by Jane Henry
“Of course.”
“I don’t suspect Tomas will care much,” he says. “He said he wasn’t going to induct him.”
“Right,” I say, pulling on a t-shirt. “Which is probably why Erik killed himself.”
“Yeah.”
I look over to Marissa. She’s paled, the sheets pulled up to her chin as she watches us in silence. She’s heard it all but doesn’t react.
“I have to go with him,” I tell her. “You are not to leave this room.”
She holds my gaze for a moment before she nods. “Yes, sir.”
I walk over to her and sit on the edge of the bed. Gently, I hold her face with both hands and capture her gaze. I can’t speak freely for Yakov to hear, but I can show her what I need to say. I lean down and brush my lips against hers before I hold her to my chest. I release her with reluctance and get to my feet, then nod to Yakov.
“Let’s go.”
The meeting with Tomas is brief. He doesn’t even flinch when we tell him but nods, then picks up his phone and orders the body disposed of in rapid Russian. Before we leave, he calls out to us, though he’s already focused back on the computer in front of him, typing away and trying to finish some bookkeeping.
“Visitors tonight,” he says. “Bring your women to dinner. Well done with the interrogation.” He gives us a small smile.
Fuck. I nod, and leave with Yakov.
“You don’t want to bring her,” Yakov says when we’ve gone a few paces down the hall.
“Fuck no. Do you?”
He smiles. “Well, yes.”
I look at him incredulously. “Really? Why?”
He rubs his chin while he walks. “Because she’s beautiful and mine, and there’s no better way to make that clear than in front of the other brothers.”
“Understood.”
“And why don’t you want your woman to come?” he asks curiously.
“Because I don’t want them to even look at her. If someone touches her, I’d have to kill them, and that wouldn’t be the best way to solidify my new induction into this brotherhood.”
He laughs out loud and punches my shoulder. “True.”
God, it feels good to have the companionship of a brother again. I hated that Myron forced me out of my father’s Bratva group. Hated it. I had long-term friends I’ve known for years, men I’d give my life for. Men who now think I’m dead. A sister. And Yakov, though brutal and fierce, is a good man.
But I can’t stay in this brotherhood. I will find a way to get her out of here.
Then what? Will we run and hide for the rest of our lives?
When we reach the door, we freeze. The sound on the other side is so foreign, it takes me a minute to realize what it is.
Marissa isn’t alone. She’s giggling.
I give Yakov a curious look and open the door. Marissa and Yvonne sit on her bed, and both girls look up at us with wide, curious eyes, like they’ve done something wrong and they’re wondering if they’re in trouble.
“They look guilty to me,” I say to Yakov, my voice teasing but stern. “Don’t you think?”
He crosses his arms on his chest and fixes them both with a serious look. “Very. Did you girls misbehave?”
“No,” Marissa says, shaking her head. Her hands are in Yvonne’s hair, and she’s halfway through braiding it. “We just… well, we weren’t totally sure we were allowed to come into each other’s rooms, but you didn’t say we couldn’t…”
She bites her lip and her voice trails off.
“We didn’t give them permission, did we, Yakov?” I keep my face impassive, though truthfully I find them adorable.
“We did not.” Yakov crooks a finger at Yvonne. “Come here.”
Marissa releases Yvonne’s hair, and it tumbles down around her shoulders in waves. She’s more timid than Marissa, smaller. When she reaches him, he grips her arm and leads her to the bathroom. He looks over his shoulder at me. “See me before dinner tonight?”
I nod, then the two of them are gone.
I turn to face Marissa. “Do you think I would want you taking any risks?”
Her eyes go wide. “No, sir.”
I shake my head. “I told you what would happen if you disobeyed me. I told you I would punish you.”
She swallows and her eyes widen, but her cheeks are a pretty pink.
“I didn’t disobey you. I never left this room.”
