Nikolai

by Shandi Boyes

  You saw what happened the last time she tussled with a mafia prince. Do you really want to put her through that again?

  The anger surging through me has me taking it out on the wrong person. Justine doesn’t seem to mind. The instant my teeth scrape her bottom lip, the warmth stealing my senses scolds my cock with its fiery heat. My bite isn’t painful, but it’s a clear sign I’m pulling her into a world as violent and bloody as the one she’s endeavoring to save her brother from.

  When Justine responds to my viciousness in a favorable manner, I slide my tongue between her parted lips. Her moan blindsides me, as does the taste of her mouth. Not an ounce of the vodka she downed last night is noticeable. She tastes sweet and innocent, an odd but highly craved banquet.

  “Ah, fuck, woman, I didn’t possibly think you could get any tastier,” I growl over her lips before dueling my tongue with hers.

  I kiss her almost violently. It’s a filthy kiss that is as ravishing as it is arousing. It tells her everything I plan to do to her body, and precisely how I am going to do it.

  Justine returns my kiss just as messily. She doesn’t just use her mouth to kiss, though. She uses her entire body. Her soft curves caress my hard bumps, and her hands are as adventures as her tongue. The sexy movements of her lips steal the air from my lungs as quickly as they revitalize the oxygen in my veins.

  For a woman who seems more shy than outlandish, she sure knows how to kiss. I am an adrenaline junkie. I’ll do anything for a high, but this is by far the most addictive thing I’ve ever done.

  Needing to breathe before I pass out, I drag my tongue along the roof of Justine’s mouth before tugging on her lower lip with my teeth. They’re swollen with need, although nowhere near as thick as they’ll be after she sucks my cock.

  “What drug could make you forget that?”

  “None,” Justine replies without pause for consideration. She’s as breathless as me, and just as sweaty, but it has nothing on the look she’ll wear once I claim her as mine.

  “Then there’s your answer, Ahren.” My eyes float between her hooded-gaze and her sexy-as-fuck lips. “If a kiss can make you forget your own name, imagine what a night of fucking will do.”

  The sharp breath she sucks in is more revealing than her wholesome eyes. She may have tussled with a mafia prince before, but she’s never been fucked by one.

  The pink hue on her cheeks shifts from excited to embarrassed when I track my finger over the bite mark in her shoulder. “You ran the gauntlet instead of running to Dimitri’s bed.” I keep my tone calm and without anguish even though I’m feeling anything but. I’ve heard of the Petretti’s doing stunts like this before; if you deny them, you’ll face their wrath, but this is the first time I’ve seen the results firsthand. “He’s the reason you’re marked.”

  Carnage is set to prevail when Justine shakes her head. “Dimitri isn’t to blame for my scars. He let me leave when I turned down his proposal. It was his father who chose my exit.”

  My jaw firms as a Russian curse word seeps through my clenched teeth. I want to kill the man who hurt her. I want to maim him as much as he maimed her, but I’m too late. Rico beat me to him. Col is already dead.

  When Justine’s watering eyes lock with mine, my anger is replaced with an emotion much more ferocious and powerful. “You have my word nothing like that will ever happen to you again, Justine. I’ll slit the throat of any man who dares look at you sideways. Family or not.”

  As the scent of her arousal lingers in the air, her jaw falls open. “Thank you.”

  I’d rather her praise arrive without a handful of tears.

  The stark contrast between our skin coloring is unmissable when I wipe away a tear sitting high on her cheek. The warmth creeping across her face when I lower my attention to her lips will take care of the wetness my thumb missed. She’s as hot now as she was when we were kissing, and her pulse is just as erratic.

  “I want you, Ahren.” My voice is so low, even if the devil has caught his first sunrise, he won’t be able to hear me. “I’ve never met a woman like you. You’re smart, beautiful, and you don’t scare easily. I’m not gonna lie, I’m as fascinated as fuck to see how you thrive when you regain your confidence.”

  A dumb fuck could misconstrue my statement as a ploy to get her between my sheets. It’s lucky Justine is smarter than the average person. She heard the honesty in my comment. She sees the truth in my eyes. Nothing I said was about bedding her. It was in response to the new fearlessness in her eyes. The fighter I’ve seen from day one.

