by Jane Henry
Over and over he laps and sucks, pausing just long enough to breathe me in so deeply I shiver with delight. It’s like I’m meeting a need of his somehow, fueling him like an oxygen mask.
He breathes against my thighs, whispering, “Come for me, sweetheart.” But I can’t. I’m too pent up, too in my head, that even with his seductive ministrations, I can’t go to the place of chasing my release.
“Come, Caroline,” he repeats.
“I can’t,” I moan, squirming under the onslaught of his tongue. “Oh God, I can’t.”
He plunges his fingers in my core and pumps hard. “You can. Come.” He’s right. The extra pressure sends me soaring, and I sail into bliss with abandon. Moaning, grinding against his face, I’m milking every second of this ecstasy.
“Fucking beautiful,” he says, gently placing my knees back down on the bed. “I love that you granted me that.”
I murmur some gibberish about me being the lucky one, or some such fool thing, but I’m not kidding. I’m drunk on pleasure, the feel of his tongue still lingering between my legs, even while my cheeks flush with heat at the thought of how recklessly I came on his mouth.
“Is this part of your plan of seduction?” I ask, as he removes the tie from my wrists and ties it around his neck, slightly crumpled, but doable.
He gives me a wicked grin that makes my rapidly beating pulse spike. He needs to be careful how he wields that grin. It’s dangerous.
“I have no plan of seduction, Caroline. You already belong to me.”
I give him a curious look, but he only winks at the doorway. “I need to go see my men. You have plenty to occupy your time until I return. I’ll be back within an hour.” He turns and leaves the room, and I swear he takes a piece of my heart with him. I’m losing myself to him, this powerful man who commands not only an army… but me.
Chapter 13
Tomas
The difference between what I want to do in my head and what I actually do are two very different things. And I need to face that.
I want my wife to behave herself, to fear me. Then before I know what I’m doing, I’m laying her down and eating her out until she comes on my face with reckless abandon, as if carnal indulgence trumps logic and reason. And hell, maybe it does.
I adjust my dick, hard as a fucking rock, while I fix my clothing. Caroline doesn’t think she’s beautiful, and to most others, she is no model. She isn’t what most people would consider beautiful.
But I’m not most people.
The curves she curses make me want to bury myself in her to the hilt, claiming her as all mine. She’s like a pin-up model of old, with their creamy, voluptuous thighs, full, taut breasts, soft curves and feminine allure I’d follow like the call of the sirens. When I unleash myself on her, she can withstand me. She doesn’t crumple, even when I punish her, dominate her, fuck her.
And I wonder, knowing now what I do, if being dominated helps her let go of negative associations she had with sex. Maybe it empowers her, yielding the way she does.
The woman was made for me.
A man like me likes a sturdy woman with curves and stamina. She’s fucking gorgeous.
The way her eyes light up when I bring her to orgasm, the pink coloring of her cheeks. Parted lips and moans of pleasure, her sweet hands clasped about me while she anchors herself for safety. Steady breathing soft sighs. Everything about her is passionate and powerful, and I’m fucking honored how she submits to me.
Submission has many facets, though. She doesn’t cave. Not my Caroline. Though she’s learning what I like and adapting, she’s got a will of iron and a mouth to match it. Witty and sharp, she keeps me on my toes.
Jesus.
Jesus.
I’m falling for her.
Never in my life have I fallen for a woman. I’ve dated, I’ve fucked, I’ve flirted and courted, but never, never has a woman wound her way around my heart and mind like Caroline.
It fills me with pride to know that she bears my name, my ring, and some day, I hope she’ll come around to being amenable to bearing my children.
So when I leave her in our suite to be dolled up by Elliot, a stack of books by her bedside table and permission to help the kitchen staff prepare lunch, it pleases me to see how she smiles.
“You remembered,” she says, her beautiful eyes alight with hope and pleasure.
“Remembered what?” I ask her, sliding my suit jacket on. I know exactly what she’s talking about, but I want to hear her say it.
“You remembered that I like to cook.”