“But you allowed someone else in here,” I say, keeping my voice firm. I’m not at all upset with her, but I like the way she melts when I threaten punishment. I’ve punished her only a handful of times. She ignites every time. I know that if I slid my fingers between her thighs right now, she’d be wet for me.
I bend down to the floor where I left my belt and lift it. Her jaw literally drops open and she stares at me in disbelief.
“You—you wouldn’t, sir!” she says. Good girl, remembering how to address me.
I fold the leather into a loop and fist the buckle, then take a step toward her while holding her gaze.
“Oh, I would.”
“Just for me inviting Yvonne over here?”
No, not for that, but because she needs this.
Because I fucking do. A man killed himself today and two bodies lie in makeshift graves. The world outside this door is out of my control. But in here? With her, I am her master.
“You invited her over?” I say. “So not only are you in trouble, but you led your friend to misbehave, and now she’s in trouble, too.”
“Oh,” Marissa says. She bites her lip. “I didn’t think of that.”
I point the belt to the bed. “Out of bed, and bend belly-down over the edge,” I order.
“Sir…” I can tell she’s dying to call me Nicolai, but she knows I’ll punish her for real if she does. But Khristos, I want her to. I want to hear her say my name.
I pull the belt loop and snap it.
“Now.”
“You told me you’d only punish me if I came without permission!” she protests, but she scrambles out of the bed nonetheless. I note her hair is braided down her back, and she looks so sweet. Yvonne probably fixed it, like a little sister. So cute.
“That, too,” I tell her. “But it isn’t the only reason.”
I point to the bed with the folded leather. “Marissa,” I say warningly.
I began this almost teasing, but her protests have earned her a few more strokes. My cock is hard as steel, my grip a tight fist to help me control my need to punish.
With a grimace, she folds herself over the edge of the bed. She’s wearing a little dress, having gotten changed since I left this morning. I step over to her and bend down, my flank pressed up against her. I bring my mouth to her ear.
“You’ll take every stripe of my belt,” I tell her. “And you’ll like it.”
“I will not!” she protests, her eyes flashing at me. Her protesting is part of the appeal, and it’s all the invitation I need. I stand, take my position behind her, then snap my belt across the fullest part of her ass. She hisses and grips the bedsheet, coming up on her toes as a stripe of pink paints her ass. Fuck, she’s gorgeous.
I bring back my belt and let it fly a second time, then a third, each stroke painting a different part of her a fetching rose color. Careful not to let the leather strike the same place twice, I vary the strokes.
“Why are you being punished, Marissa?”
“Because I didn’t ask permission?” she asks with a question in her voice.
I whip her again.
“Is that a question?”
“No, sir,” she says with a moan, squirming and making my dick impossibly harder. The way her full ass is on display, crisscrossed with pink, her submissive posture as she takes her punishment beautiful. A true testament to how much she trusts me. And I won’t make this terrible for her. She hasn’t earned a real punishment, but given me a reason to do what I’ve been longing to do for years. I’ve fantasized about doing this, stroked myself off to this very
image, the thought of whipping her so fucking hot I can hardly control myself.
“Will you obey me, then?” I ask in a tight voice, panting with the effort of holding myself back.
“Yes, sir,” she says. I pause between strokes of the belt, and part her thighs with the folded leather.
“Let’s see that pussy,” I rasp, my voice husky with arousal. “Show me how wet you are. Let me see.”
Obediently, she spreads her legs. Her inner thighs are coated with arousal, the scent of her feminine musk pervading the room. She’s fucking soaked.
“How am I ever going to teach you to obey?” I muse, as I step closer and run the leather up and down her thighs. “If every time I spank you, you’re ready to come?”
She closes her eyes and swallows hard. “How am I supposed to take you seriously? When every time you punish me, you’re ready to come?”
“Watch that tone, little girl.”
That earns her three more strokes of the belt for her sass. By the last, she’s up on her toes and begging for mercy, but I grant her none. Not until I bring her to a place beyond where she’s comfortable, to that deep state of submission I’ve taken her before. Beyond the physical pain and to the very edge of euphoria.
