The Russian Bodyguard: A Dark Mafia Romance (Krasnov Brothers Book 3)

by Rie Warren

  I might have been riding him, but he was the stallion in this and every other instance.

  Grunts from him, moans from me, his considerable girth claiming my cunt and catapulting me into climax. Sensation blew outward from the ball of need, the detonation of ecstasy as bright as heaven’s light.

  Maksim shoved me forward and climbed right up on top of me, his cock pounding me down into the mattress. He throbbed and swelled and yelled and roared.

  He came, trapping me in his arms with a million flexed muscles while his seed jetted out to bathe any empty space inside of me.

  He tripped me over one last time, holding me clamped to him, beneath him, strung out on him.

  His groan heavy in my ear, his body heavy on mine, we heaved panting breaths together. The sweat of our sexual workout began slowly cooling, and Maksim—god love the man—rocked into me a few more times before pulling that majestic cock from my sated pussy.

  I lay where I’d landed. When I opened my eyes, I saw that my nose was at the foot of the bed, my feet at the top. What a way to end, upside down and thoroughly fucked out.

  Then, as if I weighed no more than a fairy sprite, Maksim lifted me from my prone position. His satisfied chuckle rumbled against my ear.

  Holding me in one arm, he straightened bed things with his other hand.

  I couldn’t just do nothing, so I started nuzzling his throat, nipping at the salty skin on the underside of his stubbled jaw.

  “Get in, troublemaker.” He transferred me back to the bed, but that time at the head with all the pillows once again in their proper place.

  He cruised in right beside me and let out another smug murmur.

  I loved it when he pulled me halfway on top of his ripple-licious chest, easing an arm down my spine to rest his hand on my waist.

  “Did I live up to my vows to obey you?” Peering up, I batted my eyelashes at him.

  He grinned down at me, hugging me closer. “I love you, woman.”

  “I’ll take that as a yes then.”

  27

  Maksim

  Several months later . . .

  * * *

  SASHA LAUGHED, THE SOUND of pure delight pulling a grin from my lips.

  On the back of my Harley Night Train, she clutched me around the torso, clinging tightly. There was more than one reason I enjoyed getting Sasha on my bike. Aside from the way her fingers traced along my abs and her thighs rode up along mine and her tits pressed into my back, I loved the sound of her utter happiness as it spilled from her to me.

  With these weekly forays, I gave my woman a sense of freedom and liberation. Those priceless commodities couldn’t be bought in any store, and there were only so many ways I could make her feel completely unchained from the Bratva’s leash while making sure her life was not at risk.

  Regardless of her status as my wife, as the Zolotov heiress, she’d always be hunted. Hers would never be a normal, regular old existence, and mine never had been.

  My job as husband was protector and provider. Her lover and lastly her master. Although it could be said she’d mastered me in part too.

  Getting out for a ride on the Harley was one sure way to let loose and leave everything behind.

  Almost everything.

  We’d done a half day tour south along the coast, stopping at the most curious thing—a lobster pound. We feasted on the northeastern delicacy of steamed clams and lobster fresh from the ocean. In spite of the fact this was a daytrip for me and Sasha, I’d ordered two SUVs of soldiers to provide cover and covert surveillance. One vehicle cruised ahead of us, the other brought up the rear, and they remained out of sight as long as no danger threatened my wife. I would never let her put her life on the line again.

  Fucking fact.

  Roaring back into the compound that comprised the back lot of The Hammer and the Sickle, I throttled down on the motorcycle. I thought most American vehicles were assembly line shit, but nothing was better than an authentic Harley Davidson. She had been my only baby until Sasha singlehandedly uprooted my life.

  Hitting the kickstand, I held my hand out to Sasha to help her dismount. Then I threw my leg over and hung both our helmets on the ape hangers.

  My eyes roved over the sexy printsessa approvingly. She wore a tight bone-colored leather jacket against the cooler autumn weather and hip-hugging jeans. The leather did nothing to hide the bounty of her breasts, and the snug faded jeans clung to every swell of her figure.

