by Daiko, SC
I groaned low in my throat and slid my hands into her hair. “You are a minx. Slow down. I want to savor you.”
She writhed and ground herself against me, slowly; her wet, greedy sheath coating my cock with her cream. Her eyes closed, and her lovely face glowing with pleasure, she teased me, sliding herself up and down on my shaft until I couldn’t take it anymore.
With one hand around her, I rolled us both over and plunged into her. She held me, rocking herself onto me, eager to reach her climax.
“Ah, ah, ah” I growled in her ear. “Not yet.”
Our hips rose and fell at the pace I set, shallow then deep, fast and then excruciatingly slow. Her pussy gripped me so tightly, I let out a string of expletives in Russian.
Bodies quivering in unison, we were approaching our peak. “Break for me, rybka,” I rasped.
And she did, biting down on my shoulder to contain her mewls.
The action unleashed my release, and I exploded inside her with a groan.
We fell back on the bed together, lying side by side while our breathing returned to normal.
Oh, how I wanted to put my arms around her and tell her that she’d broken down my defenses and was rapidly finding a place in my heart.
But that would be a mistake.
Sudden remorse washed over me, as a vision of Nina flashed into my mind. Her lip had curled, and she’d spat at me when she’d called me evil. My stomach had knotted at the sight of her brokenness, how much she’d come to hate me. Spots of Lev’s blood had splattered her pale face; she’d wiped them away with shaking hands before she’d started screaming fit to wake the dead.
My nightmare came back to me, a sensation like those fucking snakes were squeezing the light out of my essence. I imagined those damn vipers slithering all over Zoe, sinking their fangs into her and poisoning the goodness in her beautiful soul. I couldn’t do that to her. Far better to keep things casual between us. She’d be going home to England next year, in any case.
Raising herself up on one elbow, she shot me a disgusted look. “So that’s it?” She snapped acidly. “Wham, bam, thank you mam?”
“I never promised you hearts and roses,” I muttered.
The slap to my face seemed to come from nowhere. Jesus, it stung. I grabbed hold of her, and we wrestled while she attempted to rain further blows on me. My balls instantly became heavy with lust.
This woman.
This incredible woman.
I couldn’t fucking get enough of her.
I pinned her wrists above her head in a firm grasp. “Fuck, rybka, what the hell are you doing to me?”
“I thought that was obvious,” she hissed through closed lips, her eyes spitting tacks. “You bastard!”
I laughed, mockingly. “You’re trying to beat submission into me? Is that it? For your information, I don’t submit to anyone.”
I let go of her wrists, and she rubbed them. My heart panged at the notion I might have caused her pain, and I wanted to kiss the hurt away.
But I didn’t.
I levered myself off the bed instead.
There was something I could do that wouldn’t be construed as giving in. If I knew Zoe like I was starting to know her, I bet our tussle had made her soaking wet.
I could give her release.
“I’m going to take a shower now. Care to join me?”
She shot me one of her self-righteous Mary Poppins looks. “I’ll shower in my own bathroom, if that’s alright with you.”
“No. It. Is. Not. Alright.” I snarled. “You want me to beg, is that it? Taras Melekhov doesn’t ask twice.”
I bent and lifted her, throwing her over my shoulder, and then I carried her kicking and squealing into my ensuite.
Chapter Fifteen
Zoe
Emma tilted her phone toward me as we sat in the kitchen, finishing our lunch. “I like that one,” she pointed out a midnight blue cocktail frock.
It was short and would hug my figure, but the three-quarter-length sleeves would give it an air of classy sophistication. “How much?”
She tapped on the price button and I gasped. “Three thousand dollars! Much too expensive.”
“It’s a Versace. Papa can afford it.” She flashed me a quick grin. “He’s a billionaire.”
She’d said the words with such pride, my chest tightened. “Have you picked an outfit for yourself yet?” I asked.
Scrolling down her cellphone, she showed me a sleeveless above-the-knee white dress with shoe-lace straps and a gathered circular skirt.
