“You killed people,” Jalisa said breathlessly. She sat slumped back in the chair, blinking her eyes slowly in disbelief.
“Yes. Many.” Erik’s jaw tensed. “Not any recently, though. I no longer conduct that kind of business.”
“But you’re still in the mafia.” Jalisa raised one slim eyebrow.
“I am leaving the mafia. In fact, I will be physically leaving the mafia,” Erik hinted. “I would have already left, but there is a very important woman here.”
“I assume you are speaking about me.” Jalisa was still in shock, and his flattery was not as effective as he wanted it to be.
“Of course.” He stood up from the table and made his way to her. Erik kneeled on the ground in front of her and clutched her hands in his.
“I…don’t know what to do,” she whispered. “I can’t have a boyfriend who is in the mafia. I can’t have a boyfriend who kills people and peddles drugs. I can’t. That goes against everything I believe in...but…” She bit her full bottom lip.
“But?” he prodded.
“It feels so right.”
“Please, Jalisa. Know that all my sins are in the past. I feel like we are the future. I want us to work. Please, give this relationship a chance. Give me a chance.” He looked deep into her eyes. Jalisa realized her vision was blurry before she realized that she was crying.
“You…have no idea what this means to me.” Jalisa sniffled. “I would love for us to be together.”
“Do you really mean it? I know mafia men can be scary, but I don’t want you to think that you have to be in a relationship with me. You have free choice here. No matter if you chose to be with me or not, I swear on all I love, I will find a way to get you out of here.” Erik brought her hands up to his lips and pressed one small kiss on each of her fingertips before nuzzling into her hand.
“You are…kind and smart and handsome and generous and strong and passionate and dependable...and...you make my heart thump and my hands shake...and… my insides…hot...” Jalisa voice trailed off as she realized he was watching her lips move.
“Jalisa,” he whispered, his voice low. “It would make me the happiest man in the world to kiss you right now.”
Unable to speak, she meekly shook her head. He waited for a moment and then he was upon her. His hands clutching at her thighs, he kissed her with a passion he had kept locked away. Their tongues met in a sweet symphony of passion. His hands trailed under the fabric of her robe, and she had to pull away, breathless.
He did not stop, kissing down her neck and chest, pausing when his chin met the fluffy collar of her robe. He bit it in his teeth and tugged on it with a sharp jerk of his neck. The fabric gave way just enough for him to kiss down her the valley in between her breasts. Jalisa felt a dampness collect between her legs and she moaned.
“Please.” He pulled an agonizing inch off of her flesh. “Please, let me make you feel good. Let me make you mine.”
“Yes.” She ran her hands through his hair. “Yes. Yours.”
He stood up and grabbed her hand, pulling her toward the bed. Slim brown fingers undid the bow on the front of the robe, and long white ones pushed the fabric from her shoulders. She collapsed onto the goose down, her hair forming a crown around her head.
Erik lingered at the bottom of the bed, gazing longingly all over her body. Rich umber skin with cool jewel tones was laid bare against the pale pink comforter. Soft and welcoming, her curves beckoned to his fingertips. Nipples just a few shades darker than her rich skin stood pebbled and erect. Her legs hung off the bed, but she did not relax.
Reminding himself that she was a virgin, he reached out and hovered one hand over her breast. Goosebumps raised on her arms before he had even touched her. Her wide dark eyes caught his, and a hint of pink flushed under her cheeks.
“Come on,” she whispered, her hands bunching up the comforter in embarrassment. It was all she could do to keep herself from covering her breasts.
“Are you sure?” he asked one more time.
“Yes.” Jalisa couldn't stand the sight of her own lonely nipple anymore and arched her back into his hand. “Touch me.”
Erik massaged her breasts in his hand, pawing at the flesh until she was a writhing mess beneath him. He leaned over her and suckled and bit at her nipples. Her skin was hot and sweet and salty. The most delicious treat he could imagine. It wasn't enough.
