)

He shrugged out of his pants as she was tugging up her dress, then slipping the crotch of her panties aside.

“Quickly, Tom,” she urged, one eye on the door. “Do it quickly!”

As Glynis felt his hardness, she gasped with the thrill of the moment and the pure sensation of desire washing over her, and then they were one, her lower belly on fire, the fury too hard to resist, the whisper of her flesh and the song of her sex calling out to him and overpowering every ounce of common sense.

She was wet, she knew, slick and glistening, and when he entered her, she arched back, then slipped her legs around his waist, urging him on, and then she met him thrust for thrust. As she curled her fingers in his hair, she moaned as his kisses descended on her neck, her throat, then her bosom, nipping at her breasts, drawing them to peaks of pleasure.

Their mouths joined again while their sex connected and he curved inside her, deeper and eliciting more pleasure with each motion, and then she was on the verge and tipping over into the void of the deepest pleasure she’d ever known. Crying out his name, she panted, her eyes misty with desire and pleasure, reflecting her exquisite lust, and only when the lock turned in the door, did they stir from their madness and realize they were in a very compromising position.

Scrambling from the bed, they rolled onto the carpet, then shuffling underneath, still connected, his girth buried deeply inside her belly. As they tried to stifle their ragged breathing, the door swung open, and she could see two pairs of feet appear in the door, a pair of oxfords and a pair of heels.

She frowned as she thought she recognized the woman’s shoes. They were studded with rhinestones, the straps burgundy atop the milky satin of the shoe.

Then the woman spoke, and she could hardly muffle a gasp of shock.

“Oh, Rostislav!” Jenn gasped, and suddenly she saw a dress being flung to the floor, falling in a heap at the girl’s feet, and then the man’s pants followed the same trajectory.

“You are the most wonderful woman I’ve ever met, Jennifer,” Rostislav grunted in a hoarse voice. “How come we never met before, I wonder?”

“I wonder too, Rosti.”

“Is it really true that you’re a virgin?”

“It is,” she said coyly. “You will be my first, Rosti. Do you mind?”

“Do I?” he grunted, then the bed springs creaked as two bodies descended upon it, and Glynis’ mouth opened in an expression of shock. “I will conceive our first baby in this bed, Jenn. The bed of my mama. The same bed I was conceived in myself!”

“Oh, how romantic!” giggled Jenn, then moaned. “Oh, Rosti!”

Suddenly, Glynis felt Thomas stirring inside her once again, aroused by the sounds of lovemaking right above their heads.

She moved with him in the cramped space, and as they ground against each other, their mouths connected, his hands pressing her arms down above her head, their bodies writhing, she let out a soft moan that was muffled by Jenn’s squeaking cries above them. In sync with the young woman’s first climax, she felt the familiar sensations racing through her body as Thomas’ thickness filled her, eliciting so much pleasure she was crested over into the throes of the most powerful climax she’d experienced in a long time.

Then, just when Jenn screeched out her pleasure, she was slammed back into the oblivion of her own, Thomas descending upon her with so much love and lust that she had a hard time remembering why she’d hated him so much in the first place.

“Now I show you my treasure,” a voice above them said.

“Oh, I’d like that, Rosti,” chirped Jenn. “I’d like that very much.”

There was a shuffling of feet, a zipping up of pants and dress, and then the door swung open and closed again, and they were alone once more.

Glynis couldn’t suppress her mirth any longer, and she erupted in a deep guffaw, mimicked only by Thomas’ bark of laughter. Clinging to each other, still pinned beneath the bed, they laughed until tears rolled down their cheeks.

Then, finally, she reluctantly whispered, “Perhaps we should move to the next room?”

“Perhaps we should,” he murmured, kissing her bedewed cheeks as he brushed wet strands from her brow. “You look lovely, Glynis. More lovely than any gem I’ve ever held in my hand.”

“Well, you’re holding this gem, aren’t you?” she whispered back.

He smiled. “Yes, I am, and much to my astonishment.”

“I thought you said you would have me, one way or the other?”

“I was merely expressing a wish, my darling.”

“Pity,” she riposted. “I would have had no other recourse than to throw myself at your mercy.”

They laughed again, then wriggled from under the bed, adjusted their dress, and then Thomas was enveloping her in a gentle embrace, his kiss tender this time, but insistent still.