“It’s lovely,” I gave her a warm smile.
Emma shoved the phone toward Mrs. Konin, who was seated at the table opposite us. “Please can you enter Papa’s pin number?”
“Of course, lapochka, it will be my pleasure.”
At least Taras didn’t give his daughter FULL rein with respect to internet purchases.
I groaned to myself, my clit throbbing, remembering what had happened between him and me in the shower this morning.
Don’t think about that now, Zoe. Not in front of Emma and Mrs. K.
“I can’t wait to show Papa what we bought,” Emma announced excitedly after Mrs. Konin had tapped in the requisite number. “I wish it was my birthday tomorrow.”
“It won’t be long until next Monday,” I squeezed Emma’s hand.
My stomach fluttered. I’d have to get through Sunday and the subterfuge with Justin Ward in Central Park first.
Four days to go.
At least I wouldn’t need to cope with Taras until the weekend. He’d received a phone call earlier and had needed to depart on an unexpected business trip to Venezuela. Arms deals, I imagined, not wanting to ask.
The less I knew about the nefarious side to Taras, the better as far as I was concerned. I wanted to help him, even wanted to love him, but the bloody man wouldn’t let me.
Okay, he hadn’t promised me hearts and roses, but he had promised not to hurt me, and he’d broken that promise within hours.
I was a fool to keep going back for more.
He was like forbidden wine, an addiction.
Telling myself not to be so overdramatic, I got up to assist Mrs. Konin with loading the dishwasher.
“Time to get on with your homework, Emma,” I said, after stacking the last plate. “Then maybe we can go for a swim.”
* * *
Later, I was up in my room chilling before bedtime. It felt weird not to be spending the evening with Taras like I’d done the past several nights.
Was it possible to fall in love with someone in such a sort time?
Or was I deluding myself?
Whatever.
It made no difference.
Clearly, he had no feelings toward me, other than of a sexual nature.
My cellphone chimed, and my stupid heart gave a wild leap. Was he calling me? I stared at the screen, my breath hitching.
Olivia.
“Hey, sis, how are things?” I asked.
“Not good. Mum and Dad won’t stop badgering me to persuade you to quit your job.”
“I can’t,” I said firmly. “I’ve signed a six-month contract. In any case, Emma needs me.” I kept my voice steady even though my hand was shaking with suppressed emotion. I so wanted to tell my sister everything, but she’d worry and might even board the next plane from London to New York.
I asked her about her life and took comfort from her description of a normal existence where the FBI wasn’t parked outside the house where she lived, where she could go for a walk in the park and not be accosted by a creeper pretending to be a federal agent.
She chatted about pub crawls after work with her colleagues and laughed ironically when I asked if she’d finally found herself a boyfriend.
“Still pining after Ben?” I quipped, referring to her bestie’s stepbrother. Livvy had been crushing on him for years, but he treated her the same as he treated Becca, his stepsister. Just good friends.
“You don’t want to know,” a groan came
down the phone line. “How about you? Met anyone in Fairwood?”
I longed to tell her about Taras, and I might have done if we’d been face-to-face. “Nah, I’m holed up in the house all day with Emma and Mrs. Konin.”
“Sounds boring.”
“Yeah.”
She had no clue.
“Mum told me your boss took over from Gleb Sokolov. Small world, eh?”
I agreed that it was and mentioned Emma’s forthcoming birthday treat to Swan Lake.
Livvy enthused about the ballet and I let her chat on. Again, I wanted to say more than I should, that Taras had offered me a new dress for the occasion, except my super-bright sister would have deduced, quite rightly, that there was more to our relationship than met the eye.
We said goodnight with promises to speak again in a few days, and then signed off. I contemplated giving my parents a call but decided against it. I wasn’t in the mood for their haranguing me to come home.
I searched my phone for some music, and found Elgar’s Cello Concerto in E minor, played by Jacqueline Du Pré. I listened to it, and while the haunting melody swelled around me, I relived in my head what had happened after Taras had tossed me over his shoulder and carried me to the shower this morning.
