“My father will expect you to get in and out as quickly and quietly as possible. It’s my job to teach you how to do that flawlessly. It’s your job to take that training seriously. Your effectiveness will reflect on me, so do not fucking let me down, which would make me look incompetent in front of the Pakhan. That would be unacceptable.”
I could tell her that she has no reason to be worried, but I know actions speak louder than words around here. It’s not the threats of a mad woman that inspire me to want to do my best, although I do take those threats seriously; it isn’t even the terror her father instills in me. The thing that compels me to train hard and give my all to become a Bratva assassin is really pretty simple—I like killing.
I can’t wait to get started.
Chapter Seven
Oleg
My Roksana is as lethal as her father and has the intuitive cunning that so often goes with being of the female persuasion—a deadly combination. My cock stirs at the memory of all the times I’ve had her spectacular combination of fire and defiance strapped down and writhing beneath me.
In all the years I’ve watched over her, I’ve never permitted another man to touch her. I almost beat a local high school jock to death just for trying to kiss her goodnight. She has taunted me relentlessly from day one. She’s a natural born cock tease and has always known how to push my buttons to turn me on. She seemed to relish idea of making me want her because she knew I couldn’t have her back in those early days.
Back then I would go to bed night after night stroking my cock as I imagined being buried deep inside her. The only thing that kept the girl safe was my loyalty to her father. I was shocked, and more than a little pleased, when he mandated that she marry me. From that day on, it wasn’t Roksana who held the control but me. Glazov knows that the control I now hold over her goes far beyond physical domination, it also secures her safety and wellbeing. That’s the most important thing to the Pakhan—his family’s safety.
I had no idea the Pakhan was aware of the torment she subjected me to. The man is a master at hiding what he knows. Just like he knew what she was doing to me, he also knew what giving me her hand in marriage would do—secure his bloodthirsty daughter to the only man who could hold his own with her.
Our futures were joined by the Pakhan in the foyer of this very house after I was arrested for nearly killing yet another jock who had tried to touch her in a nightclub. Of course, she had instigated all the drama to get my attention.
She got much, much more than she bargained for when we got home.
After Nikita bailed me out of jail, Glazov was waiting for us at the front door, livid that Roksana’s mind games had brought undue attention to our cell. After having watched her torment me for years, he decided enough was enough and promised her to me on the spot. Glazov is still old school about certain things, so ending the disastrous evening by arranging his only daughter’s marriage seemed perfectly normal to him. I was more than agreeable, myself.
I took what was mine that very night.
After years of playing at being the sexual aggressor, Roksana was caught off guard when the Pakhan gave his tacit permission for me to claim her. I knew it was what we both wanted; we had a long history of circling each other, the sexual tension palpable in the air around us. But she hadn’t expected Glazov to be the one to call her bluff.
I remember the night well. Glazov had just taken the stairs after issuing his edict – probably eager to resume his own nocturnal activities that had been disrupted by our drama – leaving Roksana and me alone in the downstairs hallway…
“You can’t make me do anything,” she fumed, clearly flustered by her change of fortune.
“By the time I finish training you in my brand of pleasure and pain, you’ll be begging me to tell you what to do. You’ll crave the sting of my hand on your ass, the feel of our bodies sliding against each other, skin on skin. We both know the way you’ve always wanted to be taken, Roksana; now you finally have a man who knows how to fucking do it.”
“Fuck. You.” Her voice was hoarse, her breathing labored.
“Oh, I’m going to do so much more than fuck you. For the rest of your God-given days I’m going to make every inch of you mine. I won’t rest until I’ve claimed you in every way a man can claim his woman,” I said silkily, walking steadily toward her. “And then? I’ll start all over again.”
“I’d like to see you try.”
“Would you now?…”
And with that, I lunged, tossing her over my shoulder and taking the stairs two at a time with her hissing and spitting the whole way. I paused at the top of the stairs when I saw Glazov standing in the open doorway of his suite of rooms at the end of the hall, observing our progress with amused interest. He gave me a brief nod before returning to his room, closing the door quietly behind him.
Once inside her suite of rooms, I kicked the door shut and headed straight for her bed. She landed on the bed with a bounce as pillows scattered across the mattress and onto the floor. Taking advantage of her momentary confusion, I rifled through a few of her dresser drawers and looked around the room, taking stock of the materials that were available to me: sleep mask, scarves, stockings.
I was nothing if not resourceful.
“What…?!” she gasped as I efficiently began removing her clothes. It took every ounce of restraint I had not to lick every inch of her skin like a lion grooming its mate. I wasted no time getting to work tying her wrists to the headboard.
“You fucker!” she shrieked indignantly as she caught on to her new circumstances.
“All in good time, kotik,” I said easily as I pushed her legs apart and secured her ankles with the silk scarves I had found draped over her dresser mirror. I leaned over her, placing a hand next to either side of her head, my chest heaving with anticipation and the primal urge to penetrate my woman hard and fast. “Now, I’d say turnabout is fair play, is it not?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she hissed.
