“You’re so beautiful, Inessa,” he whispers.
He lifts his eyes and smirks before his tongue flattens against my center, and he licks all the way up to my clit, flicking it when he’s tasted me.
“Nik,” I whimper, sliding my fingers through his long hair.
“Never leave me, Nessa,” he murmurs against my pussy.
I don’t get a chance to respond before his mouth covers me and his tongue slides inside, fucking me. My back arches off of the bed as I push myself closer to him with a moan, my fingers tightening their grasp in his hair.
He feels so good, so warm against me that I wish he could be here forever. Dominik’s mouth moves up and he sucks my clit between his teeth as two fingers slide inside of me. I roll my hips with a gasp as his fingers fuck me like only his can.
“Come, Inessa,” he practically growls.
His fingers surge inside of me, moving and playing me exactly right. With his tongue circling and flicking my clit, I finally come undone around him. He pulls his fingers out of me quickly, and I try to brace for his cock entering me, but it doesn’t; instead, he continues to lap at me.
“Dominik?”
He doesn’t say anything as he continues licking me, and then he stops and stands. I watch through lowered lids as he strips himself completely naked for me. His blue inked tattoos on display in the sunshine of the bedroom. He grins when his eyes catch mine, knowing I’m watching him.
“Hands and knees, Nessa,” he murmurs, his deep voice rumbling. I do as he’s instructed, quickly.
Dominik enters me slowly and wraps an arm around my chest, one of his hands holding onto my breast tightly as he lifts my hands off of the bed. Bringing my arms up, I wrap my hands around the back of his neck while he eases himself in and out of me.
“Your pussy is my heaven, my home, Inessa,” he whispers against my neck. “Never take my home away from me. Never leave me.”
I don’t say anything, my body trembling against his. With his free hand, he unwraps one of my arms from around his neck and guides it to our connection, forcing me to cup myself, spreading my fingers around his cock, feeling the wetness as he gently thrusts in and out of my pussy.
“You feel that?” he murmurs. “This is where you belong, Nessa.”
“Nik,” I moan, feeling myself climbing toward a second release, knowing that when it happens, it’s going to be explosive. “I’m not going anywhere,” I whisper, turning my head to press my lips against his jaw.
“Fuck no, you’re not,” he grunts as he starts to thrust a little harder.
“I need to come, baby,” I whimper.
“Not yet.”
“Dominik,” I whine.
“Yagodka, close your eyes and relax. Just feel me moving inside of you for a while,” he urges.
I let out a long exhale and do as he asks. I lie back, pressing my lips against his warm neck, and I force my body to relax and accept everything he’s giving me. His soft grunts are the only sounds filling the room as my body begins to tremble, my legs shaking as I climb closer and closer toward the edge of my release.
“Let go. Soar, my temptress,” he growls as his teeth sink into the side of my neck.
I arch my back as I cry out. My entire body quivers, jerks, and shakes as I fall over the edge and climax so hard, I see nothing but black all around me. I hear Dominik grunt faintly in the background as his arm and hand around my breasts tighten.
“Inessa,” he murmurs as his lips touch my neck.
“Nik,” I mewl.
He chuckles as he slides from my body and gently picks me up in his strong arms, carrying me into the bathroom.
“I just did my makeup. I can’t get my face wet,” I slur, sounding drunk. Maybe I am—drunk off of him.
“We’ll take a nice bath,” he chuckles.
Once we’re in the bathroom, he starts the water while I quickly clean up. By the time I have my hair secured up in a messy bun, the tub is ready.
“It’s not too hot is it?” I ask as I shakily walk toward him.
“No, yagodka,” he smiles, taking my hand and helping me inside before he sinks down behind me.
“I’m supposed to go into the office,” I mumble, lying back against him.
“Can you work from home this week?” he asks as his hands span my stomach, covering my baby bump completely.
“Is everything okay?” I ask, knowing that it isn’t. There must be something wrong.
He’s here right after his meeting, in the middle of the morning, and he’s asking me to stay home this week.
“Just would prefer you stay home, is all,” he says, trying to sound nonchalant.
