In my line of work emotions will get you killed. She’s the only person in the world I am vulnerable to. She has the ability to keep me sane—she has the power to ruin me.
Every time I’m with this woman it’s different. I’m as intrigued and intoxicated by her as I was the first time I made her mine. I lift her shirt and study her silken skin beneath me. Even when she’s lying on her back, her breasts are perky and firm with plump, pink nipples that are practically begging to be in my mouth. I cup the mounds and stroke my thumbs over the tips before leaning forward and locking my lips over a nipple. I linger there, finally grazing the rosy nub with my teeth, tugging just hard rough enough to cause her to close her eyes on a harsh gasp. Her body arches toward me, offering me more.
If I could drink her down like a shot of Russian vodka, I would. If I could somehow pull her inside my own body so I could keep her all to myself, I would. If I could climb inside her and consume every fiber and cell of her being, I would.
I push away the delicate hand that’s toying with my cock, glaring at her to let her know I’m still pissed about her earlier act of jealousy. I stand by the bed, slide out of my pants and pull her panties down her legs. With both garments in a heap on the floor, I grab her by the ankles and yank her to the edge of the bed, flipping her over and pulling her hips back until she’s on all fours. I slide my fingers through her folds, knowing exactly what I’ll find.
“You’re soaking wet, you little troublemaker.”
When she laughs I smack that ass hard enough to leave a red mark. Her only response is to wiggle her hips back and forth mischievously. I grab her ass and pull her back onto my cock, entering her wet heat in a single thrust deep enough to push my pubic bone against her ass. I pull out slowly, letting the head of my cock slide through her slick lower lips before I slam back inside to the hilt.
I start to move in earnest, rolling my hips at an angle that hits her sweet spot and elicits a helpless moan of pleasure from her throat. As much as she prides herself on being rebellious and keeping me on my toes, I know she needs this. She craves my possession as much as I crave her surrender.
She slides her hand down between her legs and I cover her hand with mine, thrusting steadily as we rub her clit in tandem. Her panting breaths and incoherent murmurs of pleasure tell me that she’s seconds away from climaxing. Perfect…
I yank her arm behind her, bending it at the elbow and resting it on her back. As she gasps in alarm, I press my lips against her ear and remind her of what she already knows.
“Your orgasms belong to me.”
“Fuck you!” she hisses, furious at my interference.
I slam in and out of her roughly, fucking her hard, knowing how much she craves it.
“Fuck me?” I laugh. “No…you’re the one getting fucked, kotik. If you haven’t noticed,” I grunt on a hard downward stroke, “I’m the one doing the fucking here. You’ll come when I say you can.”
She growls her displeasure and stubbornly pushes her hips toward me, attempting to force the contact she wants so badly. I bring the palm of my hand down on her ass twice, the correction swift and brutal. She stills, her chest heaving with fury and arousal in equal measure.
“If I didn’t know better, what you did tonight could lead me to think you don’t trust me,” I bite out between clenched teeth as I pound into her, giving her more of what she wants but not quite enough. “If I thought for a second you doubted my fidelity, I would be displeased, Roksana. So displeased. Do you trust me?”
“Wh-what?” she whispers absently, lost to the sensation of the broad mushroom head of my cock stroking her pussy relentlessly from the inside out.
“Do. You. Trust. Me?” I ask, thrusting harder on each word.
“Yes! Yes, I trust you!” she snaps as she pushes her hips back once again, earning a swat on her other ass cheek. I’m on my knees now as I power into her. The pleasure has me fighting for control as her inner walls clamp down on me, providing delicious resistance that I have to push against each time I enter her. I slide my hands over the reddened flesh of her ass that’s now hot to the touch. A sense of primal possession makes my fingers brutal as they knead her flesh. My thumbs slide together and pull her ass cheeks apart, giving me a groan-inducing, unfettered view of my cock as it relentlessly stakes its claim.