I need this. I fucking need this, all of it, this outlet, her submission, our connection.
She stills. I whip her again with the folded leather, but this time she doesn’t flinch. She doesn’t cry out. She’s getting dragged under the waters of submission, where pain and pleasure meld.
“Will you behave?”
“Mmmm.” It seems she can’t speak, her words jumbled, eyes closed.
“Good girl,” I approve, dropping the belt. She doesn’t flinch. I lean in close to her, the heat of her punished skin pressed up to me when I hear her moan. I embrace her from behind, my hands finding her bare breasts and cupping them, before I run my thumbs along her hardened nipples.
“Will you be a good girl?” I whisper in her ear as I tweak her nipples.
“A perfect angel,” she responds. Her eyes are closed and she’s grinning. God, I love this woman so much. We’ve been through hell and back, and I’ll fight through every layer of torment to earn our freedom if it kills me. I brush her hair off her forehead and kiss her cheek.
“Good girl.”
My cock throbs, aching to be in her. I free myself and drag the head of my cock to her slick entrance. She’s never been so wet, so ready. I cup her heated backside in my hand and squeeze, then drag my thumb to her asshole and press. She tenses. “I will own this ass.”
“My God,” she breathes, her cheeks flushing again. I stifle a chuckle. She still holds an innocence I find intoxicating. I slide my cock into her pussy. She’s so much wetter than the last time we made love, I easily glide in and out, my need to fuck her immediate and intense.
“Fucking perfect,” I groan, thrusting. Her pussy grips my cock, her channel clenching around me, so tight and slick.
“Tell me when you’re ready to come.”
Her climax builds from a soft moan, but she’s growing louder, her pleasure more intense until she arches her back and begins to climax.
“Now, sir,” she says on a choked whisper. I’m right on the cusp of my own release, and her clenching pussy and gorgeous moans make me lose my mind. I pump into her, hard and fast, and even though it feels so good, it feels so right, this time is different. There’s a qualitative difference this time.
Did I put a baby in her this time?
I’m so overcome with the thought, I lean down and hold her back to my chest, my cock still in her.
“Fuck, I love you,” I tell her.
“Fuck, I love you, too,” she says with a smile. “And I love to fuck.”
I teasingly slap her ass before I pull out and clean us up. I lead her to the bathroom and we shower together. We don’t speak. Neither of us knows if this will be the last time we’re together or if something today will happen to threaten us again. Finally, when we’re showered and cleaned I put my forehead to hers.
“I don’t know what will happen tonight, but I will get you to myself, Marissa. No matter what.”
She laces her fingers through mine and closes her eyes. “No matter what.”
We dress in silence, and I find some things to occupy her while I meet my brothers. I hate leaving her, but have to at least for now.
I’ve been looking for the man I saw last night, but don’t see him. I wonder if it was my imagination that told me I saw something in his eyes that concerned me, or did he really recognize me?
I’ve changed my identity and don’t look exactly the way I did before, but if anyone here suspects me, he will for sure know me when I show up with Marissa. I consider pretending she’s sick or some such thing, but right before I’m supposed to meet the rest for dinner, Tomas comes to my room.
“I’d like a word with her before we go,” he says. Shit.
“Certainly.” I hope he doesn’t note how tight my voice is, or the way my hands are clenched into fists.
I open the door. Marissa is standing just outside the bathroom, fixing her hair. She’s dressed in a modest blue dress that hugs her curves but covers her. I picked it out myself. I’ve had someone come in to do her makeup, and though she still wears a bandage from the accident, she looks gorgeous.
“Isn’t she a pretty little thing,” Tomas says appreciatively.
“The most beautiful,” I agree tightly.
He walks into the room. I wonder why he’s here. Her eyes come to mine and I point to the floor.
“Kneel,” I instruct.
She falls to her knees and bows her head the way I’ve taught her. Even though I’m on edge, something in me warms at that. She’s a very good girl.