“I can, but I need to know why, Nik,” I gently push.
“The meeting didn’t go as well as I’d hoped. The hitman is still out there, and until it’s resolved, I’d feel better if you were safe here, with the security the apartment holds,” he admits. I can’t help but feel a tad victorious.
“Will you be home, too?” I ask.
“Is that what you want, yagodka, hmm?” he hums.
“We can get things ready for the house, order furniture, stuff like that,” I shrug.
“I’ll stay home with you as much as I can, how about that?”
I grin at his compromise. This—this is how our marriage is supposed to be, give and take.
“Then, yes, I’ll do as you’ve asked.”
“What a good girl,” he growls, nipping my neck the same place he bit me when he was inside of me.
I know I’ll have a bruise there, possibly even an outline of his teeth, but I don’t care.
We spend another twenty minutes in the tub, whispering sweet nothings to each other until the water turns too cold to stay in a moment longer.
Dominik helps me from the tub, drying me off with one of the big fluffy towels, and we go back into the bedroom. I change into a pair of soft cotton pajama pants and a tank top, knowing I’m no longer going into work, so I can be completely comfy.
“You rest for a bit while I do some work, then I’ll order lunch,” Dominik murmurs, tucking some hair behind my ear.
“How about I make lunch for us?” I ask.
“All right, Inessa,” he chuckles, as though I’m just silly, and kisses the tip of my nose.
Rolling my eyes, I walk into the living room behind him, watching as he continues toward his office. I turn the television on for background noise and start to make lunch for us.
When Inessa asked me to stay with her this week, I couldn’t turn her down. If something happens to her, it won’t be because I wasn’t around to protect her. My sole mission is to guard my wife and child. Nothing else on earth matters.
I power on my computer as I press send on my phone to call Yakov.
“Chekov,” he grunts into the phone.
“Should I send her to a safe house?” I ask immediately.
“Not yet. Let’s get this meeting over with tonight, first,” he suggests. I nod, even though I know he can’t see me.
“I don’t have a good feeling about any of this,” I admit.
“I know. Me either,” he says, making me feel that much worse.
“I’ll pick you up at nine,” I suggest. He confirms before we hang up.
The only play I could make would be to send her to Denver, to some of our men who are living there. She’d be safe there, but she’d be so far away from me, I don’t know that I could handle it. I need to see her, touch her, and kiss her to know for certain that she’s alive, breathing, and safe.
The day goes by quickly. After lunch, both Inessa and I engross ourselves on our computers, working diligently together. She sits on the sofa in my office, her laptop across her legs and her eyes focused on her screen. I do the same, but behind my desk, glancing up at her every so often to make sure she’s okay.
“Matvey and Stas will be staying with you for a few hours this evening,” I mention casually over dinner.
I ordered in, knowing that Inessa cooked lunch and worked j
ust as many hours as I did today. I didn’t want her to have to cook dinner as well.
“Where are you going?” she asks, her voice a little higher than usual.
“I have a meeting with Pasha and Yakov about everything. We have to figure some things out.”
“But you’ll be home tonight?” she asks, almost in a panic.
“Of course, yagodka. I’ll be home hopefully around midnight. My meeting starts at ten,” I inform her. She nods as she drops her eyes.
“It’s going to be okay, Inessa,” I assure her. She must believe me because she gives me a beautiful smile and the fear leaves her eyes.
Once we’ve eaten and Matvey and Stas have arrived, I leave her with a goodnight kiss. I’ve updated both Byki on the situation. They’re not to let anybody into the apartment, and all doors are to be locked the entire time I’m gone. I remind them that one person must have visual contact on her at all times.
I light a cigarette as I walk to my car. I haven’t smoked much lately, but right now, I need something to calm my nerves. I’m stressed out, nervous, and, frankly, fucking terrified that someone is going to take my Inessa from me.
I park in front of Yakov’s home and text him that I’m waiting on him in the drive. A few minutes later, he walks outside, Ashley right behind him. She gives me a wave, and I return it.