She loved him, she knew. Too bad he was a thief, and she a cop, and they could never be together, or else this would have been a match made in heaven.

“Come on,” he finally said, taking her hand. “Let’s find your mother’s pearls.”

CHAPTER 24

Arriving in the next room, Glynis saw that it was decorated like a children’s room, a small bunk bed near the door, posters of unknown heroes adorning the walls. She spotted a picture of Yuri Gagarin, the first human in space. She also saw pictures of soccer teams and sports heroes and smiled. “Don’t tell me. Rostislav’s bedroom when he was a boy?”

“He and his brother.” He pointed to the closet. “Search well and search quickly, my darling. We don’t have much time and ten more rooms to go.”

“All right,” she agreed, and started on the bed. Watching the small bunk bed, she hoped Rostislav and Jenn wouldn’t step in here, for there wasn’t enough space to hide underneath.

She tapped the bedposts, but found them massive. No place to hide any jewels in there. Then a cry from Thomas had her look up.

He was kneeling next to a children’s desk. “I think I’ve found something.”

He opened a small drawer. Crouching beside him, she watched with bated breath as he lifted another purple pouch from the recesses of the desk, and opened it. An exquisite silver brooch appeared, inlaid with jade. She bit her lip in disappointment and admiration both.

Whoever this Rostislav character was, he certainly had a keen eye for gems. This one was as extraordinary as the first.

“So this is not his heart, mh?”

“I guess not,” said Thomas, eyeing the gem with a glittering eye.

She folded her hand over his. “Let’s move on, Tom.”

“Yes, let’s,” he agreed. With an effort, he restored the pouch to its hiding place.

Since there was no point staying here, they quickly opened the connecting door to the next room and stepped inside.

Glynis had the distinct impression she was being pulled back in time, the room decorated like the ballroom of a hotel sometime in the seventies, ornate chandeliers adorning the ceiling, paintings of old masters lining the walls, and socialist symbols thrown in for good measure; the place looked like the ballroom of a Moscow hotel during the height of the Communist era.

“What is this place?” she inquired as she glanced around at the opulence and the decadence on display.

“This is where Rostislav asked his first wife for her hand.”

She eyed Thomas curiously. “How do you know so much about the man?”

He merely smiled an enigmatic smile. “I’ll tell you later. First let’s find the pearls, shall we?”

He’d taken her hand, and pressed a kiss to the tips of her fingers. The softness and the tenderness elicited a strong yearning to be back in his arms, but she fought it valiantly. They had a job to do, and not much time to do it in.

They spread out in the wide space, her heels clacking on the parquet floor. She wondered with a frown how they would ever find anything in here. The place was devoid of furniture, the only decoration the crystal chandeliers descending from the ceiling and piecrust tables holding flutes of champagne aloft. As she touched them, she found that the liquid wasn’t real, the glasses glued to the tables. The whole place gave the impression of a ballroom, but the lack of people lent it an eerie sensation.

She wandered the room idly, trying to figure out where the man could have hidden the pearls. Close to his heart, she mused. His first marriage must have been very close to his heart indeed.

She studied the paintings on the walls. Stepping up to the one of the father of the Soviet Union, Vladimir Lenin, she frowned as she noticed Lenin’s left eye was brighter than the other. Drawing up a chair, she precariously balanced on top until her face was level with that of Vladimir. And then she saw it.

“Tom!” she cried. “I’ve found it!”

Thomas, who'd been on his knees tapping the baseboard, joined her. She pointed to Lenin’s left eye, which had been replaced by a gem of about an inch in diameter.

Drawing up another chair, he studied it closely. “Ah. The Petersford ruby,” he murmured after a moment. “Yes. I heard Rostislav had acquired it, though I wasn’t personally involved. A colleague did,” he added when Glynis threw him an accusatory glance.

She sighed, feeling a little deflated. Three rooms down, and they still were no closer to the pearls.

“Nine more rooms to go,” said Thomas, reading her mind with ease. He took her hand and helped her down.

Suddenly, he placed his hand on her waist and led her to the center of the ballroom. “Would you care to dance, my lady?”

She glanced around nervously. “We had better not, Tom. There’s no place to hide.”