“Put me down,” I squealed, battering my fists against his rock-hard back. At the same time, I was so turned on I could feel the wetness pooling between my thighs.
“Stand still.” He positioned me directly under the shower head, one of those rain shower ones. He turned and flicked a switch and the water streamed down my spine.
I stared at him, at his broad back ripped with muscles that ran all the way to his firm ass. Billowing smoke-like steam misted around him, making him appear like Hades, the mythical god of darkness, surrounded by the fiery furnaces of Hell.
Belying his devilish stance, he poured liquid soap into his palm and rubbed it on my tits, my stomach, all over my body.
Gently, as if I might break.
I released a sigh of pure pleasure and squirted some body wash onto my own hand, smoothing it along his abs, his flat stomach, and lower still. His cock twitched under my fingers, rigid as steel. I slowly worked it up and down. With a smile, I cupped his balls and massaged them carefully while my other hand kept tugging at his dick.
“That’s enough, Zoe.” He whirled me around and my palms slapped against the tiles.
He grabbed my hips and tilted them upwards.
Warm water beat down on my head and shoulders.
He kicked my legs apart.
“Bend forward and push your butt toward me, rybka,” he growled, his voice thick with lust.
I gasped, and my toes curled as he started to take me from behind. The blunt head of his dick parted my lips and slid into my pussy. Tremors of ecstasy shot through me.
“You’re so fucking tight, so fucking beautiful,” he groaned, holding me in place.
I closed my eyes and rocked myself up and down on his shaft.
He pounded into me so freaking hard and so damn deep my feet came off the floor.
“Ahhh,” I moaned, suspended on his shaft.
He carried on fucking me, punishing my wet and hungry pussy until a shuddering, pulsating climax overtook us both. He bit into the skin of my shoulder, and I relished the pain.
We remained coupled together and breathing heavily, the soft rain sluicing down our heaving bodies. I angled my head and caught his lips with mine. His tongue danced and tangled with my tongue as we lapped each other up.
With a grunt, he withdrew and switched off the shower.
Tenderly, he wrapped me in a fluffy white towel and patted me dry. I stared at his handsome face, wishing it could always be like this.
This tenderness.
I waited for him to switch from light to darkness, from angel to devil, almost afraid to breathe as I braced myself for the rebuff I already knew was coming.
True to form, it arrived within seconds. “I want to keep this casual between us,” he said, watching me intently.
I pretended not to care. What else could I do? I wasn’t the crying kind; in any case, I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of realizing he’d hurt me again.
“Sure, why not,” I said brightly as I pulled the bathroom door open. Not waiting for his response, I grabbed my clothes, put them on and left to go and wake Emma.
“It will all be okay,” I promised myself as I went up the stairs. “Just breathe.”
In out. In out.
A sudden shard of pain pierced my chest. No matter how horrible Taras was to me, I was addicted to him; I knew full well he’d end up breaking my heart, but I was in it for the duration.
Stupid me.
The tension in the haunting cello concerto built to the final three chords, and then there was silence. With a heavy sigh, I put down my phone and padded across the floor to my bathroom. My face stared back at me in the mirror, filled with longing. Taras had only been gone a few hours. I missed his touch. I missed his fierce demeanor. I missed him.
Undressing, I noticed the bruise from when he’d bitten my shoulder in the shower. Whether he realized it or not, he’d marked me as his. I would never meet another man like him; I was well and truly doomed.
Chapter Sixteen
Zoe
Taras’ mansion echoed with his absence. It was as if Mrs. Konin, Emma and I were holding our breaths while we waited for his return. He was such a powerful presence in all our lives; I, for one, felt as if I’d been deprived of oxygen without him.