Telltale waves of heat radiate from the base of my spine, signaling my impending climax. Feeling my control fraying, I reach around and push her hand out of the way so I can take over. No real man would ever come without making certain his woman was satisfied--completely. I massage her clit with my fingertips, stimulating the swollen nub with rapid strokes that set her on fire as she writhes wildly beneath me. My balls clench and I know I’m sliding into that abyss of pleasure that only she can create.
Our lust is heavy in the air, the musky scent of fucking awakening every nerve ending in my body as we surrender to the fall. Sweat-slicked bodies collapse onto the bed and I eventually summon the strength to pull her with me toward the headboard and slide us under the covers.
Some time later, we remain in a deliciously warm tangle of limbs. I’m soothing her with long, lazy slides of my hands up and down her back. When my heartbeat and breathing have returned to normal, I press a kiss to her temple and speak of serious matters.
“You and your temper could have fucked up our surveillance, devotchka. We can’t afford any mistakes.”
“The hell I did,” she says, rising up on an elbow to glare at me. “I’ll have you know that every gangbanger in that club has a gHost attached to their car now.”
I grin up at her as I pull her down on top of me, ready for round two. “Woman, you never cease to amaze me.”
Chapter Thirty Six
Roksana
I’ve been around Oleg long enough to know this isn’t over. His job is interrogation, and nobody has more patience to gather Intel over time like he does. The promise of a new day doesn’t mean he’s forgotten a damn thing. His hand clamps over my arm like a vice when I attempt to ease out of the bed. Nobody can make my heart race with fear but my father and Oleg. It’s the reason I’ve spent years tormenting him. Like a moth to a flame I’m drawn to danger and nobody does danger like my Oleg.
“I already know. I’m just going to the bathroom.” I jerk my arm away defiantly. I won’t look at him because that would mean facing those stabby eyes of his. I really don’t know how else to describe those eyes that have the ability to pin me to the wall with one look. Even after all those years of homeschooling and an accelerated education, I can’t find the right words to describe this man I’ve killed with. If you think sex forms a bond…murdering together takes it to a whole new level.
I pee and brush my teeth, tousle my hair, and put on lip gloss. I may as well use my feminine charms to get him thinking with the gorgeous head between his legs and not the one on his shoulders.
“It won’t work—”
I jump at the sound of his voice and some of the lip gloss ends up beneath my bottom lip.
“—I won’t be thinking with my cock this morning, babe.”
His tone is cold, his face is stoic, and his eyes…like I said, stabby eyes.
I huff out of the bathroom, furious with him for reading me so easily. I plop down on the bed with my arms folded like some petulant child stubbornly bracing for the upcoming battle.
He pulls on a pair of sweats that hang off his hips just enough to show that sexy V that leads down to the promise of pleasure. Long, easy strides bring him to within a foot of me where he stops with his hands on his hips, his head hanging down, deep in thought. He isn’t a giant like most of the Russian men who work for my father, yet his tall, athletic body is solid and strong, promising swift retribution to any enemy who dares to cross him.
He lifts his head, his eyes solemn. “In our line of work, cool heads prevail. You fucked up last night; you know it, I know it, and now you’ve put me in the position of hoping your father doesn’t ask. You’ve put me in the middle. You owe
me more than that. We’ve killed together, tortured together, loved, and hated together—hell, we’ve incinerated bodies together; sent them straight to hell where they belong. Have the decency to respect me, Roksana.”
Now I feel bad.
“It pissed me off seeing that bitch all over you. It isn’t like you haven’t done the same thing—or have you forgotten prom night?”
He takes a deep breath, as if striving for patience. Good luck with that.
“If you think I was going to let that silver-spoon-fed punk climb inside you and take what was mine—my woman’s virginity—you don’t know me at all. Trust me enough to know that there is no other woman for me. I waited years for you. Do you know how many nights I went to bed stroking my cock, thinking about what I was going to do to you? Finally, I told your father my intentions – and he agreed, long before that night we pissed him off and he decreed that you were promised to me.”
