Stone Cold Knockout

by Lavender Parker

  “Did you fuck him?” he said through clenched teeth, his voice low and dangerous.

  “Will you believe me if I say no?”

  “Do not play games, little girl.” He slammed his fists against the wall.

  “No. I didn't fuck him.”

  “I saw you.”

  “What did you see?” she said, leaning into him. “Did you see me push him away? Did you see me tell him to fuck off?” She ran her fingers over the hard planes of his shoulders, and she felt goosebumps rise up on his skin. “I was worried about you,” she said softly. He stepped into her, flattening her body against the wall with his. His warmth seeped through her clothes, and she inhaled sharply as she felt his erection grow and harden against her thigh.

  “Do not fuck with me,” he snarled into her ear. “You do not know what I am capable of.” He dragged his left hand down her body, and she felt herself arch into his touch. He hooked his hand on the waistband of her leggings and yanked them down low on her hips. She gasped as he plunged his hand between her thighs and pushed two fingers roughly inside of her. Electricity shot up and down her spine and she bucked against him. “You are wet,” he whispered. “Is it because he had his cock in you?”

  “Fuck you!” she hissed, clenching her hand into a fist involuntarily. The need to act out violently at his accusations welled up in her, her anger taking over. The movement didn't escape his notice. He jerked against her, grabbing her fist with his free hand and slamming it against the wall.

  “You want to hit me?” he sneered. “What do you think I want to do to him?” He thrust his fingers harder and deep. Gennifer closed her eyes at the deliciously rough sensation. “I want to destroy him for touching you.”

  “Misha—”

  “I am insane over you. You make me crazy,” he rasped, pressing his lips to her cheek.

  “Nothing happened,” she whispered, suddenly feeling very breathless.

  “Do not fuck with me, solnyshka,” he said, jaw clenched. He loosened his grip on her wrist and she pulled free.

  “Nothing happened,” she repeated, wanting him to believe her more than anything. Her arm snaked around his neck and she clung to him as he finger fucked her, hard and rough. His face was cold and unyielding, but she could feel how hard he was. He was aroused by her, even if he was angry. She slid her hand into his loose pants and closed her fingers around his thick erection, unrestrained by his lack of boxers. He gritted his teeth, as if determined not to succumb to her attempts to make him forget.

  “I'm wet because I want you,” she said, then pressed her lips softly against his. He reacted to her kiss, opening his lips to accept her tongue. His thumb found her clit and she moaned, wanting to know just how good he was making her feel.

  “You are mine,” he said, running his teeth over her bottom lip. His words sent sparks through her brain. He curled his fingers deep inside of her and she shuddered against him.

  “I'm yours,” she murmured, raising her leg and hooking it over his hip. He took advantage and slipped his fingers in and out of her freely. She rolled her palm over the head of his cock and he growled, low in his throat. His pre-come moistened her fingers and she pumped her hand against him, itching to drop to her knees and take him inside her mouth. “Misha,” she whispered. “I need you.” She wanted him to know the truth. The concept of needing someone so much was foreign to her, but felt right. He was the only man she wanted and needed. Period.

  “How will I punish you?” he asked after a moment, looking at her through the slits of his eyes. He extracted his hand from her leggings and pushed away from the wall. Free to move, she took the opportunity to yank his pants down, revealing his beautiful dick, rock-hard and practically flush to his stomach. “Get on your knees,” he said. She felt her pussy clench at his commanding tone. They were definitely on the same page. She wanted to suck him into oblivion. She wanted him to face-fuck her hard, until she was gasping for air. Until he forgave her. She slowly slid down the wall, her eyes not leaving his. She leaned forward onto her knees but before she could suck him deep, he stepped back coldly, out of her reach.

  “Open your mouth.” He stared down at her, his face in shadow. She did as she was told, her heart beating out of her chest. He dropped a hand to her cheek, dipping his thumb into her mouth. “You want to suck my cock?” he asked. She nodded, closing her hand around his wrist and sucking his thumb. He said something in Russian then, the clipped, throaty words only turning her on more. Her nipples tightened in her sports bra as his fingertips lightly caressed her cheek. She searched his eyes for any sign that his cool control was abating. She wanted to suck him until he cried out a torrent of passionate foreign words that she didn't understand. She wanted to drive him crazy and suck him dry. She wanted her fiery lover back.

