Family Jewels (24 page)

“What happened to them once they were liberated?”

“The Steinbrunns accepted refuge in Britain and settled in Wales. After the war ended, Mikhail and Franjeska returned to the town of Yakutia in Siberia. Mikhail had nerve damage to his hands and feet from frostbite and wasn’t able to work. Franjeska took care of him, earning income as a housekeeper. A few years later she became pregnant by the married man who employed her. When the wife of this man found out, she made a public spectacle of Franjeska as a common whore. This cast great shame on Franjeska and she was unable to find other work. She named her illegitimate son Matthias. Shortly after that, Mikhail encouraged his sister to travel with the baby to the United States with him.”

Cynthia’s throat tightened. “And what about Josef? Even though he stole the money, did he ever confess to the murder?”

“We’ll never know. Josef was separated from his siblings upon their capture by SS officers and sent to the Treblinka death camp. He’d tried to escape after two days. Nazi guards shot him in the back. He died on top of the fence, tangled in the razor wire. The guards left his body hanging there for weeks, to rot and be a warning to other prisoners.”

She squeezed her eyes shut. “Oh, God, that’s awful.” Hearing of Josef’s violent death while trying to escape something as atrocious as the death camp didn’t atone for the bad deeds he committed on the Steinbrunn family. But no matter what his crimes, his death was gruesome.

“Want to hear more, or had enough?” Trevor asked, finishing his wine.

“Uh, no. I appreciate you telling me the story so openly. Thank you for trusting me with it. But, that’s enough for now. I think I have more than enough of this history to muddle through. I see why the Steinbrunn heirs were so eager to recover their stolen family fortune. I’m glad they survived and now they’ve got what was rightfully theirs.”

Trevor stared into his nearly empty wineglass, a thoughtful frown marring his brow. “Do you understand now why I couldn’t let you know what those numbers represented?”

She smiled. “You thought if I knew there was an unclaimed bank account worth more than one hundred and thirty million euros that I’d try to claim it?”

His eyes glittered. He said nothing.

“I don’t think I would. There can be nothing but trouble associated with that kind of money. I wouldn’t even know what to do with a million euros, let alone more than a hundred and thirty million! Besides, the money didn’t belong to me to begin with.”

Trevor’s smile warmed his calculating look. “I thought so but I’m very happy to hear you say that.”

He set his glass down, took the empty one from her numb fingers and set the fragile goblet beside his on the table. He snuggled close and began caressing her face with a finger.

“Shall I give you something else to think about now?”

She kissed his fingers when his hand moved closer to her lips. “Yes. Otherwise, I’m going to have nightmares about death camps and—”

“Shh,” he whispered in her ear. “We haven’t had dessert yet. I think you’ll like it.”

“You like ice cream too?”

“I love it.” He glanced up, his gaze half-lidded and sensual. “And I know exactly how I want it served.”

She shivered from the intensity of his gaze. “I can’t wait to indulge, Agent. Serve it up.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

He uncuffed Cynthia just long enough to undress her. She’d come willingly into the largest bedroom, explaining that this had been her parents’ room. The chamber was dark, lit only by a slant of light from the hallway. Cynthia wasn’t protesting as much after he kissed her again, not even after he’d made it pretty clear that he planned to cuff both her hands to the headboard.

Her beautiful gray eyes widened and the fluttery pulse at the base of her throat jumped wildly when he clicked the second handcuff into place. She lay with her arms stretched over her head. Her full breasts, crowned by dusky pink nipples, bobbed with each rapid breath she took. Cynthia appeared not quite certain what to do next but more than a little excited by whatever he planned to do to her. The fact that she trusted him this much both thrilled and amazed him.

He watched her squirm a little, jerking her legs back and forth across the quilt. Her impatient kicks gave him tantalizing peeks at her glistening pink pussy.

God save him
! He could smell her sweet heat.

He braced himself for patience and a long night of loving. First, he planned a feast for their senses. He wanted Cynthia totally crazed with the need for sexual release before he plunged into her tight body this time. He wanted her to beg him to take her again, to need him as badly as he needed her.

