Sold to the Biker: A Dark MC Romance

by Bella Rose

  “What do you think I’m going to say?” I snorted. “I need to assure the men that there will be no change. Everything is business as usual.”

  “How can there be business as usual when our Pekhan is dead?” Sasha looked suspicious. “And Antonin is dead now too? I did not support his claim to be our next Pekhan, but there are whispers that he was Boris’s bastard son. That would have given him claim.”

  “Boris never claimed him,” I reminded Sasha. “Gather the men. Tell them that I am going to make an announcement about the future of the Romanovs. Tell them that I have Boris’s wishes.”

  Sasha gave a curt nod and left to do as I asked, but I had a bad feeling that I was in for an uphill battle.

  Anya

  I blinked my eyes and tried to decide where I was. It was warm. That was nice. I was so cold. When I touched my arms, I felt a shot of pain lance through my body. The shock reminded me that I had been in a horrible accident earlier. There had been an explosion, and then a fire, and then maybe some other kind of explosion. Or perhaps that had all been in the wrong order. My mind was so jumbled up.

  Papa was dead.

  That thought hit almost immediately. I felt the tears hit, and I rolled my face into my pillow. I sobbed until I could sob no more. My ribs ached with the force of holding back the screams that wanted to rip out of my throat. Papa was not just dead. He had taken his own life. Yet somehow this did not make me want to follow him into death. Just the opposite. If Papa had truly been so tired and so ready to move on, then why would I not want to live my life to the fullest. I should appreciate every single second that I had.

  I wanted to spend it with Vasily. I think I had known that for a while. I know I had. This relationship we had was so messed up. It could never be considered “normal.” There had been no average progression. No dating. No getting to know one another in a gradual manner. It had been down and dirty sex, furious physical longing, and a gradual appreciation of everything that the man had to offer.

  Struggling to sit up, I pushed the blanket down and stretched. I was so sore. There was not a part of me that did not hurt. I could still barely wrap my mind around the notion that Antonin had been my brother. He would have married me and then murdered me, and yet he had been my father’s son. It was a chilling thought.

  The loud sound of men’s voices caught my attention. What was going on? It sounded as though every last Romanov was gathered downstairs. Why?

  I put my feet on the floor and stood up. My shoes were gone. I didn’t remember taking them off, but then I did not remember coming into my bedroom at all. The last thing I did remember was sinking to the floor in my father’s office. Vasily had been there. Precious Vasily who had taken such care of me!

  It was a few short steps to the bedroom door. I pushed it open and stepped into the hall. That was when I spotted Vasily standing in the place where I had seen my father stand so many times during my younger years. It was the balcony where he could address all of the men down in the first-floor atrium below.

  Vasily

  I was losing control of the situation so quickly that it felt like a landslide coming down on top of me. The shouts below in Russian and English all seemed eager to string me up on the nearest tree. They blamed me! How could they blame me for this mess we found ourselves in?

  “You murdered Antonin!” one of his men shouted. “He was the true heir of Boris Romanov! Antonin should have been Pekhan!”

  I pointed at the dissenter. “Antonin would have married his half sister—our Anya—and then murdered her just to get control of the Romanov holdings. Boris put the organization into Anya’s hands! Does that mean nothing to you men?”

  “And you’re fucking Anya!” Someone else shouted to be heard above the mutterings and angry retorts. “So that makes you the Pekhan? Why should it? Two days ago, Antonin was claiming that he had Boris’s support! Now he’s dead and you killed him!”

  “No!”

  I whipped around, shocked to hear Anya’s voice. She was approaching slowly and a little unsteadily, but under her own power. I held out my hand. She took it without hesitation. Putting her arm around my waist, she laid her cheek against my chest. I inhaled of her hair. Even the lingering scent of smoke could not overpower her feminine allure.

  “I killed Antonin!” Her words carried to every corner of the house. “I did not intend that my father should take his own life now and create all of this unrest within our family, but that wasn’t my choice. My father made his own choices, and I’m sure he had his reasons.” I saw her swallow. “Now I’m asking all of you to follow Vasily as your Pekhan. He was my father’s choice. I promise you that. My papa even arranged for Vasily and I to marry.”

  Sasha shushed those around him so that he could speak. “And are you going to marry him?”

  “Yes.” She turned and gave me a smile so beautiful that my stomach nearly fell into my boots. “I’m going to marry him just as soon as someone finds a priest.”

  “What about the Orlovs?” someone else shouted. “The word on the street is that we’re at war with them!”

  I felt the familiar tightening in my gut. There was every possibility that we were indeed at war with the Orlovs. Beside me I felt Anya take hold of my hand. She nuzzled my fingers and placed a gentle kiss on my bruised and battered knuckles.

  “Tell them the truth,” she whispered.

  “Antonin murdered the Orlov Pekhan.” I gazed at every one of those men. I was asking them to follow me. It was no small thing. I needed to deserve their trust. I needed to know that I deserved it. Did I? Was I really certain that I could do this job?