He leans down, placing his palms on the bed and leaning in until I have no choice but to look in his eyes.
“I’ll ask you again. Do you trust me?” His voice is calm, his eyes clear and direct -- so why do I feel like I just got hit with a sledgehammer?
“Yes, no, maybe -- I don’t know. What do you want me to say, Oleg?”
He hangs his head again, shaking it slowly this time as if he’s exasperated. After a long moment, he exhales heavily and raises his head. He straightens and tilts my chin up, his thumb stroking my skin as he speaks, “It’s okay. You’re playing the trust game and pretending that’s what’s going on here, but we both know this is about surrender. The ultimate act of surrender. It just means I have to work harder to show you that you can trust me, that you can give yourself to me and not lose yourself along the way.”
Wow—just fucking wow.
Chapter Thirty Seven
Oleg
I return to the adjoining room I still maintain for times such as this, to take a shower and give her time to think. I have to admit, as pissed as I am about her almost blowing an operation, certain aspects of the situation are funny. But letting her know there’s a part of me that thinks so isn’t the smart thing to do. You don’t pour gas on the raging fire that is my Roksana.
I look down at the wedding band I’ve had on since last night; it’s a simple white gold band. I decided to leave it on because its message is strong, resolute, determined, and committed. Just like me.
I step out of my room and see the Pakhan headed in my direction. Shit. Does he know about last night?
“Good morning, sir.” His eyes rake me from head to toe, landing immediately on the ring.
“Is there something I should know?”
I hate it when he does this. Is he referring to last night’s activities or the ring?
“I’m sorry, sir. I don’t quite understand what you’re asking.” That’s a safe answer. I’m not lying and I’m not verbally regurgitating all the information regarding last night’s chaos. So far, so good.
“The ring… Did you and my daughter elope?”
“I would never do that, sir.”
“Good. I’m glad to hear it; my wife will let you live another day. You’re an honorable man, son. One I will be proud to have as a son-in-law. Wearing that ring shows you have character. The plans are coming together for the double wedding -- yours and Nikita’s.”
“Good luck getting her to agree to a date, sir. I haven’t had any luck so far. Why not make it a triple…Kodiak and Logan?”
“You may have a point. It will solidify the ties—strengthen the family. The old man’s going to need some grandchildren to take over this operation.”
“I hardly view you as being old, sir.”
His eyes get a faraway look for an instant, and I know I’m witnessing a rare pensive moment that hints at thoughts of mortality and legacy. But the moment is over in an instant and once again he’s all business, asking brusquely, “The surveillance, how’s it going?”
Relief washes over me. Had he asked me point blank about last night’s escapades, I’d have told him the truth. Around here…to lie is to die. Even if that wasn’t the case, I respect him enough to be honest.
“You should be proud of your daughter and her protégé, they were successful in placing listening devices on gang member vehicles.”
He pats me on the back and says one more thing. “That’s just one of the many reasons I like you. You give your people credit rather than trying to take the glory. I do, however, recognize your participation in that success. Keep me up to date on the surveillance.”
His words hit me hard; as they always do. Glazov has a way of making profound statements without even trying. And with that… he disappears down the hallway like the vapor of a ghost, and just like a ghost, he’s unreadable. Just because he didn’t say anything, doesn’t mean he doesn’t know.
I step into the surveillance room. Glazov has this place set up like something the CIA would use. An L-shaped desk doesn’t even begin to describe the area where the computers and monitors are. It takes up two full walls. Double doors open to a huge walk-in closet full of anything a person would need for surveillance, and it’s all top-of-the-line equipment.
Dmitriy is smoothly wheeling from one computer to another. The guy’s in his element. Where most people would use a floor mat to give the office chair mobility to access all the monitors, the flooring in here is black marble. Leave it to the Glazovs to take office chair mobility over the top—nothing but the best for this organization. Where most would see it as opulence, I know the reasoning behind it. Surveillance is a huge part of what we do and something going wrong could mean someone dying needlessly.