“Well done,” Tomas says approvingly before he addresses Marissa. “I came to remind you what will happen tonight. We have men from other brotherhoods coming to visit, and we’ll expect the few women present to be on their best behavior. We haven’t had time for Aleks to show me how well he’s trained you.”
Marissa nods but keeps her eyes down. “Yes, sir.”
I walk over to her and rest my hand atop her head. “She knows exactly what I expect and exactly what happens if she disobeys. Don’t you?”
She nods again. “Yes, sir.”
“Very good,” Tomas says. “You will sit at my right hand.”
He leaves the room and I look to Marissa.
“There will be no hiding beside him,” I tell her.
She looks up from her kneeling position, her eyes no longer subdued but flashing with fire. “I’m tired of hiding.”
“I don’t know who the guests are,” I explain.
Her gaze remains fixed on me. “I don’t fucking care.”
I smile and chuck a finger under her chin. She’s fiery, but she will listen. “But you’ll obey?”
She smiles. “Always, sir.”
I take in a deep breath. “Let’s go.”
Chapter 21
Marissa
We go to dinner. I hold onto his arm as he leads me out, and dread grows within me with every step that I take. Our identities can be discovered at any point. I know why he did this, why he forged an allegiance to the Boston Bratva, to rescue me. But now that he has me, the temptation to run and hide is stronger than ever.
We aren’t safe here. At any moment, we could be discovered. What would happen if those who sanctioned my abduction come here? We already know they are friends with the pakhan. But how can we escape without another member of the Bratva ever finding us?
Nicolai is silent, as he leads me toward the large dining room. It’s set apart from the other rooms, and the only way in is to enter through a large bar area. I am shocked at how many people there are in the anteroom, the bar teeming with guests, and couples mingling around the small room holding drinks. He marches us swiftly through to the dining room.
I hold onto his arm and walk beside him with my head bowed. He demanded my obedience in front of his pakhan. Wil
l he do the same at dinner? I cast a discreet look toward him. His eyes are flinty, his jaw tight. He would never admit it, but he’s as nervous as I am.
Thankfully, when we enter the dining room, we aren’t alone. At least twenty people mill about, the men dressed in suits, and all have women on their arms. I am dying to have a glass of wine or champagne or whatever it is they’re drinking but as soon as we enter, someone signals for us all to sit.
Nicolai takes me by the elbow and leads me over to where Tomas waits for us. We sit in silence. The table is set with bread and butter and small plates of salad, but my stomach is so tight with nerves I’m not even sure I can eat anything. But Nicolai has other ideas.
“Eat,” Nicolai orders, buttering a roll and handing it to me. Obediently, I take a small nibble to pacify him, then place it on my plate. I look around the room to see if I recognize anyone at all and smile when I see Yakov and Yvonne enter the room. With his reddish hair, beard, and bright blue eyes, his strong and muscled stature, and her nearly white blonde hair and petite, curvy body, they make a striking couple. She holds onto his arm tentatively and keeps her head bowed. I lift my hand to wave, but then realize that’s likely inappropriate. They sit at the far end of the table. Yakov meets my eyes and gives me a little smile.
“I said eat,” Nicolai snaps. He’s on edge, and I remember the admonition to obey him. “I won’t tell you again.”
Tomas eyes us both curiously. I pick up the roll and quickly eat it. I don’t even taste it. It sits like a rock in my stomach.
Most of them speak in Russian, and I’m grateful no one even looks my way. They talk of the auction, the death of the man that committed suicide, and other business affairs. I focus on eating the salad and bread, and soon waiters come in serving large trays of food. I’m grateful for something else to occupy our time and my appetite returns when I begin to eat.
“You’re being a very good girl,” Nicolai says, leaning over to speak into my ear. “I’m proud of you.” He lowers his voice to a whisper. “Soon, I will excuse you for feeling ill and send you back to the room.”
I nod. I whisper back, “I hope you don’t send me back before I can eat dessert. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a meal like this.”