  “I love you,” Anya murmured to me. “No matter what happens, we’re all in this together.”

  She was right. That was the only truth that mattered. I gestured at the men standing in the room. “Right now, the Orlovs all know that Antonin had gone rogue. He had promised them things that he didn’t have a right to promise. That was on him. They know that.” I made a fist and set my jaw. I wanted to show them that we were strong enough for this fight. “But if they come knocking, they’re going to know that the Romanovs are still strong and united. We are not weak. And we will never back down from a fight!”

  There was a moment of silence, and then the room erupted into shouts and war cries that made my ears ring. Beside me, Anya was laughing. I looked down at her. She was so beautiful. Perhaps right then I knew that if she were by my side, all things would be not only possible, but also totally awesome.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Anya

  I leaned in close to Vasily’s side and stood on tiptoe to whisper in his ear. “This receiving line is taking forever! Tell me again why we have to stand here?”

  “Because our men are swearing their loyalty.” His lips barely moved when he talked.

  I fought back a giggle. I felt a little punch-drunk. And why shouldn’t I be? I’d just gotten married. I had committed my life to Vasily’s and promised to love him forever. Well, that or until the next crazy adventure killed us. Whichever came first, right?

  Daisy bounded up to me, looking pretty as a picture. She was beaming. “It was beautiful! And planned in just three months! You should offer a service or something.”

  “I should,” I agreed. Leaning in, I wrapped her in a warm hug. I did not add that the reason we’d had to wait three months was so the wounds healed enough for either of us to be fit enough to walk down the aisle. Otherwise, I would have married Vasily the day after my father’s suicide.

  Daisy pulled back, giving sideways glances to all the Romanov men milling about. “Who are all the beefcakes? Seriously. You’ve got the hottest wedding guests in the city.”

  “These are—employees,” I told her with a wink. “You know how it is.”

  “And can I just say how glad I am that you’ve decided to keep teaching?” Daisy gushed. I loved my friend, but she’d always been a tad on the dramatic side. “There is no way I could handle being at school every day without you.”
r />   “I love teaching.”

  Daisy bumped my shoulder. “As long as you don’t have to teach a unit on organized crime.”

  I snorted. Her campy twisted sense of humor had been invaluable in the last three months as I recovered from my father’s death and the mess that Antonin had left behind.

  “So.” Daisy sent a meaningful glance toward Vasily. “Is there a reason why the two of you didn’t plan a reception?”

  “I would think that was obvious enough,” I said with a deliberate shrug. “We’ve got better things to do.”

  “I bet you do.” Daisy gave a suggestive wiggle of her eyebrows.

  Vasily grabbed my hand and began tugging me away from the remaining guests. “Speaking of. We have someplace else to be.”

  There was a whoop from the crowd. The noise was so loud that my ears crackled. I was giddy and excited, and I could not wait to start the next portion of my life. I held tight to my new husband’s hand as we made a mad dash out the front doors of the church. The cool breeze hit my cheeks and made my eyes water. I felt so alive! There was a scent of snow in the air, and I imagined what it would be like to take a walk with Vasily in the snow. We would kiss as it swirled around us like in some kind of fairy tale.

  Yeah. I was totally dreaming now. If there ever were such a moment, it would probably involve a car chase and a few explosions, because that was our life.

  There was a big long car waiting at the curb. The driver had already opened the back door. Vasily and I piled inside. He seemed almost carefree. It was so unlike the cocky assassin with the kick-ass-and-take-names attitude. I loved this softer side of him. It didn’t come out often, but maybe this was the perfect time for it to happen.

  As soon as the door closed, I climbed into his lap. I had to gather the skirt of my wedding dress, but I didn’t care if it wrinkled. I didn’t care if I tore the damn thing off. I was done getting married. I wanted to hurry up and be married.

  Vasily cupped my face in his palms. “Did you wear panties?”

  “Hell no.”

  He was smiling, but that no longer mattered. I devoured his lips in a kiss. I could not get enough. I had to be closer. I had to have him inside me. Still kissing him, I groped at his waist for his belt. My fingers fumbled with the task, and I finally made a frustrated noise.

  His dark laugh excited me even as he opened his slacks and pulled his cock free of his fly. “Is this what you want, my love?”

  “Please,” I begged. “Oh please?”

  My thighs were trembling, and I could feel the ache between my legs beginning to grow out of control. I needed his thick cock spreading me wide. I needed to feel him penetrate my body. I wanted to be his in this most basic way.

  “Grab the bars up top.”

  I did not argue. I obeyed. Vasily was not the kind of man to be denied. I reached overhead and took hold of the handles bolted to the roof of the limo. Perhaps they had been installed for rough rides. Maybe they’d been put there for exactly this reason. I was past even caring.

  Vasily

  I think I had thought that I would wait to fuck my wife. I would take her to the hotel and let her enjoy the champagne and the fireplace. Perhaps we would take a bath in the huge Jacuzzi tub and go slowly.

