Owned By The Bratva King: A Bratva Captive Romance

by Cole, Jagger

  “Semyon,” I smile thinly. “You’re looking fit.”

  He frowns. “I am?”

  “No, not really.”

  He glares at me. But then his eyes land on River and spark. I grit my teeth in fury. I hate that he’s looking at her like that. I turn to glance at my men and his lining the walls to either side of the table.

  “Let’s dispense with the spectators, shall we?”

  Semyon frowns. But then he nods. “Fine.” He turns to his men. “Ubiraysya,” he grunts. Get out.

  I watch Semyon’s men leave through the door opposite me. I turn to nod at Maksim. He mutters to my other men, and they all file out the door we came in. Then, it’s just me, Semyon, and River.

  I take her arm, still throbbing with… something from the way she slapped me. I pull her towards one of the two chairs at this head of the table.

  “Sit,” I grunt.

  She does as I say, smoothing her dress down as she takes a seat. I sit in the chair next to her. My hands steeple on the table in front of me as I eye my rival.

  “You’re a real bastard, Yuri,” Semyon mutters.

  I shrug. “I am what I am.”

  He glares at me. “You think this will work on me? Bringing her here all dressed up looking beautiful?”

  We’re speaking in Russian. But River can tell by the way we keep glancing at her that she’s the subject matter of this back-and-forth.

  “She is beautiful, isn’t she?” I growl, turning to let my eyes slide over her. I turn back to see Semyon looking furious. “And that’s clothed.”

  He bristles. “This is not how business is done, Yuri.”

  “This is exactly how this business will be done.”

  He looks away, shaking his head. “No.”

  I frown. “No?”

  “I said no!” he snaps, whirling back to glare at me. “I know you think of me as an idiot, Yuri.”

  “That isn’t true, Semyon.” I smile. “I don’t think of you as an idiot. I just know you are.”

  He bristles. But he catches the outburst before it happens.

  “This isn’t going to work, you motherfucker,” he hisses through clenched teeth. “Not this time. You aren’t going to bully and provoke me into giving you whatever the fuck you think you’re going to get from me.” He shrugs. “Have her. Keep her. There will be other women for me to claim.”

  I smile thinly. Semyon is a terrible bluffer. But just the same, I can see he needs to be pushed; provoked. He needs to be reminded.

  I turn to smile at River. “She’s gorgeous, isn’t she.” I reach out. She gasps, half turning to me when my knuckles brush her cheek. Her face reddens as her eyes find mine.

  “What are you doing?” she hisses quietly.

  “Business,” I growl. I turn back to Semyon and smile. “I’ve been told you’ve been thinking about settling down, Semyon.” I grin. “Marriage, was it?”

  He bristles. “Who told you that?”

  “People. So don’t try and bluff me, you dumb fuck. You are bad at it.”

  He grits his teeth. But then he shrugs. “I do not care anymore, Yuri. Keep her. You’re not getting shit from me.”

  “No?”

  I smile. My pulse thuds. And suddenly, my hand drops to her knee beneath the table. River gasps. She whirls to me, and her own hand drops to grab mine, as if to pull it away. But I grip her tighter, staring at the man across the table.

  “You’re sure about that, Semyon?”

  His nostrils flare. He can’t see, because of the table. But he can see where my hand is. I grip her knee tighter. And then slowly, my hand begins to slide up her thigh. She gasps sharply. Her hand grips mine, trying to pry my fingers from her. But when I don’t budge, she stops trying. Her fingers grip around my wrist—not fighting me, but almost like she’s hanging on for whatever comes next.

  I slide my hand higher, and her face burns red. Semyon glares at me, then her, then back to me.

  “What the fuck are you—”

  “Nothing that concerns you, Semyon,” I growl. “Just enjoying what you’ve clearly told me I can keep as my own.”

  My hand slides higher, pushing her dress to the side. River stiffens, gasping quietly. Her eyes dart to mine, her teeth raking over her lip.