His lips descended upon her neck, and she closed her eyes, all thought of prudence wiped from her mind as she allowed him to lead her around the dance floor, dancing to an imaginary orchestra.

He pulled her close, and then they were dancing a heated version of the waltz, their bodies gliding along as if one, melded, and then their mouths connected, and a wild passion overtook them. She couldn’t get enough, offering herself to him once again, the strange mixture of excitement and danger, the risk of being caught adding fuel to the fire. And when finally he led her out of the room and into the next, she sighed as she clung to him, the evening turning out quite different from how she’d envisioned it.

“If Daddy could see me now,” she murmured, then opened her eyes when he didn’t respond, and found herself in yet another bedroom, this one more modern and grand than the one belonging to Rostislav’s mother.

“Where are we?”

“The room where Rostislav’s first son was conceived,” said Thomas, eying her curiously.

“The room closest to his heart, perhaps?” she ventured.

He displayed a faint smile. “Let’s find out, shall we?”

CHAPTER 25

They stood at the heart of the room, watching the space with a scrutinizing eye, and Glynis noticed Thomas was more careful this time, letting his eyes survey the space before deciding on a course of action.

He’d made certain that the doors were closed, though unfortunately there were no keys in the locks. He’d assured her that Rostislav never allowed any guests back here, so they were quite safe and wouldn’t be disturbed.

“Unless he decides to bring Jenn here,” she offered.

“Unless he does just that,” he agreed. Their eyes met, the joy of their shared experience crackling between them once more, eliciting smiles from both. Then they set to work, scanning every inch of the room and trying to find the gem this particular room was hiding.

Close to Rostislav’s heart, Glynis remembered. Where was the heart of this room? The bed, she decided, which is where the miracle of conception had taken place. The sheets were immaculate, the room itself in perfect shape, turquoise prevalent in drapes, carpeting, upholstery and the silk wallpaper. Cupboards, dresser, and closets were a sturdy oak, as was the small side table with a bucket of ice and bottle of Moët & Chandon—probably fake, she reckoned as she touched a hand to it.

She jerked it back at the icy chill of the bottle just when laughing voices became audible outside the door. Her eyes shot to Thomas. In seconds, he’d ushered them into the closet and had closed the door, shaking his head as he lightly cursed under his breath.

Rostislav and Jenn tumbled into the room. Glynis teased open the closet door, and was offered a good view of the lovers. To her surprise, they were both half naked, and judging from their gibbering had imbibed several glasses of bubbly.

“What a lovely room, Rosti!” cried Jenn. “What is it? Your bedroom?”

“This is the room my oldest son was conceived,” he boomed, his face ruddy and his gray hair tousled. He eyed the young woman lasciviously, and jerked her closer, one hand clasping her breast, the other her pert buttock, pressing her against him. “This is the room where we will conceive our first baby!”

“Oh, Rosti,” she squealed, “you do have a way with words, don’t you?”

It seemed Rosti’s record was stuck, Glynis thought. Hadn’t he conceived a baby in the other room as well? Or perhaps he would simply take Jenn on a tour of all twelve rooms. She marveled at the Russian’s incredible stamina.

Then Jenn was flung onto the bed, giggling and tittering as the hefty oligarch descended upon her and started licking his way up from her belly button to the valley between her breasts.

It was more than Glynis could bear, and she closed the door. Turning, her hand found the hard expanse of Tom’s chest. Then she suddenly found herself pressed up against the back of the closet. She moaned as he slid her dress up, revealing her own pert behind, and when he gave it a gentle spank, she gasped, the sounds of lovemaking from the other couple adding to her own desire.

Then she felt his hardness pressed up against the globes of her rear, and slipped her panties down, wanting him so much she found the delay near unbearable.

“Take me, Tom,” she sighed. “Take me now!”

And then he was sliding between her slick folds, and she felt her breath catch in her throat at the sensation of his long girth inching its way inside. Something exploded in her belly, and then she was pressed up against the panel of the closet, the tangy wood scent assaulting her nostrils as his hands cupped her breasts. Rhythmically rocking against her, she was pushed to ever higher plains of ecstasy, and she couldn’t suppress a soft mewling sound escaping her throat as she was lifted up into an ever increasing torrent of heat.