Paying The Bratva’s Debt

by Cole, Jagger

  I gelded him myself with a kitchen knife and had him dropped weeping in front of a hospital with his severed manhood in a brown paper bag.

  So, no. I may want Fiona with a fury that almost scares me. But when I take her to bed, she’ll be moaning for it.

  I take a breath, calming myself. I turn away from her, ending the conversation because I have to. I climb from the pool and stalk across the patio to the outdoor shower. The small enclosure is only partially private. Through the slats of the wood plank walls, I watch her. The water streams over me, cleansing the chlorine from my skin and my shorts. But my cock aches as I watch her look back at her book. The sun glistens off of her creamy skin, beckoning me. Enticing me.

  Goading me.

  Fiona rolls over onto her front, still reading her book. I shut the water off, clenching my jaw as I watch her. I step from the shower, knowing I should go inside. But I don’t. I can’t. It’s like there’s a magnetism about her sucking me in. And for all my strength and toughness, I can’t resist her. I barely even realize I’m stalking towards her until I’m standing right beside her.

  “You’ll burn.”

  She gasps, startled by me. She glances over her shoulder at me, blushing. Her teeth drag across her bottom lip again, and it’s all I can do not to groan out loud. My eyes slide over her back, glistening in the sunlight. They slide lower, over her tight, curvy ass and smooth thighs. But then I drag them back to her eyes.

  “The sunlight,” I growl. “Do you have any sunscreen on?”

  She half smiles. I’m sure she’s confused and maybe amused at the dangerous, rough Bratva kingpin worrying about her getting a goddamn sunburn.

  “I don’t actually. I wasn’t sure where—”

  “Wait here.”

  I walk over to the bar area by the side of the pool. Reaching into one of the cabinets, I pull out lotion and turn to walk back over to her. I don’t ask, I just squeeze some out onto my hands and look down at her.

  “Oh,” Fiona blushes deeply. “I can—”

  “I’ll get your back.”

  She trembles slightly. Her teeth drag across her lip, and I can see her face burning hotly. But there’s a glimmer in her eyes. And besides, I know her secret. I know what she does at night under her sheets in the dark, after looking at pictures of me without a shirt on.

  I sit on the edge of the lounger, reach over her, and lower my hands to her skin. I have to bite back the growl when my fingers touch her soft, warm skin. My cock thickens to steel in half a second as my hands slide across her back. The lotion slicks across her skin, and I feel her tremble beneath me. She lowers her head, her red hair tumbling across her face.

  I slide up and down, kneading her skin and the muscles beneath. A low, soft little sound escapes her lips. I know it’s a sigh of contentment. But it’s so similar to a moan of pleasure that it ignites the fire in me. My fingers drag slickly over her skin. Without hesitating, they pluck at the tie of her top. Fiona gasps when she feels me do it. But when it falls to her sides and my hands are no longer hindered, she murmurs softly.

  I bite back the growl. My desire surges as my hands slide down to the small of her back. I pour more of the lotion onto her skin and knead it deeply. She moans again for me, writhing a little beneath my touch. I can see her ass flexing and her thighs clenching together. It makes me want to yank those thighs apart and see where else needs my attention.

  One of my hands stays on the small of her back. The other slides over her hips and then down the backs of her thighs. I rub deeply, my fingers curling down into the valley between her legs. Fiona whimpers, sending my hunger racing to the surface. Her body quivers under my touch. Her breathing gets faster. And then her legs spread—not overly, but just enough to make my balls swell.

  Wordlessly, I slide my hand higher. And then higher still, up the inside of her thigh. She’s whimpering overtly now, moaning softly. My fingers brush higher until they stop just short of where her bikini bottom is pulled tight between her legs. Christ, I can almost feel the heat of her little cunt through the black lycra.

  And then she moans. If she’d stayed quiet, I may have stopped myself. But that sound wrecks my control. She moans softly, and my hand keeps moving. I slide it up until my knuckles drag over her pussy, through her suit. Fiona gasps and then moans sweetly. She whimpers into her arms, and I feel her legs widen as she lifts her hips.

  I grin hungrily. She’s as eager for this as I am.