  “What the fuck are you—”

  “This,” I snarl quietly. My hand pushes even higher under her dress. And suddenly, my knuckles are brushing the soft lace of her panties, right across her little slit.

  River quivers, gasping as a soft whimper escapes her lips. I groan, feeling my cock surge in my pants. But I drag my eyes from her to the fucker across the table. He’s staring at me in horror.

  “Stop that,” he chokes.

  I smile thinly. “Stop what?”

  My hand rotates, palm against her pussy through her now damp and warm panties. River’s hand clutches my wrist. But I can tell she’s not trying to pull me away. She’s just holding on, trembling against me.

  I let one of my fingers drag up her seam. She moans quietly and I feel her get even wetter through her panties.

  “Stop that!” Semyon barks. “Stop it, Yuri!!”

  I grin as I turn to him again. “Stop what, you little worm?”

  His face is bright red with fury. “Stop… stop touching her!”

  “What, like this?”

  My fingers deftly pull her soaking wet panties to the side. River chokes and gasps around a halting moan as my finger strokes up through her bare lips. This time, she goes to pull my hand away. But I don’t let her. I keep it right where it is, and I’m much stronger than her.

  She whimpers and tugs at my hand. But I keep stroking her eager little cunt, feeling her wetness coating my fingers. She chokes out another moan, and I watch as her eyes roll back.

  “Enough!” Semyon roars. “Enough, Yuri!”

  I turn to smile at him. “Not yet it’s not, you motherfucker,” I snap.

  My fingers part her lips and center on her clit. I start to rub in slow circles, rolling the little nub beneath the pads of two fingers. She whines quietly. She’s still grabbing my hand, but she’s not trying to pull me away anymore. It’s like she’s making sure I don’t.

  Her breath comes faster, haltingly. Her pussy gushes wetness onto my fingers. Her hips push, greedy and desperate for more. I rub her clit around and around, until suddenly, her hands clench my wrist tightly as her bright red face scrunches up.

  “Yuri…”

  And suddenly, she’s coming for me. Right there at the negotiating table, she’s coming on my fingers and desperately trying not to cry out in pleasure.

  I keep rolling her clit as she comes, until she’s shuddering against me. Slowly, I pull my hand away. With the blood roaring in my ears, I slowly turn to Semyon.

  He looks like he’s about to explode. He looks like he wants to kill me right here and now with his bare hands, even if this is neutral ground.

  “You son of a bitch,” he chokes, sputtering in rage. His head shakes. “You son of a fucking—”

  “Your entire construction sector,” I say evenly. “All of it, Semyon. And half of your narcotics trade.”

  His jaw drops. His eyes look like they might actually pop out of his head.

  “I will kill you for this,” he snarls dangerously.

  “You have two days to think of my offer. After that, I ask for more. Or else…” I turn to let my eyes sweep over River, who’s blushing furiously and staring down at her hands.

  “Or else maybe I have more than a taste next time, hmm, Semyon?”

  His chair falls back as he stands abruptly. He’s shaking all over, his face red and his eyes furious. He jabs a finger at me. But when he opens his mouth, all he can do is sputter. With a snarl, he turns and storms out of the room through the door behind him, letting it slam behind him.

  Instantly, River’s chair does the same as Semyon’s as she lurches to her feet. She whirls on me, fury on her face as she shakes her head.

  “Fuck you,” she snaps.
>
  When I say nothing, her eyes flash with green fire.

  “You disgusting pig!”

  “A pig?” I smile thinly. “Tell me, kiska, do pigs usually make you come like that?”

  Her face blushes deeply. But she’s still glaring at me with fury in her eyes. My eyes hold hers as I bring my hand up to my face. Slowly, I open my mouth, suck my fingers inside, and wetly lick them clean. Her mouth falls open. Her eyes are wide as the blush throbs hotly on her cheeks.

  And then suddenly, she slaps me again, hard.

  “Fuck you,” she spits as she whirls for the door. “We’re fucking done here.” She makes it half a step before my hand shoots out. I grab her wrist with a snarl and yank her back as I stand abruptly.