  I thought I ended my life a second after I pledged to protect her. I was wrong. The wildness inside me will never be tamed because it is the wildness that Justine craves.

  She just doesn’t know it yet.

  “Is that why you’re doing this? To help me regain my confidence?”

  I throw my hips forward, grinding my thickened shaft against her greedy cunt as well as my chest is crushing her tits. “Nah. This is all for me. I’m so worked up, I’ll soon fucking explode. That’s why I’m pinning you to your bed, stroking you with my cock.” I’m not joking. I’m wound up so fucking tight, I’m certain I have the worst case of blue balls known to mankind. “It’s got nothing to do with building your confidence, Ahren, and everything to do with me and my insatiable desire to have a part of you wrapped around my cock.”

  My filthy words turn her on almost as much as the rim of my knob stimulating her aching clit. She’s wet for me. The dampness seeping into the crotch of my jeans is resounding proof of this, much less her intoxicating scent.

  While rubbing my cock against Justine’s heated center at a deliberately slow pace, I angle my head to the side in preparation to reacquaint our lips. Giving zero-fucks about the world I was born in, and the cruelness of my consequences, I lower my head until Justine’s bare lips are within an inch of mine.

  Just as our mouths brush, my endeavor to drag her into the madness with me is interrupted by the shrill of a cell phone. It’s loud enough for Justine to see the trap I laid out for her, and is a quick reminder to me that she’s not the game I’m hunting—yet.

  “You should probably get that.”

  Frustration deflates my cock. I’m so over the game I’ve been playing since I was born, I’m tempted to walk straight up to Vladimir and snap his conniving neck. I would if his murder wouldn’t have me stood down just as quickly. The Popov entity, along with many other mafia sanctions, have rules they must follow—rules that protect Vladimir no matter how heinous his crimes. If I want his throne, I must take him down the right way. Regretfully.

  “It’s been ringing nonstop all night.”

  Knowing full well who is calling and why, I press my lips to the edge of Justine’s mouth before unpinning her from the mattress by rolling off it. The fury making me sweat all over cools when Justine whimpers at the loss of my contact.

  “Soon, Ahren. Very soon,” I promise.

  When she watches me stalk to the door in silence, like the image of me leaving is unbearable for her, I slow my pace. I get great pleasure knowing she is as disappointed about our interruption as me. I also like how she can’t help but want me even knowing I come with a whole heap of trouble.

  It’s the same for me.

  When we finally get together, it will be fucking explosive. Just not all the fireworks will occur in the bedroom.

  My already slow trek across the worn floorboards slow even more when a snippet of pink catches my eye. With my cock ruling my head the past thirty minutes, I forgot about the neon-pink yoga pants I used to cover the camera in Justine’s room last night. To my men, covering a camera lens is the equivalent of hanging a do not disturb sign on a hotel room door. To Vladimir, it will be a mark of disrespect.

  You can’t live vicariously through your children when they shut down the live feed.

  While imagining Vladimir’s disapproval, I pivot around to face Justine. The arrogance on my face slips away when I drink in her wide and needy eyes.

&nbs
p; Vladimir isn’t the only one being taunted.

  I’m being slowly marched back to hell as well.

  Ignoring my cock’s desire to be out of my jeans and sunk into Justine’s fragrant smelling cunt, I give Justine the unified signal for silence. Her brows furrow when she takes in me twisting my lips with my thumb and index finger, but she nods all the same.

  When I point to the still covered surveillance camera above my head, the confusion on her face switches to understanding.

  “Trust me?”

  Cockiness pelts through me with enough intensity to cause a goddamn motherfucking earthquake when she nods her head without pause for consideration. Trust is a valuable commodity, so I wasn’t anticipating to have hers just yet. Don’t get me wrong; I’m pleased, but I’m also wary. I’m not a trustworthy guy because it isn’t something I’ve ever been given, so I don’t understand the repercussion I could face if I lose her trust.