Even the simple things like a battery going dead in a listening device where we’ve planted a mole could cause one of our men to go through hell on earth. There are people who, if given the chance to send a message to the Pakhan, would put the mole through excruciating pain before killing him. The poor man’s torture would be a form of entertainment for the evening. It’s one thing to be killed quickly; quite another to beg to die. You’re begging an enemy who sees a quick death as a merciful one. There is no mercy in this game—only payback—a relentless game of revenge that never ends for either side.
I approach the chair, placing my hands on the back of it as I listen in. It’s the woman from the night before, no doubt. Even though we don’t have a visual on the enemy yet, the girl’s uncensored anger will work to our benefit.
“You a liar! A player! You been fucking some bitch behind my back and she found out about me.”
I can just see the woman pointing to herself and weaving her head back and forth in anger. “Hell, for all I know, she knows I’m living in the outer loop area. You just need to tell me, Miguelito, should I be expecting a drive-by? Should I be expecting bullets flying through my windows and walls, messin’ up my crib and puttin’ my life in danger? I don’t need no man. I don’t need you. I make good money all by myself. What man wouldn’t want all this?”
Another visual of her waving her hands up and down her body goes through my head. The woman is talking so fast she isn’t giving him a chance to answer. “I mean, really, how many baby mommas I need to be worried about? Damn baby momma drama…just what I need.”
“Ay Dios mio, callate—just shut-up all-fuckin’-ready. You’re making me crazy!” The guy finally gets a word in edgewise.
By now Anastasia and Dmitriy are laughing hysterically. She smacks his leg, declaring she’s going to pee herself because it’s so funny. I have to admit this is turning out to be an interesting surveillance job, to say the least.
“I told you they’d think one of his women did it.”
I whip around and eye Roksana as she enters the room. My words come out in a low, menacing warning, “That’s not the issue.” I lean in close to her ear and hiss, “I’m not discussing this in public.”
I will confess to being shocked when she actually shuts up. That’s Roksana for you, pushing the envelope right to the edge. I have to give it to t
he girl, she knows how to push limits, but she also knows how to not take it too far. I’m sure years of dealing with her father have taught her well.
Chapter Thirty Eight
Roksana
My spine stiffens when I hear my father’s voice over the intercom. “Roksana, come to my office. Now. Alone.”
Time stops and silence reigns when everyone turns around and looks at me.
I leave the room looking a lot more confident than I feel. Walking down the hall is like walking to an execution. Dead woman walking, is all that comes to mind. Although I don’t think I’m headed to my own death sentence, being called to my father’s office and told to come alone? Well, it makes me nervous.
I breathe deeply and raise my hand to knock on the door. As usual my hand is poised to knock when I hear the distinctive baritone that I love so much.
“Come in.”
I open the door and the first thing I notice is that Novak isn’t here. His office chair is empty. This is so not good.
I stand in front of Father’s desk looking as innocent as I possibly can. “Yes, Papa.”
He looks up at me—just stares for what seems like an eternity. Then he interlocks his fingers behind his neck and leans back in his chair, still considering me pensively.
“You kids always do that, you know. It’s one of your tells.”
I look at him questioningly, still the picture of innocence. I highly doubt he’s buying my bullshit, but hey, a girl has to try. “Excuse me?” I say in the softest of voices.
“Oh, no, no, no,” he chuckles. “I’m not going to tell you. A good poker player never reveals his hand.”
He’s still looking at me like he’s waiting for me to say something. I don’t want to say something because I don’t know how much he knows. I will never lie to my father, but I’m not going to go out of my way to invite trouble, either. Somehow I resist the urge to shuffle my feet nervously.
“I think we both know why you’re here, Roksana.”
Deadly (Born Bratva Book 5) Page 14