  Once again, I’ve miscalculated. Once again, I thought of myself as stronger. And once again, I was fucking wrong.

  River gasps as I yank her back into my arms. My hand cups her face, the other holding her wrist behind her at the small of her back.

  “We are done here when I say we’re done here.”

  And instantly, my mouth is crushing to hers, fiercely. I groan as I kiss her. And when she whimpers back into my mouth, I know there’s no coming back from this.

  A line has been crossed. An unwritten law has been shattered. And suddenly, I know the rules of warfare have changed.

  I growl as I kiss her deeply. But I want more. I need more. The one little taste of her sweet pussy from my fingers isn’t enough. It’s on my tongue like the first hit of a drug. And now, the addiction is sinking its claws into me.

  My mouth sears to hers, kissing her deeply as she moans into my mouth. With a snarl, I whirl us and slam her back against the conference table. I slide her ass up onto it, groaning as her legs wrap around my waist.

  I push her back as my mouth dives to her neck. My hands skim down her sides to grip her hips. I drop between her legs as I shove them wide apart.

  “Oh God…” she cries out as I grip her panties. My knuckles brush over her slippery little pussy before I yank the soaked lace down her legs. I snarl, and my mouth presses between her trembling thighs. My tongue suddenly touches her silky soft lips, and I groan at the sweet taste of her.

  “Oh fuck!” She moans as my tongue drags through her lips. I groan, pushing my tongue into her.

  Fuck me, she tastes like candy. She tastes like heaven. She tastes like she’s all fucking mine.

  My tongue delves deep, eager to drink every drop of her sweet sticky cream. I drag it up to her clit, humming against her as I suck the nub between my lips. River cries out, her thighs clamping around my head as her body clenches tightly.

  She moans, shuddering on the conference table. Her hips raise up against my mouth. Her eagerness makes my dick throb and pulse between my legs. I hum into her, sucking her clit between my lips. I tongue it in small circles, gripping her creamy skin tightly. Her body quivers and shudders against me as her whines fill the room.

  “Yuri!”

  And with a wrench of her hips and a jolt through her entire body, she’s coming against my tongue.

  She moans and thrashes, trembling as I keep licking and sucking. I growl into her, tasting her sweetness deeply as I demand the orgasm from her supple young body.

  When I pull away, she’s staring at me with awe; her eyes wide and her cheeks flushed.

  “Now,” I growl quietly as I pull her off the table. I push her skirt down. But then I bring her panties up and slip them into my jacket pocket. I cup her chin and kiss her hard, letting her taste her own sweetness from my lips.

  “Now, we are done here.”

  7

  River

  For a while, I just buried the story whenever it came up in interviews. I’d dodge the question, or artfully switch to a new subject. I’d make a joke or something. But finally, a few months ago, that thread got picked at again. And this time, the tabloids kept picking until the whole story unraveled.

  Then suddenly, what should have been absolutely no one’s business but my own became front page gossip: that “gorgeous, world famous model River Finn” was “bafflingly somehow still a virgin.”

  And, I am. But if any of these tabloid headline writers were me, they’d see it’s not really so “baffling” at all.

  Ever met a male model? They’re fucking awful. They are insufferably arrogant, self-involved, pompous douchebags. Ask any female model. I have it on good authority that most of them will tell you that “chiseled good looks” and having been in a Dior ad does not a good lover make.

  I got into the industry young, at fifteen when I got spotted on the street in New York window shopping with my grandmother. But while a lot of the girls I started in the industry with went hard into partying, boys, and drugs, I stayed focused. I had, and still have, no illusions about this industry. Being a model is not a lifetime career. That’s just the hard facts, even if a lot of models like to gloss over that.

  At some point, looks fade. We age; it’s just part of life. So to me, I never saw the point in wasting time on arrogant pretty boys who just wanted to get in your pants to have one more “famous chick” notched on their bedpost. The same goes for partying or drugs.