When he produced two soft kitchen towels for her ankles, she made a gurgling sound deep in her throat. He wished he’d had time to plan ahead and buy silk scarves to tie her with. She spread her legs willingly and allowed him to tie each ankle with the plain terrycloth towels. Once her legs were spread wide and secure, he took a moment to gaze over the beauty of her body. His balls throbbed painfully at the sight of her pouting, wet slit. Unable to resist any longer, he grasped his stiff cock and slowly stroked himself.

She watched. Her breath hitched, her eyes grew wide. It was all he could do not to fuck her quickly right then.

Stop
! He would spill himself now if he didn’t. Not how he wanted to start the night.

“You’re enjoying this?” he asked.

“Yes.” It came out barely as a whisper between her breathing.

“Have you played bondage games before, Cyn?” He circled the delicate bone of her ankle with his finger, just below the cloth knot.

“No.”

“Why not?”

She licked her lips and swallowed hard. “I never could find a man who wanted to play. Or anyone I could trust enough. I trust you, Trevor.”

A spiral of warmth curled up inside his heart. He inched his fingers up her leg going to the inside, drawing small circles on her skin until goose bumps rose in the wake of his touch. “That’s good to hear, darling. You remember our safe word, right?”

She swallowed again. “Yes, I remember.”

“Good. Now, relax for a few minutes. There’s only one more thing we need.”

He made a hasty retreat to the kitchen, his dick pointing the way. He opened the freezer, picked up the chocolate ice cream that Cynthia had purchased and hurried back to the bedroom. Grinning from ear to ear, he set the container on the nightstand, intent on feasting his eyes again on her splayed body.

Trevor balked at the unexpected guest. Her cat lay curled beneath her left armpit, green eyes mere slivers in a contented white face. If cats could smile, this one surely did. The animal snuggled there as if he planned to spend the night against his mistress’ soft, naked skin.

“Oh, no,” Trevor chuckled. “I don’t think so, mister. Out with you.” He pointed to the door. The cat merely meowed at him.

Cynthia giggled. “I’d help but…” She wiggled her fingers, indicating her tied-up status.

Trevor reached over, scooped the lazy feline up and carried him to the hall. “Out.” He shut the bedroom door.

Silvery light spilled into the bedroom from a full moon. The room seemed brighter, yet more mysterious now than with the hall light on.

“What do you plan to do with that?” she asked, eyes on the ice cream and smiling as if she guessed his intentions.

His blood raced, eager to get onto the bed with her and begin. “I’m having a little dessert. And if you’re a very good girl, I might let you have a taste.”

“I don’t see a spoon. But I have a suggestion for what you could use.” She glanced pointedly down at his cock.

“That has possibilities,” he said, tilting an eyebrow at her. “Especially since it would be going into your beautiful mouth. But right now, I have something else in mind.”

Trevor picked up the carton and very carefully straddled Cynthia’s waist, keeping his balls off the enticing softness of her lower belly. He popped the lid off the ice cream carton.

“God, Trevor,” she gasped, pulling against her restraints. “You’re gonna kill me, I swear it.”

“Anticipation is everything, darling. You’ll not die from such sweet torture.” He poked his finger into the ice cream, testing its texture. “Did you know that the Romans used the bodies of nude female slaves to serve food to guests?”

“What? Oh, so now I’m a serving platter?”

“Mmm and a more beautiful and delicious dish I’ve never found. It was a totally hedonistic practice. One that I’ve always fantasized about. Drinking wine from your body our first night together only whetted my appetite for more, Cyn. I’m going to make you burn with desire, sweat through one orgasm after the next until you’re screaming my name.”

She bucked her hips up, pushing her belly against his balls. Her breathing had already increased and he hadn’t even done anything yet.

“Trevor, please.”

“Patience, darling.” He took a taste test, licking the frozen chocolate off his finger while she watched with wide, hungry eyes. She’d chosen a good quality ice cream. “Excellent. Hungry?”

She nodded eagerly. Trevor loaded his thumb with the cold, creamy treat and placed a tiny dab on her lips. She licked it off, moaned with delight and sucked his thumb into her mouth. He let her swirl her hot little tongue around his thumb for a few seconds.

Like he’d done with the wine, he dotted ice cream onto the peaks of her nipples. Then he scooted his body down and placed more into her navel. Trevor lowered his mouth to lick the sweet, creamy treat off her pebbled skin. Cynthia’s moans grew louder. She squirmed and shivered under each touch of his tongue, every nibble from his teeth on her quivering skin. He sucked each hard nipple into his mouth, taking more of her plump, soft breast inside to warm it and lave her soft flesh with his tongue. She pulled against her handcuffs, moaning and sighing and struggled to move her legs.