  I was mad to believe that was possible. I could not wait another second for this woman. Even once I’d had her, I would want her again and again. I could not get enough. Her body was mine, and I wanted to enjoy it as many times as I possibly could in one lifetime.

  To see her stretched out on top of me was erotic beyond belief. The low neck of her bodice left an enticing view of her creamy breasts for my pleasure. Her skirts were thrown up, and the sexy white stockings barely hit her midthigh. The bare expanse of flesh was too tempting.

  I put my palms on her legs and gave a squeeze. I loved the resiliency of her flesh. She was warm and vital against me. My cock was throbbing. I grabbed my shaft and squeezed just to keep from losing my damn mind. I was going to come as soon as I breeched her softness. I knew this already. I didn’t care. But making her come was my priority. And as I spread her soft cleft open, it was the only thing I could think about.

  The pink flesh of her pussy was so wet with her creamy juices that my fingers made an erotic sound when they touched her. She moaned, jerking a little as she tried to remain still. I spread her outer lips and gently stroked the softer inner lips. Her clit was swollen, the hood spreading wide for me as I probed her with my fingers. She was so ready to come. I could feel her climax in the tightness of her muscles and hear it in her ragged breathing.

  “Do you want to come?” It gave me such a fucking rush to have control over her orgasms. This was what I wanted. It was what I had needed my whole life.

  “Yes. Please may I?”

  “Come for me, Anya. Give me your pleasure.”

  The words had barely left my lips before she started convulsing. She came so pretty for me. I watched in awe as her belly trembled. My fingers pressed into her clit, and I could feel every single muscle contraction in her body. The intensity made me want to roar with satisfaction. This was my woman. My wife. She was coming for me, and I could no longer wait to be inside her.

  I grasped my cock and held myself as steady as I could with hands that shook. I wanted this so badly I was almost insane with the waiting. I gazed up at her. There had never been a more perfect sight. Her white teeth were clamped down on her full lower lip. Her eyes were closed, and the expression on her face showed the purest pleasure. I wanted to share that with her, and I wanted it bad.

  “Lower yourself. I need to be inside you, Anya.” The sound of my voice was shocking. It was so low and so gravelly. The tone of it was almost harsh in my ears.

  Her eyes opened then. She looked down at me, and I felt her pussy brush my cock. She went so slowly I thought I would lose my damn mind. The heat and the friction were unbearable. It was killing me, and I loved it. I wanted to die this way a thousand times and come back again. Each inch of her tight pussy clamped down on my cock until I felt the head brush the sweet spot so deep inside her body. It was fucking heaven.

  I held her hips in my hands and tightened my fingers as much as I dared. I forced her to follow my lead, to let me set the pace. She moved her hands from the ceiling to my shoulders. I loved the way she touched me. There was something possessive in it. The primal urge to mark this woman, to give her my seed—it overcame me.

  Sweat beaded on my forehead. My hands were damp against her skin. We panted and moaned and fucked, and it was raw and perfect. Then I felt it. The burn of my climax at the base of my spine was like liquid fire in my veins. I struggled to hold myself back, but I couldn’t do it. The need to come was primal, almost brutal.

  “Come with me,” I snarled at her. “Come with me and make it good.”

  She whimpered and moaned, and then I felt that perfect moment where her inner muscles clenched tight around my shaft. It was hot and tight and oh so wet. There was nothing quite so perfect in the world as that sensation. And it was mine. Forever.

  She came hard and I could not hold back one second longer. Every muscle in my back was strung tight. I pulled her as close to my cock as possible and felt her tremble and shake. I thrust upward, impaling her as deeply as I could. The spray of my cum was hot and immediate. I took her the way a beast would take its mate. It didn’t matter because she was mine.

  When the maelstrom was over, she collapsed against my chest. I’d never been tender with a lover before. This wasn’t just a lover. She was everything. I wrapped my arms around her and felt the weight of her against my chest.

  “I love you,” she murmured. “But you’d better give me what I want when we get to that hotel.”

  “Which is?” I teased.

  “I want silk rope and a spanking.” She nuzzled my neck and giggled like a wild woman.

  Had any order ever been so perfect? “I think I can come up with something.”

  She wriggled a little, moving her bottom and squeezing my cock
with her inner muscles until I felt another surge of desire. “I think you can come up with a lot of things.”

  She was so perfect for me. I could only hope that I was just as perfect for her. “Are you sure this is what you want?” The words slipped out, but once they were out I was glad.

  Anya touched my face and kissed my nose. “It’s what I want. I always thought I had to keep the two parts of my life separate. But that isn’t true. You’re everything I want and more than I need. I can still have my job, but I want you and that means accepting my past as well as my future.”

  “Such a brilliant woman,” I murmured.

  The past was the past and the future was before us, but if we couldn’t reconcile one with the other we would always be damned. Like Antonin. Like Boris. But Anya and I? We were going to be everything because we were together.

  THE END

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