  Saving my hang-ups for a more appropriate time, I stray my eyes to the double glass door of Justine’s balcony. When she follows the direction of my gaze, I whisper, “Outside.”

  She once again nods, acknowledging she understands that these walls have ears capable of undoing the little bit of good I did last night.

  When Justine’s cell phone commences hollering again, I hit her with a frisky wink before throwing open her bedroom door. “I’m going to take a shower. Perhaps you’ll join me after your call.”

  With how hard her nipples bud from my comment, I can only hope she’ll take me up on my offer multiple times once we’re no longer being scrutinized by a man I’ll hate more than I will ever respect.

  Chapter Eighteen

  When the soap slips from my hand, I curse it as I did Roman’s smug grin when Dok assured me Justine’s faded memories have nothing to do with her fall, and everything to do with her mixing anti-anxiety medication with alcohol.

  Roman cited the same thing when he busted me sneaking out of Justine’s room, but since he isn’t a doctor, his opinion didn’t count.

  My veins will run dry before I’ll ever admit I was wrong, so instead of telling Roman Dok agreed with his assessment, I told him to clean up the mess the Popov housemaids missed before entering the bathroom to have a quick shower. I don’t want to wash Justine’s scent off my skin, but I need to eradicate the funk halving its allure.

  So much shit is happening right now—fucked up crap that should have my cock taking a leave of absence, but no matter how often Roman warns me I’m walking into a tornado with my eyes closed, I can’t get the fucking thing to stand down.

  Even now, after placing myself on a flimsy limb to have Justine’s brother transferred to the medium-security prison Justine mentioned last night, I’m as hard as a fucking rock.

  Maddox’s transfer is costing me millions, but I’m not worried about the money. Evoking the favor I did is unheard of in my industry, even more so when you doing for a man who has ties with your rivals.

  Justine thinks Maddox is innocent, however, Roman’s research the last two days reveals his record isn’t as squeaky clean as he wants his family to believe. He wasn’t just cruising by the Petretti compound and happen to stumble upon his sister’s cries for help. He was there, as a participant, only switching from perpetrator to a savior once he realized who was being punished.

  He did what needed to be done. He fell at the heel of a man undeserving of his respect, but what he did after that is where he went wrong.

  If you take anyone’s debt, no matter how small the liability, you’ll be expected to repay the debt in full.

  Maddox only kept one side of the deal.

  He killed for Col… but he failed to pin his victim’s murder on the appropriate person.

  Even with Col dying years ago, until the debt has been fulfilled as cited, Maddox will remain indebted to the Petretti’s, which, in turn, means his sister is as well. The thought alone should be enough to soften my cock, but, alas, just like I know Justine’s debt won’t remain the Petretti’s for long, so does my cock.

  The situation goes from bad to worse when I replace the insubordinate bar of soap with the shower puff hanging on the outdated faucet. I didn’t add any bodywash to the squishy pink puff. I didn’t need to. The suds coating my skin aided in its glide over my body, much less the pre-cum seeping from my cock.

  Instead of the shower puff washing Justine’s scent from my skin, it coats me in it. The scent of her floral shower gel mixed with my manly, virile smell has my cock standing to attention as painfully as her delicious mouth.

  I could shut down the faucet and pretend my nuts aren’t aching. I could act as if the bathroom has a surveillance device like every other room in Justine’s apartment. But instead of doing either of those things, I wrap my hand around my cock and give it a long, strangled tug, pissed I’m stroking one out in the shower like I’m twelve, but loving the responsiveness of my dick.

  Even by my own hand, this is the best hand job I’ve ever been given.

  As my tongue darts out with the hope of sampling a smidge of Justine’s mouth on mine, I pump my fist in rhythm to the pulse I felt between Justine’s legs. It’s a brutally fast pace that would only feel better if each stroke was piercing my cock’s head between Justine’s plump lips. Or better yet, her no doubt tight cunt.

  I increase the pressure of my thumb on the vein feeding my cock as a zinging sensation roars through my veins. My cock throbs with want, its need seeping from the crown. After balancing my empty hand on the dated yet spotlessly clean tiled wall, I lower my head under the stream of water. It flattens my hair on top of my head, glides over my tattooed pecs, then puddles around my fist sliding up and down my shaft.