“Of course,” I tell her with mock sternness. “You’d do well to cook me a meal, woman. Wait staff is all well and good, but a good wife knows the way to her man’s heart is through his stomach.”
I’m teasing her, but I don’t think she knows it.
“Does she?” she asks me softly, her head tipped to the side. I can practically see the wheels spinning.
“I like hearty meals,” I tell her. “Comfort food. I work hard, and when I eat, I take it seriously. No light fare on my table. Salads are for rabbits.”
She gives me an all-out grin, and I swear to God in that moment I’d give her anything she fucking asked for. “Noted, sir.”
Sir. God, she stirs something in me when she calls me that and I know she does it on purpose. I can’t fucking wait to take her beyond where she’s comfortable and push her to a place of deep, deep submission.
Christ, I’m hard again at the mere thought.
“Do you like sweets?” she asks.
“Far too much,” I admit. “I don’t keep many around, because they tempt me, but I do have a sweet tooth.”
“I’m surprised,” she says with a smile, while Eliott styles her hair. “That a man of your physique actually eats carbs.”
“Of course he does,” Eliott says in his thick French accent, waving his hand as if to dismiss me. “A man with fire like him burns calories by walking. He isn’t afraid of pizza or pastries.”
She giggles, and it’s so damn cute.
I step over to her and brush Eliott away for a moment, before I tuck her hair behind her ear. Leaning in, I whisper, “I like to eat more than carbs, sweetheart. I’ll eat you out morning and night. No panties without permission. This evening I’ll inspect to see if you’ve obeyed. And when I tell you, you’ll finger yourself to be ready for me. Understood?”
“Tomas!” she says in a heated whisper, flushing bright pink.
“Don’t you dare disobey me,” I warn, resting my hand on her collarbone and flexing my fingers. “Unless you want to be punished.” I grasp her ear lobe between my teeth and bite just enough to make her squirm. Reaching down, I palm her breast. I don’t care if anyone sees. Caroline is mine.
I leave her panting.
I’ll need her ready for me when I get back. The job I have before me now is not an easy one.
I step into the hall and my guards flank my sides. They’re ever-present, prepared to protect me at all costs. I nod to them to acknowledge them, but my head is elsewhere. I’m thinking all things Caroline, and how I need to approach the next meeting I’m about to have, so that I don’t even notice Nicolai is in the meeting room until he punches my shoulder.
“When’d you get in?” I ask.
“Last night. Jesus, man, you’re a mile away,” he says. “New wife keep you up all night?”
He shoots me a lascivious wink, then bellows with laughter when my silence confirms his suspicion.
“Well done,” he says, but I give him a warning look. My men are entering the room, and we have business to attend to.
“How’s married life?” he asks in my ear when he finally gets the point.
“Excellent. And how’s life with a pregnant wife?” I ask him pointedly.
He rolls his eyes in response.
I need to get to the point. “Nicolai, I have a proposal I’m going to make this morning, and I’ll need your help with what I’m about to do.”
He sobers. “Of course, b
rother. I owe you everything, Tomas. You say the word.”
I wonder if he’ll be so quick to promise his allegiance when he finds out I’m planning cold-blooded murder and moves that will start war between rival groups. That I am going to murder Aren and Andros and any other man that touched my wife.
The room hushes when I stand up, my hands on my hips, taking in quick attendance.
“Have all arrived?” I ask Lev.
“Yes.”
“Where is the guard that went missing last night?”
A young recruit holds up his hand, meeting my gaze but fidgeting nervously.
“Ilya,” I say, proclaiming his name for all to hear. He’s a new recruit, joining our ranks just last week.
“Explain yourself,” I tell him. “Where were you?”
He looks to the side and meets Yakov’s eyes. “Tell him,” Yakov orders, like a stern older brother.
Ilya looks back my way but stares at the floor. “I was with my girlfriend,” he says. “She’d just flown in from Florida, and I wanted to greet her.” He shrugs. “Yakov found me.”