“Sure you do. You’ve flaunted your body in front of me, reminding me of what I couldn’t have, since the moment we met. But you belong to me now. This body…” I murmured as I stared hungrily at the full breasts and pretty pink nipples that I had only been able to imagine until this moment. “This body belongs to me now, and I’ve had years to think about what I’m going to do with it. Years, Roksana…”
She writhed wildly on the bed, trying in vain to fight her silken restraints, but all she accomplished was to reveal to me the slick arousal that had gathered between her legs. Her pussy was smooth, just as I had always pictured it, and her inner lips glistened with her desire for me.
“I have to taste that,” I growled as I undressed quickly and moved over her.
“You…what are…oh…Oleg…” she moaned as my tongue slid through her sweet slit for the first time. I wanted to make this good for her, so I tried to take my time, moving my tongue slowly at first before flicking madly at her clit. She couldn’t see me grinning against her wet heat when every muscle in her body tensed and she began to moan incoherently as she came against my mouth. I lavished her pussy with attention, tasting her over and over again, driving her to another peak of pleasure before I rose up onto my knees, my chest heaving as I struggled for control.
Roksana’s heavy-lidded gaze nearly did me in when she rolled her hips temptingly through several aftershocks. I released her silken ankle restraints and moved in close to her with my knees spread apart, then sat back on my heels. Lifting her thighs over mine, I pulled her toward me until only her head and shoulders rested on the mattress. She lay before me like an offering, open and ready for me. I slid the length of my aching cock along her drenched pussy lips, the friction against her clit working her into a frenzy all over again.
I had always known that we would be explosive together in bed, so this wasn’t a surprise. But, still, I needed to know that she wanted this as much as I did.
Bending over her, I braced my weight on my forear
m and positioned my cock at her entrance, knowing that I was only seconds away from paradise.
“You with me?” I rasped, my voice barely audible as I fought to control the mindless urge to rut, to fuck.
“Do it,” she gasped.
I gritted my teeth against the searing pleasure as I worked my way in, her narrow channel resisting me before she finally relaxed and let me in to the hilt. I surged fully inside her with a roar, reveling in her gasp of pain as I breached her hymen and took her for my own.
“Quit daydreaming!” Roksana’s finger poking into my forehead causes me to grab her wrist and twist it just enough for her to wince in pain. The woman still lives to torment me and I live to make her pay for her antics. It’s the perfect match made in Bratva heaven.
From the day I first saw her, I haven’t been tempted to touch another woman. I knew then that I’d stop at nothing to have the fiery redhead who was the daughter of one of the world’s most powerful men.
“Quit fucking with me, girl. You’re going to get more than you bargained for.”
“Promises, promises; we both know I like it rough.”
“And I like giving it to you rough. But we still have depths of depravity to explore that you aren’t quite ready for yet. So, like I said, don’t fuck with me.”
The look in her eyes is enough to push me over the edge, but her father’s voice over the intercom saves her…for now. When my father-in-law beckons, everything else goes on hold. Fucking my woman senseless will have to wait.
“We both know that keeping the Pakhan waiting isn’t an option,” I say as I stroke her bottom lip with my thumb, wistfully imagining my cock there instead. “I’ll be taking this matter up with you and this mouth later.”
“I’m so looking forward to it,” she purrs, looking back at me over her shoulder as she sashays out the door.
She knows better than to walk in front of me, so I storm into the hall, determined to remind her of her place. I fist a handful of her hair and yank her back to me, licking the shell of her ear as I growl, “Don’t walk in front of me. If there’s a bullet headed in your direction, it’s my job to take it.”
“My own superhero. What more could a girl want?”
Roksana
I’m curious to know what could have come up so quickly. We just met with Father and he’s already calling us back to his office. I brace myself for bad news. Then again, maybe he just wants to see us without Anastasia.
My father’s voice orders us to enter before we have a chance to knock on the door. How the fuck does he do that? I swear sometimes I’m convinced the man has supernatural abilities. Nothing—and I mean nothing gets past the Pakhan. I’m sure it’s one of the reasons his men are scared to even speak against him, much less betray him. They believe that to even speak against the Pakhan is to invite a curse.
Bratva tends to have one quirk in common: we’re all superstitious. For some it may mean wearing a piece of jewelry that’s been passed down for generations. Some hang garlic in the entrance of their home, believing it will ward off demons. I once knew a man who would never pass a church without kneeling and making the sign of the cross.
For others, an amulet serves to ward off evil. My father wears a ring with a large diamond mined from Russia that his father passed down to him. Me…well, I have a large tattoo of the Grim Reaper on my back, complete with a scythe. He’s known in the Latino culture as Santa Muerte—the patron saint of crime, criminals, and the dispossessed. The tattoo was the perfect option for me because the ominous hooded figure is always with me. I can never lose it or have it taken from me.