  In fact, there were a lot of similarities between my bike and my woman.

  Her head quirked, coffee brown tresses tumbling around her gorgeous face. “Why are you smiling at me like that?”

  I rubbed a finger beneath my bottom lip. “You remind me of my bike.”

  “You’re seriously comparing all of this” —her hands glided down the sides of her voluptuous body—“to your motorcycle?”

  “You are both curvy and American and . . . fast.”

  Her pale blue eyes flared like heat lightning. “Fast? It took us forever to fuck. And I’m only half American.”

  “My favorite half of all of America.” I grinned. “And you are wholly my mate.”

  “I don’t know whether to be offended or not right now.”

  I hauled her into the V of my spread thighs. “You come out favorably. You know you and the Harley are my two favorite things.”

  “Don’t you just know how to sweep me off my feet?” she huffed out.

  Unzipping the top of her jacket, I licked along the shell of her collarbone. “I could sweep you off your feet right now.”

  Lifting her in my arms, I did just that. Crushing her to my chest, I carried her through the soldiers stationed outside and into the club.

  “Okay, strong guy, I think you’ve proved your point.” She wriggled in my embrace.

  “I’ve never won an argument with you so easily before.”

  “Ah, but we weren’t really fighting.” She planted a long wet kiss on my lips, making it difficult to navigate the narrow staircase.

  Inside the apartment, I held her for a moment longer before setting her on her feet. “I like not fighting with you.”

  “Nothing wrong with a little clash of words to get the blood heated though.” My temptress arched her slim eyebrows at me.

  “I need nothing more than you to get my blood heated, Sashenka.” Drawing her into the cradle of my groin, I dipped my hands to her ass, rocking a solid erection against her.

  Her cheeks flushed as her lips parted. “Mmm. So what do you want to do tonight? Other than me.”

  I chuckled at her clever play on words I’d never be able to compete with.

  Dropping a kiss to the column of her neck, I murmured, “I would like to stay in with you.”

  “Sounds good.”

  Was my party girl actually agreeing to a quiet night in? “Really?”

  “Of course. I’m perfectly happy to homebody it with you, Maksim.” She leaned back, fixing me with a stare. “No more of this You’re as easy to ride as my Harley stuff though—”

  “That is not what I said.”

  “A girl could get a complex. Next thing you’ll tell me is you prefer the smell of motor oil to my perfume.”

  Chuckling at her antics, I nodded. “Good. It is decided. We stay home.”

  “Good. And I’ll cook dinner.”

  “I was going to say that too.” I smirked.

  “Oh, you are so cute.” Sasha popped her hands onto her hips and tilted her head at me. “You still think you’re in charge, don’t you?”

  The woman strutted away before I could tackle her to the nearest flat surface to fuck her on it or against it.

  For her impudence, she would get an extra hard fucking later. I reckoned that was what she was aiming for anyway with her smart-mouthed comment, and I was just the man to give it to her. In fact, it was probably time to administer another spanking or . . . try out the nipple chains I’d purchased.

  Da. I’d pierced Sasha’s nipples as promised and now tha
t they’d healed perfectly, it was time to play.

  Thinking about how red her areolae became when aroused, I quickly poured a drink then made my way to a chair and sat down . . . stiffly. With Sasha busy in the kitchen, humming to herself, I gave my filthy imagination free rein.

  The twin rings sat proudly on her nipples, black gold like her wedding rings with small, dazzling red rubies to either side of little gold balls. In time, I’d buy more elaborate jewelry—long chandeliers to toy with—but tonight I would lick the pretty rings and her perky buds, prod the tip of my tongue through the small circles of the jewelry, bite her.

  I hadn’t tattooed her yet, but that would come soon enough. She would wear my brand in all ways.

  Banging sounds and delicious scents began percolating from the kitchen just across from me, and I enjoyed the sight of her moving around in there, almost as if she’d been domesticated.