Yakov grunts in disapproval, his arms on his chest. New recruits ought to know better than this, that you don’t fuck around with important nights like last night.
“Do you have any idea what possibilities went through my mind?” I ask him. I know I’m scolding him like an errant child, but he needs to feel the weight of this.
He hangs his head. “No, sir.”
“We have rival Bratva,” I tell him. “My men know things that others are not privy to. You being taken means that someone could have been seeking personal revenge, or they were planning to torture you to extract information.”
His head shoots up. “I would never reveal confidential information, sir. Never.”
“And yet you couldn’t even keep your fucking dick in your pants for one night, to attend the reception for your pakhan’s wedding? It was more important to you that you go see your girlfriend?”
He looks suitably shamed.
“How am I to believe you can be trusted?” I shake my head. “Where is she?”
“Who, sir?”
“The girl.”
His eyes widen and he stares at me in disbelief. He doesn’t know us yet, and he likely suspects his punishment will be enacted on her.
“Why?” he asks, but Yakov cuffs him.
“You answer your pakhan when asked a question,” Yakov chides.
Ilya flushes beet red. “She’s in a hotel room in the city,” he says. “I wanted her safe.”
“Safe? A hotel room in downtown Boston is safe, when she’s affiliated with one of Boston’s underground criminals?” I let the weight of those words settle. “You left her there unattended? Do you have any idea what’s at stake?” He doesn’t meet my eyes. I take in a breath and let it out again.
Stupid, stupid.
“You go get her,” I tell him. “Bring her here. You do not have a woman tied in any way to the brotherhood outside the vicinity without heavy protection. Do you understand me? You shouldn’t have even brought her here. You’ll be punished for that.”
“Yes, sir,” he says, nodding vigorously. “I’ll go now.”
“You’ll go when I fucking tell you.”
He flinches as if struck by a whip. Good. He needs to learn this lesson. It’s humiliating to be dressed down by your pakhan in the presence of your brothers, but it needs to be done. There’s too much at stake to half-ass any of this.
“From now until the weekend, you can be on kitchen duty,” I tell him. “Let’s see if Lydia finds you as charming as your girlfriend.”
“Yes, sir,” he says, looking down. I watch his reaction carefully. Anger when being chastened and publicly humiliated by a pakhan means he’s someone who can take correction. Humility means he’s willing to be corrected and rise to the challenge of brotherhood. Meekness and power go hand in hand, or ought to. A leader who can’t learn from his mistakes will let his authority go to his head.
We are old-fashioned men with old-fashioned principles. Assigning Ilya what’s traditionally “women’s work” will be suitable punishment. I nod to one of my men. “Attend him, please. And perhaps while you’re on your way you can explain to him how allegiance to the Bratva works, brother.”
“Yes, sir.” He nods sternly to Ilya, and the two of them leave. I wait until they’re gone before I get the attention of the others in the room.
“There’s something we need to discuss,” I tell them.
They sit up straighter, focused on me. Nicolai sits at my left and Yakov at my right. I feel their attention on me. These two would fight to the death for me.
Would all of them?
“My new wife,” I tell them. “She’s revealed information to me that will impact the next few months. Our course of action.”
Nicolai gives me a curious look. Yakov sits up straighter. I don’t have a plan of attack, but I need to tell my men what I ultimately plan on doing.
“As many of you know, Caroline came from San Diego.” They nod, and everyone’s attention is on me. “Her brother Aren is brigadier. Have any of you noticed a scar?”
They nod and none look away. It’s nothing to be ashamed of in our line of work, but a telltale sign of someone who’s experienced tragedy. Often, our scars unite us.
“The scar was given to her by her brother’s best friend.” My blood heats, my voice shaking while I try to relay what Caroline told me without losing my fucking mind. “Andros sexually assaulted my wife. And he will pay for this.”
“Fuck,” Nicolai says. “Was he with her when she arrived?”
I shake my head. “No. Her brother likely knew he’d protest.”
“Of course. Jesus.”
“They will pay for this,” I tell my men. “Both of them.”