His clothing was hot, itchy, and completely unnecessary. Reaching up, he jerked his tank top off of his neck and threw it on the floor. Jalisa unconsciously bit her lip as he pulled off his pants. He wore nothing underneath, and as soon as the thick base of his cock was revealed, she screwed her eyes shut. If she were to see the size of the thing that was expected to fit inside of her, her nerves would surely overtake her.
“Hey.” His voice was husky with lust, but still gentle. “We have all the time in the world. Don't be scared. I’ll take care of you.”
Firm touches pulled apart her thighs. She gasped as the cold air rushed her wet flesh. Jalisa was fully exposed to him, or to anyone, for the first time. He kneeled again, and his rough stubble scratched her thigh. The thrill of it left her panting.
Erik mouth dipped low in between her legs. He kissed her quivering thighs a few times before parting her velvet folds with his fingers. Flicking his tongue out, he searched for her little bundle of nerves and was rewarded with a moan when he found it. Her fingers tangled in his hair and tugged him closer.
“Oh! Oh, wow,” she moaned. He ran his tongue eagerly over her.
She arched up, pushing her clit hard against his lips. Eyes fluttering closed, he worked to stroke out the sounds he wanted to hear the most. She complied, the pleasure flowing freely through her nubile body. He moaned as the pure, unadulterated taste of a woman's sex hit his tongue.
Jalisa tasted like the color red. She was want and desire poured over warm skin. Honeysuckle and vanilla. An electric touch. A thumping heartbeat. A groan. A blessing.
Erik’s cock hung hot and heavy between his legs. The instinct to wrap something around it was becoming too much to bear. One hand fell from her supple thigh and to his own erection. He was almost shocked at how hard he was, ready to slip inside her at any moment.
Wetness slicked between his fingers as he pushed them against her entrance. Increasing the pressure of his fevered licks, he penetrated her with only one. Her body tensed, but relaxed as he began to move around.
“You okay?” he asked, lips so close to her clit that she could feel his voice.
“Yes. Oh, fuck, yes,” she moaned. It was the first time anything remotely dirty had slipped from her lips. Two fingers. Three fingers. Now he could reach deep inside of her. She curled around him as he neared her cervix.
“Right there!” she cried. “Right there!”
Her hands pushed his face roughly against her clit as his long fingers pounded the back of her pussy. She got wetter and looser until she was a sloppy wet, cumming mess. Jalisa’s walls clenched around his fingers while she screamed. Fireworks exploded in her veins as she received her first orgasm from another person.
Jalisa’s eyes fluttered open to see him standing up between her legs. His pupils were dilated, hair wild, and her own wetness smeared on his chin. He brought the back of his arm up and wiped off his mouth, missing a corner. Erik’s eyes trailed down her shaking body, and she did the same to his. He grabbed her legs and pushed them to her chest. Erik kept her on the bed and put one knee up beside her, keeping one foot down on the ground for support.
“Take a deep breath.” Blunt fingernails still managed to bite into her soft thighs as he positioned himself at her entrance. He rubbed the head around her a few times, collecting her wetness on him. She inhaled deeply.
“Release it slowly,” he instructed. By the time he was fully inside of her, her exhale had turned into a moan. He was so big and thick and solid and there. Right there with her. Inside of her.
“Oh, fuck.” He let out a shaky breath as the warmth of he
r flesh overcame him. His eyes searched her face for any sign of pain, but found none. She gently encouraged him by caressing his face.
“Oh, fuck.” He bent over her while easing back and forth. Her hands reached up above her and found his back. She held on tightly as he began to move harder and harder.
“Don't stop. Don't stop,” she pleaded. Jalisa’s soft body rocked back and forth into him, hitting just the right angle deep inside of her. Her head lolled back and her body gripped him hard.
“God, I fucking love you.” His pushed his chest against her legs and pressed his lips to hers for a moment before the motion forced them to part. “You're perfect.”
“You're perfect,” she breathed. “I love you.”
The words rolled off of her tongue like nothing had ever before. It left a taste even more delicious than the tremors his cock brought her. They were together as one. Feeling pleasure as one. Connected as one. It was a promise of forever signed in sweat.
