Page 18 of Twisted Fate

I pull out my phone and start researching the activities offered by the resort. Safari excursions, hiking trips, a hot-air balloon ride, private dinners under the stars… there it is. A full-day safari excursion, just the two of us and a guide.

It’s not ideal, but I might be able to find a way to get Konstantin completely alone. I don’t relish the idea of taking out the guide, but if it’s necessary…

I need to finish this. If I can’t do it with sex, then some other means is needed.

And maybe this excursion won’t give me the moment I need, but it might break down some walls between Konstantin and me.

We’ll be almost alone, spending time together.

It might chip away at his self-control, if nothing else.

I book the excursion for tomorrow, then sit on the edge of the bed, my mind still racing.

I should be focused on planning the details of the kill, if I’m fortunate enough to find an opening, but instead, I find myself thinking about Konstantin himself.

About the way he looked at me by the pool, that desire in his eyes warring with his determination to resist me.

Without thinking, my hand brushes against the side of my breast, my fingers skimming under the edge of my bikini top.

My eyes flutter closed, imagining if he’d reached for me, if he’d given in to the kiss.

My thumb skims across my nipple as it stiffens under the fabric, and I bite my lip, stifling a moan as my other hand slides down the taut plane of my stomach.

Is he in the other room, doing the same thing?

He’d been hard out by the pool—even in the dark, the thick ridge standing out against the fabric of his pants had been unmistakable.

He might be too stubborn to give in to his desire for me, but I can picture him in his bed on the other side of the wall, his fingers rapidly undoing his belt to free that thick length, his hand wrapping around?—

My hand dips beneath the edge of my bikini, tugging it to one side as my fingers slide through my folds.

I’m already wet, so much so that I can’t pretend that it’s not from how close I was to Konstantin outside just now, how being that close to him makes me feel.

Heat creeps up my neck at the slick sensation between my thighs, even as my clit pulses with the need for me to slide my fingers just a bit higher.

I shouldn't be this turned on by a man who just rejected me, but there's something about Konstantin's control that makes me want to shatter it—makes me want to see what he'd be like if he finally let go.

I tip my head back, letting my fingers drag higher, up through my soaked folds.

My fingers circle my clit, and I bite back a moan.

I shouldn't be doing this. I should be planning, strategizing, figuring out how to complete my mission. But all I can think about is Konstantin—his broad shoulders, his strong hands, the way his eyes darken when he looks at me. The tattoos that I’ve barely seen, that I’m curious to see the rest of.

That thick, solid length between his thighs that I can so easily picture.

I feel myself clench, imagining all of that pushing inside of me.

If I’m being honest, I’m a little resentful that he’s holding out on me.

It felt like a consolation, a stroke of luck that my final job—and my final seduction—was a man who I’d happily fuck even if he wasn’t a job.

I was looking forward to finding out what Konstantin Abramov looked like naked, what he’d be like in bed.

My clit throbs against my fingertips as I circle it, rubbing faster.

I drop my other hand between my thighs, slipping a finger inside of myself and wishing I’d thought to bring a toy.

I add a second finger, arching into my own touch, and try to imagine that it’s Konstantin’s.

I try to imagine how he might touch me—if he’d be gentle, or rough.

If he’d maintain that iron control that he so prides himself on, or if he’d finally let go, overcome with pleasure.

I wonder if he’d care about making me come, or if his boundaries extend to only getting himself off, the bare minimum required to make an heir, and then leaving me cold. He seems to want to make it sound like that, but I can’t quite bring myself to believe it.

My pace quickens as I gasp, my fingers thrusting faster as I make tight, quick circles around my clit.

I picture Konstantin on his knees in front of me, shirtless, all that ink and muscle on display as he thrusts two broad fingers into me, his head lowering to lap at my clit as I spread my legs for him.

I imagine him stroking his cock with his other hand, pushing himself close to an orgasm, holding it there until I come on his tongue and he can fuck me.

I picture my hand wrapped in that dark blond hair, holding his mouth against my clit as I ride his face?—

I clench my teeth as I come, biting back a cry of pleasure as the orgasm ripples through me, my hips bucking up against my hands. I fall back onto the bed, back arching as I come, rolling my hips against the friction of my fingers as I draw out the orgasm as long as possible.

When it fades, I feel clearer, more able to think.

The frustration has ebbed, replaced with a certainty that I need to finish this sooner rather than later.

This isn't about me or what I want. It’s not about fucking Konstantin or my ego being hurt over his rejection.

It's about completing my mission and getting the information I need.

Tomorrow, I'll take Konstantin on that safari excursion.

I'll get him alone, and if I can find a way, I'll do what I came here to do.

And if a small part of me is disappointed that I'll never know what it would be like to break through that iron control of his, well…

that's a price I'm willing to pay for my freedom.

I fall asleep planning the details of tomorrow's trip, my dreams filled with images of Konstantin—sometimes as my target… sometimes as something else entirely.