The closer we’d gotten to Sunday, the more nervous I became. I would have liked to have spent some time with him to reassure myself I’d made the right decision regarding Justin Ward. Taras was supposed to have returned from Caracas yesterday afternoon, but a hurricane in the region had delayed flights and his plane hadn’t landed until well past midnight. I’d waited up, hoping he’d come to me.
A vain hope.
Taras had never once set foot in my bedroom since I’d started working for him.
I was stupid to think he’d break his own protocol now.
Especially with his daughter sleeping in the room next to mine.
I didn’t want to appear needy by hanging around downstairs. My thoughts became increasingly jumbled, though, as the hours ticked by, until eventually I fell into a restless sleep.
On Sundays, Mrs. Konin usually woke Emma as it was my day off. I lay in bed this morning, half-awake, half-asleep. A week ago, I’d agreed with Justin Ward that we’d meet at the same time, same place, which meant I had until early in the afternoon. I curled my body into the fetal position, hugging my arms around myself.
A knock sounded at the door, and my eyes blinked open. “Zoe,” Mrs. Konin’s voice came through the keyhole. “The Boss wants you to have breakfast with him.”
My heart did a funny little flip. “Please tell him I’ll be there asap.”
Pulse fluttering, I took a quick shower, dressed in shorts and a cotton tee, then went downstairs.
He was sitting at the dining room table, smoking one of his Russian cigarettes, a cup of black coffee on the table in front of him. He took my breath he was so damn handsome. His green eyes smoldered and he pushed dark hair back from his brow.
“Zoe,” he got to his feet and pulled out a chair. “Everything alright?”
“Fine,” I sat and wiped my clammy hands down my shorts.
He returned to his seat. “You don’t look fine. There are dark circles under your eyes.”
I touched my fingers to the top of my cheeks, surprised he’d noticed. “I haven’t been sleeping well.”
“Oh? Why?” He trapped me in his gaze.
“Just a little concerned about what’ll happen later today, that’s all.” I bit at my lip.
And pining for you, Taras.
I kept the latter thought to myself.
Mrs. Konin arrived with my usual cup of milky tea and a bowl of oatmeal topped with fresh strawberries. She placed them before me and quietly left the room. If she
thought it strange that I was having breakfast with the Boss on my day off, she showed no sign.
Taras rubbed the back of his neck. “Listen, rybka. You don’t have to do this. Didn’t I say you weren’t under any pressure?”
I twisted my hands together. “I want to.” I shot him a quick glance. “I feel better about it now you are here.” And I did. He made me feel safe, protected.
“Good girl,” he smiled around his cigarette and exhaled a plume of blue smoke. “I’ve organized everything with my men.” A brief pause while he took a sip of coffee. “You’ll need to act like it’s a normal Sunday. Take the train into the city, then the subway to the park. Think you can do that?”
“Sure,” I said with false bravado.
He leaned toward me. “I’ll be with you every step of the way.”
“You’re coming too?” My pulse skyrocketed.
“As good as.” He reached into his dress pants pocket and pulled out a phone. “There’s a Spy App installed. Keep it on you. And, before you approach the bench, you’ll need to set it to record.”
“Oh,” my shoulders dropped, “I thought you’d be watching over me in person.”
“I can’t be seen, neither can my men, or we’ll blow your cover. But we’ll be there within striking distance, although I’m one hundred percent sure the need of that will not arise. Not in a public place.”
His reassuring words gave me more confidence, but not enough to eat any breakfast. There were too many butterflies in my stomach.
I asked him if his business trip had been successful. Gruffly he said that it had. He didn’t elaborate, of course he didn’t. What did I expect? That he’d share such information with me, his nanny?
Never going to happen.
Emma chose that moment to burst into the room, “Papa,” she squealed, “Zoe and I have new dresses for tomorrow night.” A smile danced over her pretty face. “I’m so excited.”
Our outfits had arrived yesterday. We’d tried them on, and they were perfect. I almost hadn’t recognized myself in my glamorous frock. Emma and I had then practiced putting on our makeup; we’d had so much fun I’d almost forgotten my anxiety about today.