The emotions flowing between the two was almost as intense as the fire curling in her belly. Their eyes met and they felt closer than skin. Blue against black. White against brown. Trust. Love. Intimacy. Happiness. Lust.
As the minute trembling of Erik’s bottom lips grew harsher and the speed of his thrust grew sloppier, she reached a hand down and rubbed her clit to the edge. It was only when Erik came deep inside her with a growl that she brought herself to orgasm, free hand clawing at his back.
The two lay on the bed side by side, their pants filling the empty space. She tried to peel her sweat-covered back off of the blankets, but any movement rushed his cum out of her in a sticky mess. She lay back down. After a moment, he reached a trembling hand to her.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“Of course.” She intertwined her hand in his. “We made a mess though.”
“Mess be damned. It’s the fucking hotel,” he grumbled.
She pressed her head into the bed and laughed. For this moment suspended in time, everything felt okay.
Chapter 7
No one would call the street view from The Semya ‘beautiful’ or ‘picturesque,’ but the girls found the little four panel window fascinating. It gave a wealth of knowledge with just a glance. If the homeless man, Marco, was out dancing on the street, it meant that it was warm. If he was huddled in the corner, it was cold. If the liquor store was ignoring the posted closing time and serving drinks all night, then it was a holiday.
Over the next few days, the couple made love many more times. It was difficult to satisfy their need for each other while also keeping Stone and Marie in the dark. Erik would sit at the end of the bar, nursing an Old Fashioned and pretending not to look at her. When there was a lull in the crowd, Jalisa would take a ‘meal’ break and duck into the storage room. Erik would follow as soon as Marie turned her head.
Pants around their ankles and wetness smeared between their thighs, he had begun to enter Jalisa quickly and take her aggressively. Bent over the storage crate. Face pressed against the wall. On the ground. It didn't matter so long as they came together as one. Erik always apologized after these rough romps, but Jalisa assured him she was orgasming harder than ever.
During the times when they were not having sex, Erik was trying to make Jalisa feel like she was in a normal relationship. He took her to the movies or to a museum. They held hands and pressed sweet treats to each other's lips. From the outside, they looked completely normal. Just another couple. No one would ever suspect that he was a high up in the mafia and she was worried about being forced into prostitution.
Jalisa’s favorite spot to go to was the rose garden where they had their first date. She would collect fallen petals in a jar and write prayers in them. They discussed normal couple things, like plans for the future. She wanted a kitchen painted with pastels. He wanted granite countertops. She wanted a natural pool in the backyard. He wanted a brick pizza oven. They built their dream house while sitting on a stone bench.
During those times, Jalisa would close her eyes and could almost taste the future. She wondered if they would have kids. Kids who ran around barefoot in the yard while the smell of freshly cut grass drifted throughout the air. Fresh linen on the line. Jalisa and Erik curled up on the couch watching a DVD until one of the kids needs something.
Nikita was not too thrilled, but she was supportive. Jalisa had proclaimed her love for Erik and revealed that they were dating one night before bed. Nikita told her that was great, but the younger girl’s frown told a different story. It took a few days to figure it out, but Jalisa finally realized that she was jealous.
When Jalisa confronted her little sister, it was tense. She pried a bit too hard, but she had to make sure that Nikita didn’t still have a crush on Stone. Nikita buried her face in a pillow and cried. After her sobs subsided, she admitted that she was lonely. Nikita had no one her age to play with. Everyone who came to the bar was twenty-one and up. Jalisa had picked up pamphlets about sports Nikita could play, but with their schedule, it was hard to work out. Jalisa kissed her on her forehead and promised to talk to the pastor about setting up a movie trip or a play date with Nikita and Andre, his son.
It was another slow night at the bar. Those were the worst. Jalisa had already taken a ‘meal’ break and taking another one would look suspicious, yet she hadn’t had enough contact with Erik. She pushed off of the counter she was leaning against and mixed up another Old Fashioned, this time with a splash of cherry. Ignoring Marie’s prying looks, she crossed over to the end of the bar where Erik sat.
“This time I added a bit of cherry.” She slid the new drink to him and took away the half-finished old one. His blue eyes darted around nervously before curling a hand around it. She leaned over the bar, putting her full breasts on display. He groaned.