Yakov speaks to her before he lowers his head, placing his hand on her big round belly and his lips on hers. She’s about to go into labor any day now, and I wonder if I will ever see Inessa so heavy with my child?
“Ready for this?” Yakov asks, sliding into my car.
“No,” I admit.
“How is she doing?” he asks, inquiring about Inessa.
“I’ve only told her the minimum. She’s frightened, but she’s doing good. Matvey and Stas are with her right now, and she’s agreed to stay home for the week.”
“We’ll get this handled. We’ll come to an agreement on how to handle it and be done with it all by Saturday,” Yakov states.
I want to believe him, but part of me doesn’t. What they’re asking, and then what they’re threatening, is no little thing. The Cartel also have muscle and power to back whatever they decide, which makes them dangerous in and of themselves. I can only hope that our sheer numbers, with the Irish and the Motorcycle Club, will make them run away, pissing their pants.
“Ready?” Yakov asks as I put the car in park.
No, I’m not, but I don’t say that. I nod and follow his lead, getting out of the car and then walking behind him as we go toward Pasha’s front door.
Once we walk inside, there are some men milling around. Another Pakhan, this one from New Jersey, several Sovietniks, and a whole slew of Brigadiers. Pasha ushers us into his living room, and I watch as he turns his television on and two screens pop up, one where Kirill sits facing a camera, and one with Sergei, who lives in Russia.
“I’ve briefed everybody on what the Cartel proposed and threatened so that we can get right into this meeting,” Pasha announces.
“What are we proposing? I’m telling you now, if we work with the Cartel, our Notorious Devils contract will end,” Kirill says. I nod in agreement. The motorcycle club despises the Cartel.
“Can we sustain a war? Do we want to?” Sergei asks.
“We’ve been on the brink of war for years now. It’s bound to happen sooner or later. There are still plenty of men here from the mishap with the Irish,” Petya, Yakov’s Sovietnik, says.
“The Cartel is a big undertaking,” Kirill murmurs.
“You sent them running scared, I think we can do the same with the Irish at our backs,” Pasha mutters.
“We had the element of surprise, which is the only way it worked. They’re expecting shit to go down now,” Kirill states.
“They’ll start kidnapping girls, I know they will,” one of the Brigadier’s announces.
“They will,” Pasha nods.
“War?” Petya asks, looking around.
“Can we find out where they’re centralized in the area?” Yakov asks.
“We’ll set a meet on their turf. They pick the location. Maybe we won’t attack then; we’ll put men on them, see where they go afterward,” Pasha suggests. The men all nod in agreement.
“Then we strike,” I say.
“Then we strike,” Pasha agrees. “Are we all in agreement?”
The room erupts in ayes from every single man, including Sergei and Kirill.
“I’ll call Patrick O’Neil right now. We’ll have those Latin fucks out of our hair before Christmas,” Pasha practically growls.
Everybody disperses, and while I should feel a weight lifted from my shoulders, I don’t. It feels even heavier. War. A fucking war. No matter what anybody says, it’s my fault.
“This will be nothing but a bad memory by New Year’s,” Yakov mutters, wrapping his hand around my shoulder.
I just hope that both Inessa and I are alive to see the outcome of it all.
THE MEET SEEMED TOO easy to set up. Maybe it’s just my own paranoia, but they were all too willing to accept and set the date, time, and place. Taco Matamoros on 5th street in Sunset Park. It’s almost comical that the place they’ve chosen is so obvious. It makes me wonder if it’s too obvious, too easy.
“O’Neil and his men have their orders?” I ask as I fidget in the back of the SUV.
I’m allowed on this mission, but only because the only surviving men will be Bratva and Irish. No Cartel will walk out of that restaurant alive. Yakov coughs before he nods.
“They set up their snipers before the sun came up. They are on rooftops, or inside of buildings, and waiting by windows surrounding the place. Nobody will come in on us for this,” he explains again.
I can’t help the fact that I’m nervous. Pasha, Yakov, and I don’t have guns. We all know that we’ll be searched, as they would be if any one of them walked into a meeting with us—like Felipe and Sergio were just a few days ago.