  Sasha and domesticated . . . two things that would never completely fit together, and I’d come to grips with the parts of her that wouldn’t be tamed. In fact, against every male instinct that urged me to keep her tied up and locked in the house, I allowed her to pursue a modified version of EMT training.

  She had to make do with courses online. No way would I let her attend face-to-face in the flesh instruction—for her to be out in public without me or a heavy soldier presence would always be out of the question. But, upon an agreement made between me and Yury, a small skills lab had been built at the estate. And there, she did receive one-on-one guidance from the surgeon and nurse who’d been put on permanent Bratva payroll after they’d cared for her injuries.

  Shaking me from my musings, Sasha made her way to me with a small platter of golubsty, my favorite Russian cabbage and beef wraps.

  My eyes were more occupied with her hip-swinging gait than the edible fare she hand delivered.

  She slid the tray onto the table beside me then lowered herself to my lap. Sitting sideways with her knees curled up against my ribs and her breasts dancing along my chest, she reached for one of the savory wraps.

  “Want one?" she held the morsel in front of my mouth.

  “Yes.”

  Instead of feeding me, the brazen woman popped the tidbit between her lips, moaning as she chewed.

  I gnashed my teeth at her, and she giggled before serving a golubsty to me. My hand moved along her thigh as she ate another then fed me one more too.

  “You know, we need a bigger place,” she mentioned ever so casually.

  I squinted at her. “This is why you butter me up tonight?”

  “No.” She drew back defensively.

  “I’m just kidding.”

  Her unsubtle hint about needing more space reminded me of the beginning, when she’d first come here very much against her will and pointed out that we needed a proper table instead of just the bare bones of the bar and the stools.

  Since then, she’d bought a table that suited her high standards as well as lamps, accessories, drapes, area rugs.

  Still . . .

  “I am aware. This apartment was too small to begin with.” It might’ve been just fine for me, but . . . “You have too many clothes,” I teased again.

  For once, Sasha didn’t react to my slight taunt. She sat there, biting her bottom lip, and this rare serious side to her had me concerned.

  “What is it?”

  She grabbed my hand and placed my palm on her belly.

  Her voice emerged quiet and earnest. “We’re going to need a much bigger place.”

  I frowned at her as seconds elapsed. Then the full implication hit me like a whack to the side of the head.

  “You’re pregnant?” Sudden shock flattened me. “But you’re on the pill.”

  “I stopped that nonsense.”

  “You did not tell me?” My eyebrows pulled inward.

  “I . . . I thought you’d be happy.” Quieter even than before, her voice warbled.

  Shaking my head, I sputtered, “But there are . . . risks. Pregnancies are dangerous and—”

  “Don’t spiral out on me, Maksim,” she said sharply.

  I quickly swallowed the rest of my vodka, aware that the very next words I said would be as indelible as the ink on my skin. I’d thought of getting Sasha pregnant the day Saoirse was born. But the reality had far reaching implications.

  My voice grew grim, my mouth turned down. “I will not be a good papa.”

  How could I be?

  I’d never known the happy family unit. I had been brought up in the streets, murdered my first target when I was still a child.

  “Oh, Maksim.” Sasha clasped both sides of my face, her burning bright gaze finding my dubious eyes. “Don’t say that. The past is what happened. The future is what we make it.” She curved her arms around my neck, hiding her face in the crook of my throat. “I want to be a mother so much, especially because I never really knew mine. We won’t be like that. It won’t be like that. Please give us a chance.”

  My heart thudded in my chest, and my frozen posture melted.

  I curled all the way around her as if I could form the human barrier that would keep her . . . and our baby safe.

  “You will be a wonderful mother,” I whispered against the crown of her head.

  Yes. I could see it. She’d be doting and always have humor and wit on her side. She would love without regard to herself the same way she did now when it came to others.

  Sasha would be the fiercest, a force to be reckoned with, like a fearsome mama bear.

  Her head lifted, those diamond-like eyes watery. “And you’ll be an awesome dad. I know it.”