“Marie is looking.” His lips moved against the rim of the glass. The liquid sloshed in his mouth and he made an appreciative little noise.
“I know. I don’t care.” Jalisa didn’t even bother to glance at Marie. “I want to hang out with you.”
“‘Hang out’?” He lifted one dark eyebrow. “Is that code for what we’ve been doing in the break room?”
“No!” She laughed, lightly swatting his suit-clad arm. “It just means ‘talk.’ I want to know more about you.”
“Like what?” he asked.
“Tell me about your mother. Or your father.” She was actually interested in hearing more about his life in Russia (and the possibility that he might have a Russian wife or girlfriend), but she didn’t really know how to ask.
“My father is the easy one. He’s very simple. His motto was ‘Drink and Laugh until the Lord calls you Back.’ He followed it, too. Abrim that was his name.” Erik tipped his head back and laughed. “My mother called him her ‘Goat Abby.’ ‘Goat’ is what women call their husbands in Russia.”
“Maybe one day I will call you ‘Goat Ricky.’” Jalisa cocked her head and flashed him her brilliant white teeth.
“God, no.” He cringed, then quickly added, “Not that I don’t want you to call me Goat; I just hate being called Ricky.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Jalisa fluttered her eyelashes at him. If he expressed that he was never interested in marriage, then she would have had to think long and hard about their relationship. Jalisa didn’t take such big steps like giving a man her virginity without wanting to stay by his side till death do them part.
“Anyway, he was a joy to be around. He was a major alcoholic, yes, but not like the fathers you see on the American TV shows. He never raised a hand to my mother or any of his children. He tried once to spank me and my brother after we had been caught with a lit cigarette on school grounds when we were about...eh, ten or so. He couldn’t do it. He never spoke about it, but my mother told us in secret that his father, my grandfather, had beaten his wife and kids. My father couldn’t stand to do anything that hurt anyone after growing up in that.” Erik took another long swig of his drink.
“Did you ever meet your gra
ndfather? You speak about him like you don’t know him,” she said.
Jalisa thought about her own grandfathers. On her mother’s side, she had no clue who he was or anything about him other than he was monoracial passing mixed man who was mostly black with a little bit of something else. He came from a time where interracial relationships were taboo, and his race was not something he openly told people upon meeting them. Jalisa never got close enough to find out about it, even though his blood ran through her veins and meant she was slightly mixed. On her father’s side, her grandfather had died before she was born in a car accident. All she had of him were stories and a few pictures.
“I never met him. Okay, that’s a lie. I saw him once before he died. He was out walking around the streets of Russia in his underwear, screaming at children and throwing rocks at people. Apparently, he was diabetic and had been refusing medication for so long that his blood sugar was near eight hundred. I saw it on the news and then later on social media.” Erik shrugged. “This was before I had immigrated to America and obtained dual citizenship, so he’s probably dead by now.”
“What was your mother like? I remember that she told you to say she was your best friend so that I would fall in love with you.” Jalisa giggled, the feeling of love blossoming inside of her and reducing her to a lovesick schoolgirl.
“My mother was a complex woman. She was extremely proud and independent. Her first husband said that she could not buy a house she wanted, so she worked hard and bought it her damn self. At other times, she was soft. I would often lay awake in my bed as a child and listen to the muffled sobs coming through the walls. I knew without getting up that she would be sitting at the kitchen table, a cup of tea and a mountain of crumpled tissues in front of her. I assume she mostly cried about money. We were just another poor family in Russia, struggling to make ends meet. It put a lot of pressure on her.
“Sometimes my father’s voice could be heard comforting her. The only times he would not comfort her is when he was too drunk to do so. He most likely would have passed out on the couch. I think they had a happy marriage. I never saw them fight and I only heard them fight through walls about money. My father would drink up the water bill and we would have to collect snow and boil it to bathe for school and church. My father was goofy and would just make it into a joke or assure her that it was just money and they could make more of it.
Her Russian Millionaire (BWWM Romance Book 1) Page 7