  The fast, frantic pace I stroke my cock has me chasing release even quicker than I did the first time I fucked a girl. I picture Justine standing in front of me, her fingers sunk into the glistening slit between her legs, her eyes closed. She’ll match the strokes of my cock pump for pump, finger-fucking herself as erratically as her cunt is dying to suck at my dick. I can imagine how the steam from the shower would increase her scent—so sweet yet oh-so- tempting. She’d come with a whispered roar like she did on the door, her knees buckling a mere second before I transfer her weight onto my cock.

  When I moan, it comes out with a growl. The image in my head is so erotic, my balls tuck in close to my body, preparing for release. While increasing the speed of my pumps, I close my eyes, enhancing the intoxicating visual gripping every inch of my sack. Justine is beautiful as she is, but the image of her peering up at me like she did after we kissed took her sexiness off the Richter scale. There’s not a number high enough to describe the sleepy sex-kitten look her eyes get when she’s on the cusp of ecstasy.

  A kiss brought her to the brink of insanity.

  A teeny tiny inconsequential kiss.

  My kiss.

  I thought the drugs my crew sell were the most potent on the market. I had no fucking idea. Lust is more dangerous than any of the white powders I sell, and that’s before you add Justine’s cock-thickening body into the mix.

  I’ve only seen her in a bra and a pair of panties, but the imagine was enticing enough I’m stroking my cock in the shower instead of taking my funk out on my crew’s many whores as I would have only two days ago.

  My change in attitude is also why Justine’s apartment is silent. The women I usually go through like underwear were the reason I kicked my men out a little after two o’clock this morning. They can be upset about me saying no, and be opposed to the idea of me being a one-woman man, but they sure as fuck don’t get to ignore a direct order.

  I told them no, I told them I wasn’t interested, but the instant I tiptoed out of Justine’s room, they were on me like the tent my cock was pitching in my jeans was for their shelter.

  It fucking wasn’t.

  Even now, while rubbing one out in the shower like a loser, their fake tits and surgically altered lips aren’t being featured. All I can see is Justine. Her eyes. Her knee-bowing body.
Her kissable, pouty mouth I can’t wait to smear my cum over.

  The thought of her peering up at me with my spawn on her lips is my undoing. I tighten my grip around my shaft before dragging my hand all the way to the base. My cock pulsates in my palm as it brutally shreds me of any dignity I have left. I come with a growl, my entire body spasming as thick white seed pumps out of the crest of my cock. It’s a never ending orgasm, the backlog of cum compliments to a thirty-six hour hard-on. It feels fucking great, even with it occurring without an audience this time around.

  As the water jetting out of the showerhead cools, I loosen my grip on my throbbing shaft. I don’t fully free it from my grip. I give it another three gentler strokes, ensuring not only is every drop of my spawn pumped from my shaft, but also allowing the water rolling off my back time to circle my cum down the drain.

  Once evidence of my farce is washed away, I step out of the shower, feeling lighter than I did when I entered it. My cock is still pining for something it can’t have for another two days, but its ache isn’t as paramount.

  After throwing on a pair of jeans and a shirt, I make my way out of the bathroom, freezing halfway out when I spot Roman standing in the living room. He has a surveillance tablet in his hand, and his brows are stitched together.

  “If you’re watching me beat my snake in the shower, you need to get fucking laid.” Smirking at his gag, I run a hand through my soaked hair before bridging the gap between us. “Luyca was more than eager last night.”

  Don’t let Roman’s age fool you. He gets as much attention from the whores as the men in my crew. He’s just never acted on their offers.

  Can’t say I blame him. His wife is a fox.

  “What are you looking at?”

  Even if the bathroom had a camera, he doesn’t need to watch me stroke one out in the shower. He’s seen me in many compromising positions the past ten years, so he has a vault-load of imagery if he ever decides to jump the fence.

  My smug grin is wiped away when Roman grumbles, “Nothing. I was just checking the feed.”