We pull up to the restaurant, and I’m surprised to see the street fairly empty. Though it’s still early, at seven in the morning, and most of the businesses around don’t open until nine or ten. Hopefully, we’ll be gone by the time they open up shop.
The three of us exit the SUV and walk up to the door. Before any one of us even begins to reach for the handle, the door is opened and a tall, wide man, heavy with bulky muscle, opens the door. We each are allowed to take one step inside before he frisks us. With a chin lift, we are able to pass and make our way to a table in the center of the room.
My eyes scan the space, and I notice that we’re surrounded by at least ten men, not including the seated men at the table. I know that our own Bratva men are only a block away, waiting for thirteen minutes exactly to pass before they come in and we demolish these fucks, sending them back to wherever they came from, as long as it all goes off without a hitch.
“Felipe, Sergio,” Pasha says, dipping his chin. They’re sitting on either side of another man, flanking him. He must be the one in charge, the El Jefe.
“El Jefe,” the stranger announces. I fight everything inside of me not to roll my eyes at him.
Introducing himself as boss, instead of by his name, is an insult. It would be as if Pasha introduced himself as Pakhan to Patrick O’Neil. It’s rude, and it’s as if he’s saying Pasha is below him, Pasha or Yakov, which they are not. Their rankings are equal.
“Pasha Vetrov, Yakov Chekov, and Dominik Markov,” Pasha introduces. The El Jefe doesn’t even lift so much as his chin in greeting—another insult.
“You’ve thought of our proposal and you’re here to agree?” El Jefe asks, not even inviting us to sit down. Another fucking insult.
“We’d like to discuss specifics,” Yakov says.
“What specifics? You supply pussy, I supply you with cocaine and a little cash, plus the hit on Inessa Markova is cancelled. Nothing left to discuss,” he shrugs.
“Specifically, we aren’t sure we want to go back to supplying Russian pussy to any
body,” Pasha grinds out as he crosses his arms over his chest.
“Do you know the demand for your Russian girls is more than I could keep up with if you gave me access to all of them? You’re really only hurting yourself if you don’t take this opportunity,” he shrugs.
“How else do we get the hit taken care of?” I ask, speaking for the first time.
El Jefe sucks some air through his teeth a few times before he decides to speak.
“The hit stays if I don’t get my fresh pussy. My men told you this already. You’re wasting my time. And don’t think by telling me no right now that I won’t just take the pussy. I’m giving you an opportunity to work with me, not against me. You should play smarter, like the elder Chekov did, and accept my terms,” he chuckles, narrowing his eyes on Yakov.
Pasha opens his mouth to say something, but promptly closes it when the whole room fills with Russians. Without a word, every single Cartel man is down on the ground, blood dripping from their head, neck or chest.
Except El Jefe.
“Who is the contact for the hit?” Pasha asks, looking down at him.
He presses his lips together, refusing to speak. That is, until one of the men hands Pasha a knife. He holds it to El Jefe’s neck, pointing it at the base, but not hard enough to inflict any damage—yet.
“Care to enlighten me on who was given payment and instruction to perform a hit on one of my Brigadier’s wives?” Pasha asks, his voice deeper and more menacing than before.
“You won’t find him, and the bitch will die before you do,” El Jefe mumbles.
“Dominik, you have any openings for whores in the brothels?” Pasha asks as he takes El Jefe’s phone from his pocket.
“You’re going to threaten with putting my wife in a whore house,” El Jefe laughs. “I’ve whored her out to so many men, her pussy wouldn’t make you a dime. I had to start using her ass,” he shrugs.
My back straightens, but I show no reaction to his vile words. Using his wife that way? I couldn’t imagine using my Inessa like that at all. If any man even laid one finger on her, I’d fucking kill him, maiming him before I was finished.
“Nobody wants your wife, El Jefe. But that sweet little piece you keep on the side, and her three little daughters that look an awful lot like you, now they would be something I’d be interested in using,” Pasha grins.
Tempting the Badman (Russian Bratva #5) Page 27