  That I wasn’t so sure about my own capabilities in the parenting department must’ve shown on my expression, because she said, “Maybe you don’t love easily.”

  I grumbled something.

  “But when you do, it’s with your whole heart, Maksim.”

  Awe for this woman surged through me, and I leaned in to meld our lips together.

  No sooner than our tongues touched, I drew back quickly. “Does this mean I have to be gentle with you when we fuck?”

  She laughed. “Lord, I hope not.”

  Good.

  Then I thought of something else and slyly mentioned, “You know you cannot name her after yourself if it’s a girl.”

  “I know.” Sasha sighed dramatically. “Damn Jo for already thinking of that.”

  We chuckled together before something else abruptly niggled at me.

  I shifted her from my embrace to glower. “And you let me take you out on the bike today in your condition?”

  “My condition?” Rolling her eyes, she flipped around and planted her ass fully on my lap. “This isn’t the Dark Ages, and women can do basically everything when they’re pregnant. Don’t you dare think this is your excuse to finally keep me completely under lock and key, buster.”

  “Can’t say I didn’t try,” I mumbled.

  “So we’re good with this?”

  As if embarking on starting a family was as simple as choosing a new bedspread . . . but things like living life to the fullest had always come much easier to Sasha.

  When I remained silent, she must’ve thought I was having second second thoughts.

  Sasha turned up the wattage of her smile. “Look at it this way. We’ve got everything going for us and now a baby on the way! Papa promoted you hardcore by giving you full control of The Hammer, right? So you have his epic trust and respect.”

  As she rambled on, I simply watched her—so full of life she glowed from within—and I let myself wallow in this immediate, immense happiness.

  Sasha dragged a single fingertip along my jawline, bringing me back to her. “It’s what you always wanted. A proper role in the Bratva, I mean.”

  “That’s what I thought too.”

  Her lips pursed. “What do you mean?”

  “Now I think”—I pulled her right into me, my attention unwavering—“I only ever wanted you.”

  Her pretty features softening, she s
ighed out, “Maksim . . .”

  In fact, I rued one specific missed opportunity very much.

  Again, Sasha read my expression and asked, “What?”

  “I do have one regret.”

  “How much time we wasted being bitchy to one another when we could’ve been getting busy?” She fell back to her usual teasing tone.

  “No. Da. I mean—” With a deep chuckle, I raked my fingers through my hair. “I wanted to be the one to undress you from the wedding gown.”

  Her smile slow and sensual, and the light in her eyes melding into something completely carnal, she pressed her bottom onto my insistent hard-on.

  “Should I put it on now?” she asked in a smoky tone.

  A great bolt of lust raced to my cock.

  “Yes,” I answered in a husky voice.

  “Kinky,” she murmured with twinkling eyes. “I like it.”

  But she didn’t make it halfway across the room before she spun back. “Dinner’s almost ready. Maybe we should—”

  “I don’t care. I’m only hungry for you.”

  She considered me, biting down on her bottom lip. “Okay then.”

  With a flip of her hair, she swished seductively to the bedroom, leaving me desperate with anticipation.

  Gowns took a long time to put on. Sasha would draw out the temptation even more. She had me on the hook, twisting with lust, and she knew it.

  Half an hour passed before I heard her.

  “Maksim?” she called out from the bedroom. “Will you help me?”

  Those specific words in her sultry tone were so close to what she’d said the morning of Arkady’s wedding when she needed me to zip the back of her dress.

  Another fast jolt of arousal made my skin prickle and my cock lurch.

  I shoved off my boots and socks. I tugged off my shirt and threw it to the floor. I undid the top of my jeans to give my dick a little bit of breathing space.

  Then I went to her.

  My wife.

  Seeing her, my hands shook now as they had that day at Yury’s mansion.

  Sasha faced away from me but was reflected in the tall mirror. The back of the sexy, elaborate gown splayed open all the way to the dip and hollow of her spine.