  I got older, and more famous. But that just made it all even clearer to me. The boys who pursued me only wanted one thing. And it’s not like I’m a prude who doesn’t want or have any interest in sex. I mean, yeah, I get horny like most people on the planet. But the longer I held on to it, the more I knew how pissed I’d be at myself for just “getting it over with” with some smug pretty boy.

  So I never did.

  The thing is, I’ve “dated” some fairly famous male models and actors. The only problem? They were all “image relationships;” fake, constructed relationships to keep your name buzzing in the tabloids. It sounds stupid, and it is. But trust me, it’s way more prevalent in the fashion and entertainment worlds than people think.

  So, the story about me being rumored to be a virgin would come up. But then someone would point to the heartthrob of the hour I’d been “spotted with” at some concert. And the idea that said heartthrob hadn’t “gotten me into bed” was laughed at.

  Except a few months ago, it finally got traction. Chris Karl, the guy famous for having his abs looming above Times Square on the Gap billboard and for sleeping with more girls than the Rolling Stones, decided he’d found religion. He went on Ellen and renounced his man-whoring ways. Which included making a public apology to the women he’d treated terribly. And then he dropped the bomb: he apologized to me, specifically. Not for sleeping with me and never calling again. But for telling everyone that he did, when it never happened.

  After that, the ball started rolling. Another model, Evan Stirling, mentioned off-hand in another interview that he also hadn’t ever slept with me. He’d never claimed he had either. But it was assumed, since he and I had been one of those “image relationships” for tabloids to take pictures of.

  Then the landslide happened. Four more guys I’d been publicly linked with admitted they’d never even kissed me. And suddenly, the question every microphone had for me was “was I really a virgin?” I honestly didn’t see the point of lying. So I didn’t.

  So there’s my big story. “World famous” “iconic” twenty-one-year-old model River Finn has never hopped into bed with anyone. Big fucking deal.

  Except the thing is, it does become a “big fucking deal” when the absolutely gorgeous, dangerous, much older Russian mafia king puts his hand between your legs and makes you ache for more. It’s a big fucking deal when he’s the first person aside from yourself to make you come.

  And it’s a very big fucking deal when he plants you on the edge of a bratva conference table, spreads your legs, rips your soaked panties off, and puts his mouth on your pussy until you scream his name.

  Yeah, that’s a big fucking deal, and I am now way out of my element…

  The helicopter ride back to the yacht is silent. But even without words, what happened back in that meeting room isn’t left th
ere. The entire ride back, Yuri’s hand rests on my knee—gripping it possessively.

  I’d be lying if I said it doesn’t send a tremor of heat through my core the whole ride back. The fact that my panties are in his jacket pocket and not on me isn’t exactly helping.

  But even still, something grinds at me. It’s an itch in my thoughts the whole ride back. But it’s when we start to drop out of the sky down onto the yacht that I realize what’s bothering me.

  That “big fucking deal” of the gorgeous, powerful man sitting next to me with his hand possessively on my knee having just made me scream his name with his mouth between my legs? It wasn’t some explosively hot tryst. It was a business transaction.

  I wasn’t forbidden lust he simply couldn’t stay away from. I was bait. I was a pawn used to get what he wanted from a rival. My mouth purses as it slowly clicks into place for me. And suddenly, the glow of what just happened back there fades. The buzz of excitement turns to bitterness.

  I spent years saying no to arrogant, good-looking guys because I didn’t want to feel used. And that’s exactly what just happened.

  The helicopter is just about to touch down when I reach down, grab his hand, and shove it off my knee. I turn to look out the window. But I can still feel his eyes on me as he turns to look at me curiously. His hand slips back to my knee. Once again, more deliberately this time, I shove it away.

  The chopper sets down on the helipad, and the engine winds down. Maksim opens the door and steps out, followed by the few other guards. I go to follow, but Yuri’s hand grips my wrist to pull me back. I turn to glare at him.

  “Yes?”

  His handsome face crosses with shadow as he narrows his eyes at me.

  “You’re angry.”

  I shrug. “I’m fine.”

  “You’re also not a great liar.”

  I sneer as I pull away from him. “Yeah, you actually don’t know much about me at all—”