  I boldly cup her eager cunt, and I groan as I lean over her.

  “You’re wet for me,” I growl.

  Fiona whimpers, her breath coming in hitches.

  “I—I—”

  “I like that you’re wet for me,” I groan. My hand cups her pussy a little firmer, and I start to rub. My one hand is massaging the small of her back, but the one between her thighs begins to tease. My cock is straining against my shorts like it might tear a hole in them. But my focus is all her.

  My finger drags up and down her seam through the black suit. I can feel her getting even warmer and wetter under my touch. She squirms, whimpering and moaning softly even as I keep teasing her. My hunger grows, surging inside until I can’t resist it any longer. With a low growl, I slide my fingers under the edge of her suit and slip them inside.

  Fiona moans eagerly when my fingers slide over her bare pussy. She’s fucking drenched for me, too. I push my fingers over her slickness, parting her lips to seek her entrance. I drag my finger up and down before centering on her clit. She gasps sharply, and I watch her fingers claw at the pool lounger. Beneath the tousles of her red hair, I can see her face crumpling in pleasure as I slowly rub her aching little button.

  I add pressure—both with my hand pinning her to the chair by the small of her back, and with my finger on her clit. I rub faster in deliberate circles as she moans into the chair. Her ass rises, pushing back greedily for my hand. Her slick desire coats my fingers as I roll her clit over and over.

  I lean over her, until my lips are right by her neck. I growl deeply into her ear as she gasps, panting in desire.

  “Come for me,” I snarl quietly. “Come for me right fucking now.”

  She jolts, bucks against my hand, and then chokes out a moan. I can feel her body react to my demand, coming instantly for me. Her pussy floods my fingers with her wetness and she buries a scream into the crook of her arm. I let my fingers stroke through her dewy lips once more, before I slowly pull away.

  Desire roars inside of me. I care not that it’s broad daylight. I don’t give a shit anymore about anything except taking this girl, right here and now. My cock hungers for her, straining obscenely at the confines of my shorts.

  But then suddenly, I hear footsteps. With a furious curse, I slip my hand from her bikini bottoms. Fiona’s blushing deeply as she scrambles, reaching back to quickly tie her top back up. I glance up as Nina strides around the corner. She narrows her eyes, shaking her head at me. And I know it’s because I’m sitting on the edge of Fiona’s pool chair, shirtless, with her in a damn bikini.

  “Viktor,” she says curtly. Now I know she’s pissed. Nina might call me by my first name when we’re alone. But around others aside from Lev, she defers to Mr. Komarov. I know instantly that the “Viktor” is her admonishing me for being so cavalier with a girl who is decidedly my prisoner.

  “Yes?” I growl. I don’t stand, because it would be obscene given my current state.

  Nina purses her lips. Her eyes drop past me to Fiona, but then they snap back to me. “Your…” she frowns. “Your guests of honor have arrived. Lev is with them, at the docks.”

  I stiffen, but then relief washes through me. “Good,” I growl. I let the tension out with a slow exhale. “Good. Thank you, Nina. I’ll be inside in a minute, if you could have the car ready.”

  She nods. “Will do.” Her eyes dart past me to Fiona again. But then she shrugs, turns, and marches off.

  I turn back to Fiona. She’s blushing darkly, her face red and her eyes wide. But she doesn’t
look away when my gaze finds hers.

  “I have work,” I say quietly.

  She nods, still blushing.

  “It’s a good thing I was here,” I grunt softly.

  “So that I wouldn’t get sunburned?” she asks softly.

  “So that you wouldn’t have to wait until nighttime to do that to yourself again.”

  Her mouth falls open as her face grows an entirely new shade of crimson.

  “I—”

  I smile hungrily and lean close. “Or perhaps you still will, but just with something better to think about now than just fantasy.” I look her in the eye as she blushes furiously. I slowly bring my hand to my lips, and I suck the very fingers that were just rubbing her pussy to orgasm into my mouth and lick them clean.

  Fiona watches with wide, lust-filled eyes, her face beet red. Her lips quiver like she’s desperately looking for something to say to save herself. But before she can say a thing, I move. I lean down, my hand slides into her hair, and I yank her mouth to mine. She stiffens and then melts against me as I kiss her. My desire throbs inside, my cock rock-hard. I kiss her slowly and deeply, before I gently pull away.