No one responds at first, and a hush settles in the room. Some no longer meet my eyes, and I’m surprised by their reaction. Do none see how imperative it is that we defend her honor? That we seek retribution for what they’ve done to her?
Nicolai is the first to speak. “Tomas, what do you want from us? As pakhan, if you start a war with another group…” He looks uncomfortable, looking away from me.
“What do I want from you? Your support. I will not allow their crimes against her to go unpunished.”
Yakov clears his throat. “With all due respect, Tomas, my concern is that you’ve only just met her. It takes months to truly know someone with an arranged marriage. What if—”
“Are you suggesting my wife is a liar?” I’m on my feet, glaring at him. I can’t believe none of them see my point of view.
“He’s right, Tomas,” Nicolai says. As my closest brother, he challenges me when others would back down, but he needs to see my fucking point. “We can’t go to war over an accusation someone you’ve only just met makes.”
I glare at him, my anger taking over. “We can fucking go to war whenever I fucking say we do.”
Silence.
I hate it as soon as I say it and wish I could take the words back. I’ve never pulled rank, and I don’t like doing it now.
Nicolai holds my gaze, then gives me one firm nod. “Yes, sir.”
Yakov nods as well. “Do you feel in your gut that what she speaks is truth?”
They didn’t hold her in their arms after making love, bathed in her tears. They don’t know the sincerity in her gaze, or how she speaks of her brother and friend. They didn’t see the man I beat who dared come near her; nor did they understand his purpose.
But I did.
I fucking do.
“Trust me, brothers,” I ask, softening my voice. “I know that what she says is true.”
“Every word of it.”
I look up to see Caroline standing in the doorway, and my pulse accelerates. She did not have permission to leave the room and she wasn’t invited to this conversation. I don’t want her knowing they question the veracity of her accusations.
“Come here,” I tell her, crooking a fi
nger at her. She bites her lip, and I hope she fucking knows she’s in trouble for this. Despite the fact that she’s here without permission, when she reaches me, I breathe more easily. I sit and draw her on my lap, facing my men, my arm gently tucked about her waist.
“Tell them, sweetheart,” I say, gentling my voice, before I lean in and whisper in her ear, “And we’ll discuss why you’re here when this meeting is over.”
“Andros is my brother’s best friend,” she says. “One night, before my eighteenth birthday, he came to my room. He’d had too much to drink.” Her voice wavers, and I reach my hand to hers. Sweet girl. This can’t be easy for her. “He took my virginity that night.” She swallows hard. “Against my will.”
“Did you tell anyone?” a man to the right asks. It isn’t until Caroline places a gentle hand on my shoulder that I realize she’s trying to calm me.
I’m proud of her as she looks about the room without wavering or backing down, her voice clear and strong. “Not that night, no. He told me if I told anyone he would kill me.” She laughs mirthlessly. “I was too young and naïve to realize that he was bluffing. Of course he wouldn’t kill me. If he did, who would he rape?”
There’s silence in the room. I want to catch the next plane straight to San Diego. I will hunt him. I will hurt him. I will kill him.
“I finally told my brother.” Her voice grows cold and bitter. “Of course he didn’t believe me.” She sighs before she takes a deep breath.
The tension in the room is thick, palpable. Nicolai’s hands are clenched into fists and Yakov is on his feet, pacing. The traditional men in our order are strong and powerful; they take women who can withstand their dominance and need to assert power. But the deep thread of old-fashioned ideals runs strong. The wife of the pakhan was abused at their hands, and my men will not stand down.
“I don’t fucking care how long we’ve known her,” Nicolai says, addressing the room. It’s almost amusing how quickly he changes his tune when he hears my wife speak sincerely. There’s a winsome wholesomeness about her that no one can mistake for anything but authenticity. “From her body language to her story, she speaks truth.” He looks to me. “It goes without saying that I’d kill anyone who touched a hair on my wife’s head.” He faces the room. The men around him nod, some already on their feet, ready for instruction. “And now that Caroline is one of our own, we have a job to do.”