  She craved him.

  “Too bad,” he said simply, pulling away. She furrowed her brow, not quite understanding. He nodded his head toward the living room. “Crawl.” Gennifer stared at him for a moment, wondering what he was planning for her. He tapped her shoulder with his knee, his familiar impatience returning. “On your hands and knees.”

  Gennifer lifted the strap of her bag over her head and pulled it off, leaving it on the floor. She lowered herself to her hands and knees and began to crawl into the living room. She moved slowly, seductively, working her hips from side to side as she went. He was dominating her and she let him, no question. She glanced back over her shoulder and he was watching her, stroking himself. She stopped, pushing herself up to pull off her T-shirt. Tossing it over her head, she caught his eye again. His hand stilled, and he worked his jaw in the semi-dark.

  She dropped to all-fours again. She crawled further into the room, her knees padded by the wool rug. She loved the feel of his eyes on her. Goosebumps broke out over his skin, and her nipples throbbed painfully. She shot a look over her shoulder again, and her breath caught in her throat when she realized he was suddenly right behind her, shoving his pants to the ground. Dropping to his knees in a flash, he ripped her leggings and panties down her thighs. In a quick movement, he plunged inside of her, deep and hard.

  Gennifer cried out at the intrusion, tossing her head back. He gripped her hips against him as he ground into her, his fingers digging into her soft skin. His knees forced hers apart, as far as he could, and thrust again. She bit her lip, but couldn't stop herself from calling out again. He was so big inside of her, filling her up, completely and totally. Her nails dug into the thick wool pile of the rug, panting, barely able to catch a breath as he fucked her. He was relentless, his strokes steadfast.

  For a long while, the only sound in the room was the slap of their bodies and her gasps and moans. He fucked her quietly, coldly, his punishing pace the only sign of any passion. Wanting to touch him, she balanced herself on one arm and reached her hand back to rest over his on her hip. He growled low in his throat and pulled out of her abruptly. Gennifer gasped as he hauled her over onto her back. She pushed herself up on her elbows as he stared down at her, his chest heaving.

  “Do not touch me unless I say you can,” he said coldly. Not waiting for an answer, he lifted her leg, and pulled off her shoe. She watched him as he continued to undress her, sliding her leggings and panties down her legs and tossing them across the room. Then his ran his hands up her inner thighs until he reached her pussy, wet and more than ready for him. She licked her dry lips with her tongue, waiting. Waiting for the assault.

  But his hands continued moving, up her stomach and past her ribcage. He hooked his fingertips under the sports bra, and she raised her arms above her head so he could remove it. He leaned over her, his scent caressing her, his gold cross pendant brushing over her sternum. When she was finally free of the last bit of her clothing, he pushed her legs open wide and guided himself back to her pussy. He hooked his arms under her knees and held her against him while he drove his entire length into her. Gennifer felt herself began to spiral, the tension tightening her muscles. Right then, the way he was making her feel w
as all that mattered in the world. She wanted it to go on forever. She clenched herself around him, not wanting it to end, but needing it to. She needed release, and she knew he needed it, too.

  She rolled her hips, meeting his thrusts with equal force, gritting her teeth against the onslaught. He threw his head back, the veins in his neck straining under his skin. The muscles in his arms and chest were hard and bunched—he was almost ready. She wanted all of his anger and all of his passion. She wanted all of his cool control to crumble. She massaged him and teased him, tightening her inner muscles around his cock until he dropped to his elbows and held her flush against him. He crushed his mouth against hers and she responded, thrusting her tongue against his as she made love to him.

  She slid her hands around him, disobeying his orders. She pressed her palms against his ass and ground against him, the sweet friction sending off a chain reaction—her toes clenched, her eyes rolled back into her head, and she opened her mouth in a soundless scream. Her orgasm shattered inside of her and the tension gave way as waves of pleasure rolled over her. She thrashed her head to the side and bucked against him, her pussy throbbing around his cock. He moaned, the delicious sound emanating from deep within his chest.