  As much as I want to drag her to my bed, I have business. I stand, smiling to myself at the way her eyes fall and widen on the huge bulge in my shorts. Then I turn and walk away, the taste of her sweet little cunt like candy on my lips.

  9

  Fiona

  My entire body throbs with heat and desire. Back in my quarters, still in my bathing suit, it feels like I’m trembling on a knife’s edge. On one side, lust, desire, and the deliciously dirty knowledge that I’ve just come by someone else’s fingers but my own for the very first time. On that side, I want to wait by the front door for him to come back so that I can jump him. I want to kiss him until my lips are bruised. I want to touch him the way he touched me.

  But on the other side of that knife’s edge is confusion and doubt. It’s fear at the unknown. That side of me genuinely wonders what the events of earlier even mean to a man like Viktor. He’s a dangerous man who runs this city like a shadowy Czar. He’s rich beyond imagination, and ridiculously gorgeous. I mean how many girls has he had as “prisoners” at this palace of a house? How many have become his little poolside playthings?

  I scowl and glare at the floor. I hate that I’m jealous of imaginary women. I hate that the dangerous criminal who literally kidnapped me is even capable of making me jealous. And yet I can’t tell if I want to slap him or yank his pants off.

  I change out of my suit. I blush, remembering the feel and intimacy of his hands on me. I rinse off in the shower and then slip into comfortable pajama pants and a long-sleeved t-shirt. I pace my quarters, feeling more and more like a trapped lab rat, until I can’t stand it anymore. With a pursed mouth, I turn and head for the door to go for a real walk to clear my head.

  But it’s locked. I frown, yanking at the doorknob. I rattle it, glaring at the knob that won’t budge. Eventually, I start to pound on the door, yelling. I can hear someone on the other side, too.

  “Hey! Hey! Open the fucking door!”

  I hear the sound of a phone being dialed, then a masculine grunt and a few words in Russian. The man goes quiet, and I start pounding again.

  “Hey! Open this door!”

  The man is talking again in Russian. But this time, I hear a woman’s voice too. The lock clicks open. I step back as the door swings open, blinking in surprise when it’s Nina who steps in.

  “Yes?” she says testily.

  “What?”

  “Yes, what is it you need?”

  I frown. “I need to not be locked in my rooms. I was going to go for a walk.”

  She looks at me impassively. “What do you need? I’ll have it sent up—”

  “I don’t need anything to be brought up to me. I’m not a princess locked in a freaking tower.”

  She smirks. But I just glare back.

  “I want to go for a walk.”

  “Are your quarters not large enough for you?” she says sarcastically.

  “Guess not,” I snap back.

  Nina sighs. “Well, I’m sorry, but you’ll need to stay in your quarters.”

  “Says who!?”

  She shrugs “Mr. Komarov says so. While he’s gone, you’re to stay in your quarters.”

  I gape at her. “That’s insane!”

  She shrugs again. “Mr. Komarov was quite clear in his instructions.”

  “What am I, a prisoner?” I blurt.

  Nina smiles. “Ms. Murray, what would have given you the impression that you were not a prisoner here?” I glare at her furiously. But she doesn’t seem phased. “Well, if you do need something brought up, just let your guard know through the door.”

  She turns smartly on her heel to walk out.

  “You know it’s not my freaking fault if my being here throws a wrench in your little crush on your boss,” I spit at her back. Nina freezes. “I didn’t exactly ask to come here, you know.”

  Slowly, she turns to look at me with amusement. “My what?”

  “Your crush, or whatever your freaking story is with Viktor. I don’t care, Nina. I’m not trying to get in the way of anything, okay?”

  “Ms. Murray—”

  “You very clearly hate me for being close to him or stepping on whatever history you have with him. But if you could lose the attitude about something I have zero fucking choice in, I’d really appreciate it, got it?!”

  She looks at me, her smile widening. Slowly, she starts to laugh softly. My temper flares as I glare at her.

  “Oh, that’s funny to you?”