Some might find it strange that I chose something so sinister for protection. I wonder sometimes why I enjoy hurting people and tearing shit up. When my family recognized my taste for blood during my childhood, my father did what he always does—put me in the position best suited for my unique talents. When it comes to torture, murder, and mayhem, no one does it better than Oleg and me—we’re quite the team.
I cross the room and kiss my father’s up tilted cheek and murmur, “Papa.”
I breathe the word out lightly, savoring the bond I have with the only other man I deeply love. I’ve seen my share of worthless fathers. I’m deeply grateful for the strong family ties we share. I know there are those who think no child should be raised in organized crime. I really don‘t give a fuck what they think. The ties that bind my family together are forged in fire and drenched in blood. The average person could never understand.
I return to the front of the desk where Oleg stands with his hands folded in front of him, awaiting my father’s instructions. Oleg is always the same: cool, calm, and in control. I can’t imagine marrying anyone but him. He’s the only person who gets me.
“I’ve got a job for your trainee. How well she does will determine whether she lives or dies. I’d hate to have invested all this money only to discover that she hasn’t been properly trained.”
The cold look on my father’s face makes it clear that he’s holding me responsible for her success. In certain instances, even I’m not exempt from his brutality.
“You’ll be headed into enemy territory tonight. It’s of utmost importance these people don’t associate you with Bratva.”
“They’ve already found out, haven’t they?” I ask, pissed that news of his plans for the diamond business may have reached the wrong ears.
“I haven’t tried to keep our interest in the diamond business a secret so it isn’t like we’ve been betrayed. I’ve been forthcoming about my intentions because I knew it would draw those who oppose us out of hiding.”
I glance at Novak to see how he’s reacting but he’s unreadable. He’s not only family, he’s my father’s closest friend. He’ll support with dogged diligence any venture my father pursues. The bond they share goes back to childhood and I know Novak would lay down his life to protect it.
“The Venezuelan town of Santa Elena seems to be doing quite well in the business of smuggling illegal diamonds. The town has become a strategic transfer point for illegally mined diamonds. They go so far as to forge documents of authenticity and then ship the whole lot to cities here in the States. I see that as competition and, as my daughter has already voiced in a previous conversation, it’s time to go on the offensive. The East Coast operation is very ‘cloak and dagger’, keeping a low profile. I want you to find out who’s running things.”
“So we’re taking out our competition. Sounds good to me.”
“Yes. For two reasons: the smugglers aren’t beyond stealing shipments and it will send a message to those in the industry that we’re here and we aren’t going anywhere. Make no mistake, even though we’re going into a legitimate business venture it’s still going to be necessary to muscle our way in. The diamond business is as risky as the drug business in that sense, so I will make my move on my own terms.” His eyes are calculating and cold as he says silkily, “You know what the Americans say. You only get one chance to make a first impression.”
Yes…it’s time to bathe in the blood of my enemies.
Chapter Eight
Oleg
I wait until Glazov’s office door shuts behind us and we’ve turned the corner at the end of the hall before I grab Roksana’s upper arms and press her against the wall. Most women would be appalled by the rough tactics I use on her, but all I see in her eyes is the mischievous glint of a woman who wants to be slammed down and fucked hard. I have to say she’s my kind of woman—in fact, the only one for me.
I stop her hand in mid-air as she attempts to slap the shit out of me. “Don’t fuck with me, Roxie.”
“Don’t fucking call me Roxie! You know I hate that!”
Yeah, I know, that’s why I did it. I grab a fistful of her hair and half-drag, half-carry her to her bedroom. She’s laughing at me the whole time, which she knows is just going to piss me off. I kick the door open so hard that it bangs against the wall, leaving a gash in the drywall.
“Ooooh,” she giggles, “somebody’s
gonna be in big trouble...”
“Oh, really?” I ask, my chest heaving as I slam the door closed and lock it. “Then I guess I’ve got nothing to lose.”
The glimmer of fear in her eyes sends my cock into overdrive with the urge to get inside her. I wrap an arm around her waist and drag her to the bed. My words seem to have made quite an impression on her because now she’s struggling in earnest. I toss her, face down, onto the mattress and grab her ankles, yanking her to the edge of the bed. I position her on her knees with her face and shoulders pressed into the mattress and her ass up in the air.
“Keep those fucking hands above your head,” I bite out through clenched teeth.
I need control right now—control over this woman I love, this body I crave. My love is obsession in its purest form, a primordial urge born in the depths of my DNA that demands that I fuck her and claim her and keep her.
I have loved to the point of madness, like everyone else in this crazy family. None of the men seem to have the ability to separate obsession and love. I just know I have to have her—all of her.
I can already see her hands clenching at the duvet as she braces for my next move. “That’s it, baby, fist those covers, you know what’s coming. I think you need to be fucked like I hate you. So shut up, don’t you dare say a fucking word,” I snarl when she opens her mouth to speak. She goes quiet as she turns her face into the mattress, clenching and unclenching her fists over and over as she waits.
Deadly (Born Bratva Book 5) Page 3