  Finally, Mikhail's body stiffened and she felt his cock jerk inside her. He called out against her mouth, continuing to buck into her as she milked him. Then he collapsed on top of her, his heart feeling like it was going to beat right out of his chest. She stroked his back as he came down, his skin moist with sweat. In a flash, he shoved himself upright and straddled her, his thighs against her ribcage.

  “I said do not touch me,” he said, pinning her hands above her head. “You disobey me.”

  “I'm sorry,” she whispered, and he hissed out a sharp breath.

  “No, you are not.” He pushed himself upright and stared down at her, his eyes dancing dangerously.

  “You're right. I'm not,” she said, lifting her chin defiantly.

  “You should be, solnyshka,” he murmured, dropping his hand to stroke his cock. She watched as his erection grew again and she ached to touch him. She clenched her hands, wanting to reach for him. But she didn't. She simply watched him, her muscles clenched tight, as he jerked himself off. A low moan escaped her lips as she was forced to watch the sexy scene in front of her and not partake. At the frustrated sound, his thighs clenched around her ribs. “Do you want to touch me?” he asked cruelly, his voice low.

  She nodded slowly, her eyes never leaving his cock. Involuntarily, she licked her lips, fantasizing about taking him into her mouth and showing him what he was missing. As if he could read her mind, he dropped his head back and groaned. Gennifer jumped when he came suddenly, his hot come shooting onto her tits and neck. She swallowed hard as he stroked himself two more times, spurting and dripping onto her prone body even more. She lay beneath him and arched her back, taking everything he had to give. Because she wanted to.

  Because she needed it.

  When he rolled off of her onto his back, she whimpered involuntarily, not wanting to let him go. He tossed an arm over his face, still breathing heavy. They both lay there quietly for a moment, in a sort of daze. She ran her hand through the mess on her chest and realized her thighs were slick with his passion as well. A shiver ran up her spine when she realized he hadn't used a condom. Rubbing her thighs together, she realized she liked it. In fact, she liked it a lot. Taking a moment to thank God for birth control pills, she rolled her head to look at her Russian, who was doing his best to ignore her.

  “Misha,” she whispered, wanting reassurance that everything was okay between them.

  “You go now,” Mikhail said. Swiftly, he pushed himself to standing and walked to the kitchen. She heard the faucet turn on and she sat up. Hell no. Hell no he didn't just fuck the bejesus out of her, and think that she was going to let him wash his hands of her? Shaking her head, annoyed, she stood and went into the bathroom. After cleaning herself up, she strolled through the living room, shoulders back and head held high. He stood in the doorway to the kitchen, watching her.

  When she reached his big bed, Gennifer pulled out her ponytail and ran her hand through her hair. She caught his eye as she put a knee on the bed. He shook his head, practically daring her not to get in the bed. But he should know by now—she loved a good challenge.

  “Do not play with me,” he said, his voice low. She smiled and crawled onto the mattress, plopping down in the center and crossing her legs at the ankles.

  “Come to bed,” she said. His face darkened and she knew his cold facade was close to finally crashing down. Her smile broadened, taunting him. Her eyes ran down the length of him, noticing that his cock was hardening already. He moved toward her, slowly, reminding her again of a wolf with an eye on the hunt. She felt the familiar dangerous thrill go through her. Mikhail was the sexiest man she'd ever been with, hands down. He radiated raw, masculine power. And he was all hers, whether he still wanted her or not.

  He leaned over and yanked her across the duvet by her ankles. She squealed, her ass almost going off the edge of the mattress. She grabbed his shoulders and brought her knees up to clench around his chest, catching herself before she dropped to the floor.

  “Go home, Gennifer,” he growled, his face close to hers.

  “No,” she replied.

  “I am angry with you.” His eyes scanned her face, the wildness coming to the surface.

