Scarred_A Russian Mob Romance_Anosov Family Mafia

by Vivian Gray

  “You listening?”

  He focused on her face, offered a guilty smile. “What?”

  She didn’t seem too upset as she chomped into her sandwich, a tiny pleased smile on her face. “Yeah. That’s what I thought.”

  They ate in silence, sending knowing smirks each other’s way. Her place was comfortable and nice. Way nicer than anything he’d be able to put together. Her stuff matched and had a theme to it.

  “So… what should we do about the guy that attacked me tonight?” She cleared the plates when they were done.

  “I’ll take care of that.” Silas shifted on the stool, his hand going to his holstered Glock – a tic he’d had since joining the MC.

  “Oh yeah? What does that mean?”

  “You won’t be attacked again. And now I just have one more reason to make sure these assholes don’t ever mess with any of ours again.”

  She arched a brow. “Ours?”

  “Yeah. Death Knells’ property.”

  She huffed, her jaw jutting out. “I’m not property.”

  “I know.” He held her gaze, electricity skating through him. God, he wanted to push her up against the wall… Make sure she knew just how sexy she was, strutting around in her underwear… Making grilled cheese sandwiches with the perfect amount of crisp and melted cheese.

  She studied him for a moment and then strutted past him, flicking off the kitchen light. “You coming to bed?”

  He stood so fast the stool wobbled. When she pushed open the bedroom door, her heated glance told him all he needed to know. This girl had one thing in mind.

  Or maybe it was just wishful thinking. He watched as she disappeared into the bathroom attached to the bedroom. The sound of water rushed behind the closed door. He smirked, tugging off his kutte and draping it over a chair against the wall. He’d do his part by spending the night with her. But she called the shots as to what she wanted from him.

  Silas eased onto the bed. The mattress was thick and comfortable, topped with a puffy down comforter. He smoothed his hand over it. Sleeping here wouldn’t be so bad. Her bedroom was decorated with deep mauve and hints of black.

  When the bathroom door opened, Jessa stood on the threshold, hand propped up against the frame. Her naked breasts gleamed, nipples two tight points. His mouth fell open, gaze hopelessly soldered on her breasts. Exquisite, perfect breasts.

  “Why do you look so speechless?” Her knowing grin was a taunt. She sauntered toward him, smoothing her hands over his shoulders. “You don’t seem like a guy who gets speechless.”

  “Uh,” he began.

  “Is this okay?” Her voice was a soft purr, one that made his cock jump.

  He swallowed hard, nodding. “This is fucking great.” His gaze traveled over her taut, porcelain belly, up over the jutting lines of her ribs. Her areolas were a gauzy pink, like something from a fairy tale. His hands went to the dip in her waist of their own accord. He squeezed the flesh above her hips.

  Her eyes flashed. “Just stay with me tonight,” she pleaded. Her knees made indents on the bed as she clambered on top of him.

  “I’m yours.” His breath came out against the tight peak of her nipple. Her skin pebbled beneath his mouth. “Promise.”

  She settled onto his lap, knees bent with her legs straddling him. He swept his hand up the knobby bones of her spine, pressing her into him, urging the kiss.

  Their mouths connected hard, part lust and part confusion, until a sweet kiss emerged. Their lips made a smacking sound as one kiss blurred into a second, and then a third. When Jessa pressed her tongue into his mouth, he welcomed the sweet heat.

  Jessa grunted, rocking on top of him. His hands shot to her hips, fingers twitching with the urge to feel more of this woman. To touch every square inch of her body.

  “Please,” she whispered hotly in his ear, “I need this, Silas. You have no idea.”

  His eyes nearly rolled back into his head. Like he could say no to that. Like he could say no to her. “I told you. I’m yours. Any way you want it.”

  A coy grin crossed her face, her nails raking up and down his biceps. “Good. Take your clothes off.”

  She pushed off of him, the expectant look on her face telling him to hurry it up. He fumbled with his belt to get his pants off in record time, then tugged off the simple black T-shirt – tossing everything to the side. When he was left in black boxers, her gaze fell to his crotch.

  “This is what I want to see.” She tugged his boxers down, inhaling sharply when his cock bobbed free. He didn’t make a habit of checking out other guys, but he knew he was big. His cockhead glistened, bulbous and red. Her cool hand encircled him, making him jolt beneath the unexpected touch. Then she pushed him back onto the bed before shimmying out of her panties.

  He grunted, reaching for the swell of her hip, desperate to touch the luscious V between her legs. Her hair was trimmed and dark. He gritted his teeth, suddenly desperate to taste her. But she climbed on top of him, resuming her former position.

  “I want to be on top,” she said, snagging him in another kiss.

  His hands roamed her body as she moved against him, stiff nipples dragging over his chest, the heat of her pussy brushing against his thigh. “Jessa,” he warned, squeezing her hips. The teasing was nice, but she was too good at it. Or maybe it had just been too long. Or maybe she was just too damn sexy.

  Whatever it was, he wanted her. Desperately.

  “Mmmm.” Her head lolled to the side, a lazy smile covering her face. “You’re gonna feel so good – buried inside of me.” She let a throaty laugh. “I can’t wait to feel your cock.”

  He gritted his teeth, tugging her down by the hips. “Then why don’t you sit on it?”

  Her tongue traced the outline of her lips. “Oh, I will.” She brushed her pussy over the tip of his cock.

  She was wet; so fucking wet.