“Sweet heaven,” he groaned in between curling his tongue around one pert nipple again. “The Romans were so right.”

“About,” she panted, “what?”

“A man could dine off a woman’s lush curves and never feel full. I don’t think I’ll ever have enough of you, Cynthia Lyons.”

She went from writhing and moaning beneath him to completely still, not even breathing. Had she spoken the safe word they’d agreed upon and had he not heard her say it? He sat upright and set the ice cream aside. “Cyn? What’s wrong?”

She tucked her chin to her chest and opened her eyes. The moonlight made them luminous and very dark, like swirling black smoke. “Nothing’s wrong, Trevor. I just want to know if you meant what you said, or are you just saying that in the heat of passion?”

His heart thudded heavy inside his chest. It felt peaceful and right to admit this to her. He reached up and swiped a strand of long, silky hair off her forehead. “I meant every word. What do you think about that? Could you ever get enough of me?”

Slowly, she shook her head, her eyes locked with his. “No. You intoxicate me, Trevor.”

He traced his finger down the line of her nose, across her lips, the point of her chin and down the soft curve of her throat. He let his finger rest on her pulse there. Her skin was warm beneath the cold, silvery light cast by the moon. “All I can think about is how to lure you to my bed, how to keep you there.”

Cynthia smiled, flashing her white teeth. “You don’t need to lure me to your bed, Trevor. I love what you do to me. I love how you make me feel with every tiny touch, every kiss, every hard thrust inside me. So, what do you think about that?”

“I think,” he said, kissing his way across her cheek to her lips, “I should stop talking about making love to you and just do it.”

She met his mouth eagerly, her slick little tongue already dancing out to engage his. She tasted of wine and chocolate ice cream and the promise of a lifetime of passion.

Cynthia wiggled her hips beneath him, searching for the heat of his cock with her hot, naked pussy. Trevor repositioned himself to kneel with the ice cream carton between her spread legs. A long, hard shiver raced through her body when he let the cold carton touch her thigh. She tossed her head back against the pillow and groaned, “Oh, no. Oh God, I’m gonna die.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

Trevor’s first touch at the juncture of Cynthia’s thighs made her gasp and jerk her hips up like a wild animal trying to escape a trap. She sucked in a long, hissing breath.

He
’
s not going to hurt me
.

When she relaxed again, he spread ice cream up and down her wet slit. She pressed her lips together to keep from crying out like a cat in heat. The cold dessert melted on contact with her skin and sent tingles straight to her clit. She stiffened her legs and pointed her toes.

“Hold very still for me, darling.” He scooped more ice cream onto his fingers. “I have a special treat for you.”

Cynthia fought the urge to buck beneath him. The idea that he’d made dessert out of her body and planned to eat her with his talented tongue, teeth and lips drove her to the very brink of sanity.

She was wildly aroused by their little bondage game, too. Being at his mercy, her body totally exposed to him and unable to move her arms and legs, thrilled her like nothing else. She was his captive, tied to the bed to do with as he pleased. Oh and how he teased…

“Trevor, please.”

“Please what, darling? I like it when you beg for me. Tell me what you want.”

She bit her bottom lip, tugging against her restraints. “I want you, Trevor.”

He chuckled, trailing his fingers in circles around her pussy but not quite touching the heated flesh at the center of those throbbing lips.

“You have me, darling. What do you want me to do to you?”

Cynthia groaned in frustration. “Anything. Lick me. For God’s sake just fuck me!”

“With pleasure,” he growled.

She braced, anticipating the first probing touch of his hot tongue into her eager vagina. Cynthia shrieked from the sudden icy cold that plunged inside her core. Her feminine muscles flexed in protest.

“Trevor! Did you just put ice cream inside me?”

“I most certainly did. Now, I feast.”

He licked her inner thighs with long, broad strokes. Tiny rivulets of melted ice cream and her own hot juices trickled down the delicate line to her ass. She clenched her buttocks together. Goose bumps danced on her skin. Her pussy felt like it was on fire from the double torture of ice cream and his hot, teasing tongue.