  “It's not good to go to bed angry.” She pressed a kiss to his chest, right below his heart. He didn't stop her, so she continued trailing kisses up his chest to his throat. He let out a moan that vibrated through his skin against her lips.

  “I saw him touching you.” He took her face between his two big hands, forcing her head back to look him in the eye. “You let him touch you.” She shook her head, dismissing the kiss with Hector for once and for all.

  “I want you. I choose you.” She ran her hands up his ribs, loving the warmth of his skin. “You are mine,” she said, a jolt running through her at the powerful words that echoed his own. “I'm not going to give you up.”

  “Maybe it is not for you to choose,” he said. “If you do not go, I will go,” he said, dropping his hands and taking a step back.

  “Mikhail!” she cried out in frustration as he turned and left the bedroom. He didn't reply, and as much as she might have wanted to, she didn't follow him. Instead, she pushed herself back to the pillows and pulled the duvet over herself. She laid back, staring up at the ceiling as she waited for him to come to his senses. The whole thing was so stupid and ridiculous. But she wasn't going to beg him to forgive her any more. She'd already done everything she could. She refused to grovel.

  When she heard the door open and shut, she jolted out of the warm bed in disbelief. She padded out to the living room, naked, and her heart squeezed painfully at the realization that she was alone in his big empty apartment.

  He was gone.

  Chapter 13

  “No more vodka for you,” Vadim announced, leaning over the bar at Tsar and taking Mikhail's drink. He finished it off in one gulp and then slammed the glass on the oak slab. “You are beginning to look pathetic in front of the staff.”

  “Do I care? No.” Mikhail said, reaching for the bottle behind the counter. His brother slapped at his hand with a laugh.

  “Explain,” Vadim said, placing the vodka on a high shelf, out of reach. “You do not usually drink during the week.”

  “I own this restaurant. I will drink when I fucking please,” Mikhail said, scratching his chin and sitting back down on his stool, not bothering to try for the bottle again.

  “We own this restaurant,” Vadim said, rolling up the sleeves on his crisp white shirt. Mikhail stared down at his empty glass, knowing that he was acting like an idiot. But he couldn't turn his anger off. It had taken every fiber of his being to turn and leave House of Pain after he saw Gennifer kissing Hector. It had taken every ounce of self-control he had to not go after Hector with murderous intent. He wanted
to beat the motherfucker black, blue, and bloody for laying his hands where they didn't belong.

  However, he was not that kind of man anymore.

  That didn't mean he was going to let them make a fool of him, though. He flexed his hand on the bar, fresh anger shooting through him again.

  “Is this about your mystery woman?” Vadim asked, running his hand through his short dark hair.

  “Her name is Gennifer,” Mikhail said.

  “Gennifer. I love that name. So American,” Vadim said, smiling wide. “Is she all-American girl? Blonde hair, big tits?” Mikhail didn't bother responding. His playboy of a younger brother understood very little about the fairer sex. He understood American women even less. Mikhail barely understood them himself, but he loved the challenge, especially when it came to Gennifer. At the thought of her, he closed his eyes, a stab of pain hitting him in the center of his chest. “Did she leave you? American girls do not understand loyalty like good Russian girls.” Vadim shrugged nonchalantly, but his blue eyes flashed in the low light of the bar.

  “Shut up, dear brother, before I put my fist through your face,” Mikhail growled. Vadim chuckled, then turned and grabbed the vodka off the shelf again. Quickly, he poured two glasses and slid one to Mikhail.

  “Alright. One more,” Vadim said. “Now tell me about your Gennifer.”

  Two hours and one cab ride later, Mikhail opened the door to his apartment. Gennifer's scent hit him like a brick wall as soon as he stepped over the threshold. He pressed his forehead to the wall, wondering what he was going to do about her. Even as he obsessed over whether or not she was lying to him, he couldn't stop himself from heading straight to the bedroom to see her. Her clothes were still tossed willy-nilly across the living room, and he stepped over her T-shirt on his way. He stopped in the doorway, his heart catching at the sight of her. She was asleep on her side in his bed, her dark hair like a halo around her head.