  “Yes,” she smiles, chuckling softly. “It’s amusing to me how little you understand about what’s going. Now, if there’s nothing else, I have my pathetic, jaded little ‘crush’ on my boss to get back to.” She rolls her eyes, shaking her head. “I haven’t quiet finished writing ‘Mrs Nina Komarov’ on my schoolbooks yet, you know.”

  She gives me a sarcastic sneer, whirls on her heel, and leaves. The door closes and locks behind her, and my anger throbs. I hiss furiously and whirl to stomp across my quarters. I angrily sit at the vanity I was using as a desk before. I grab a legal pad and a pen, and I start to write.

  I don’t really know what it is I think I’m doing. But I start to write out detailed accounts of everything I’ve seen at Viktor’s house, and what I’ve overheard since being taken by him. It’s not much, but it feels like I’m doing something. Maybe it feels like I’m taking out insurance or something.

  I list the weapons I’ve seen around his house that I’m sure are illegal. I detail my own captivity, and how I’m not allowed to leave my own room, under guard. I write about Viktor’s land deal with a known criminal, both of them working through shady shell companies. I even detail how Viktor was using me—a captive, and not a real attorney—to leverage Joey Drucci with their arrangement.

  I know what Viktor’s told me the property is for. And he was even fairly convincing about it. But the more I think on it, the more I realize how bullshit it is. There’s no way that man is opening a freaking home for lost children or whatever on that property. It just doesn’t add up. Not the utter fortune it would take to open something that will most certainly lose, not make, money. Nor does the idea of a man as ruthlessly vicious as Viktor Komarov building something so selflessly giving.

  I go back to the paperwork for the land and the condemned factory that sits on it. I look at trucking routes nearby, and its access to the airport and lake ports. I don’t have proof, but I have enough business paperwork and past accusations against Viktor to put together some ideas. Under what I’ve already written, I list my thoughts on what he most likely is using the property for—gun trafficking, possibly a narcotics distribution center.

  When I’m done, I sit back and glare at what I’ve written. I’m still angry, but it feels good to get that all out. It’s like insta-therapy. As good as he felt earlier, and as much as he made me want to throw myself at him, he’s still w
hat he is. He may have made me feel things I’ve never felt before, not even with just myself. But he’s still a monster. He’s still a merciless, ruthless Bratva kingpin.

  I end up shoving the garbage I’ve written into a drawer of the vanity. I walk over to the bed and throw myself across it. I’m still feeling pissed and confused. So I pick up my phone and call Zoey. I know damn well someone—maybe even Nina herself—is listening in on my conversation. But I don’t care. I just need someone to talk to who isn’t part of my imprisonment.

  “Hey, girl!”

  I smile. “Hey yourself.”

  “So, really, are you ever coming back from New York? Or are you just going to stay there now that you’re a big-shot lawyer.”

  I roll my eyes. “Not a lawyer, Zoey. I still need to take the Bar.”

  “Well, enough of one that big firms want to wine and dine your fancy ass,” she teases.

  I smile, but I still feel like shit for lying to my friend. Zoey seems to sense it, too.

  “What’s going on, Fiona? You seem out of it.”

  I shrug. “I don’t know…”

  “C’mon, spill it. Is the job offer still good?”

  “It’s fine, yeah,” I mumble. “It’s just… I don’t know.”

  “Maybe you’re just homesick?” she ventures.

  “Maybe…” I shrug to myself. “I don’t, Zoey. Yeah, maybe that’s it.”

  “How’s the office been?”

  I glance around sullenly at my quarters.

  “Limiting.”

  “The potential co-workers?”

  I think of Nina’s condescending sneers. “Petty.”

  Zoey sighs. “Shit, I’m sorry. How about your boss, though?”

  “Oh my God, a bossy, pushy, domineering prick.” I don’t give a shit that I’m probably being listened to by Viktor’s own people. Good. They can tell him exactly what I think.

  “He walks into every room like he owns it, Zoey. And everything’s this growly thing with him. Like he can’t just talk, he has to growl it like this macho man thing. And he’s so controlling, and grumpy, and he’s got that clenched jaw scowl thing constantly.”