  “Come on, babe.” He rocked beneath her, like this might hurry up her lazy pace. He wasn’t used to women leading the way like this, but he liked it. Usually, the women he fucked around with were perfunctory; fulfilling a physical need. And most of them were a little star struck around him anyway. Too timid to really claim what they wanted.

  But this? He grunted as she rolled in a wide circle on top of him, the juice of her pussy leaking out and dribbling down her thigh. This was a different level.

  “I’ll sit on it only if you promise me one thing.” Her voice was distant, like she was a million miles away.

  “Anything.”

  “You have to fuck me until I come. And I have to come first.”

  His chest nearly imploded at that request. He buried his face in the valley of her breasts, then sucked on one nipple long and hard. She shrieked with a giggle.

  “Deal.” It might be a challenge to last that long, but it was worth it. “Now sit on it, babe.”

  With a throaty hum, she sunk down on top of him, her velvety pussy encompassing him. His eyes fluttered shut, a groan escaping him as she slowly and exquisitely took every last inch of him inside her. He tensed, his thighs going rock-hard, as she started a languorous rhythm.

  “Oh… my God.” Her breath came out in short spurts at his ear.

  And then she was pounding against him, riding him so hard the air in his lungs evaporated. He hadn’t expected this. No way. Not in a million years. All he could do was hang on for dear life, her face pinched into pleasure, her breasts jiggling as she rode him.

  “Ohhhh, fuck!” Her fingernails dug into his shoulders, and he grimaced against the orgasm churning inside him.

  She had to come first… but he couldn’t resist matching her movements from below. He pounded up against her, watching the expressions on her face. Her pussy tightened around him. She hooked her elbow around his neck and brought them even closer together.

  “Fuck, Silas!”

  And then she came – a quaking, pulsing, juicy mess, as her scream filled the room. He squeezed her tight as his own orgasm came barreling through, his cock spa
sming, a gruff groan escaping him.

  Once the freight train of pleasure subsided, she rested her forehead against his shoulder.

  “That,” she said, “was better than I expected.”

  Chapter Five

  Jessa awoke the next morning to a dull ache. She furrowed her brow with her eyes closed, not quite willing to greet the day yet. Her head hurt. Or was it her face? She shifted in bed, the soft sheets tickling her naked breasts. She sighed, turning onto her side.

  Nope, that was her head. Her head definitely hurt. Too many cocktails the night before, no doubt.

  Her eyes drifted open. And then she gasped.

  Silas was in bed next to her.

  Naked.

  He had one leg kicked out from underneath the sheets. Turned away from her, the glorious curve of his ass was more like fine art than a dirty biker. She blinked a few times, trying to absorb the scene. He was sculpted. Even in his sleep, his calves were flexed.

  But why was he in her bed?

  She sat up, her breasts tumbling out from under the sheet. She gasped, gathering the material around her again. Maybe they were past the point of modesty, though, if he was in her bed and nude.

  A flash of a memory. His smirk in the kitchen. Greasy fingertips from a sandwich. She rubbed her face. Her very skull ached. How had any of this happened?

  Silas shifted on the bed, flopping onto his back. His scent reached her, something between sweat and cologne. Her gaze drifted to between his legs. His cock was limp, resting in a tightly trimmed thatch of dark hair. But even soft it was huge.

  She blinked, unable to rip her gaze away. Judging by how the area between her legs felt, she’d most likely gotten pretty familiar with that cock.

  Oh. My. God.

  She pushed out of bed, stumbling once her feet hit the ground. Every part of her protested, but seemingly for different reasons. The back of her head seemed hangover-related, but the ache on the side of her face was inexplicable. When she got into the bathroom and looked at her reflection, she gasped.

  A gnarly bruise covered the side of her face, spanning from her earlobe to her jawline. “What the fuck?”

  Silas stirred. Memories rushed back to her – a man holding her down… Silas grabbing her hips… Then the punch across the face.

  He’d done this to her.

  “What the fuck did you do to me?” She tore the blankets off the bed, exposing him fully.

  He jolted awake, looking over at her with bleary eyes. His abs flexed as he sat up, belly creasing in multiple places. God, even when she was hurt and confused, he was still too sexy to look away from.

  “Nothing!” He held up his hands as she thwacked him with a pillow. “Nothing you didn’t ask for.”

  “Oh yeah? Well, what’s this?” She pointed to the side of her face. “You think it’s cool to beat a girl up? Why the fuck are you even here?”

  Silas stared at her for a moment, clarity washing over his face. “You don’t remember.”

  “I remember enough,” she spat. Even though she didn’t remember anything.

  “Jessa, I fucking rescued you from that Wicked Spawn asshole who broke into your house trying to rape you.”

  His words hung awkwardly in the air. She grabbed at the robe hanging on the back of her door and wrapped it around her, extra tight, like it might help stave off the confusion and ickiness.

  “I beat him up, and he got away.” Silas watched her intensely. “You made sandwiches, and then you basically climbed on top of me wanting to fuck.”

  She stuck out her jaw, crossing her arms. “Yeah, well, I doubt that.”

  A disbelieving grin slowly crawled across his face. She hated how handsome he was in the morning light, even through the haze of a hangover. “Trust me, babe. You wanted it. And I gave it to you exactly how you wanted it.”

  Her cheeks flushed at the naked honesty of his words, and his body. His pecs were solid hills. The tiny mole on his low belly sang to her, begging her to catalog all of the quirks of this man. His kutte hanging over the side of her armchair snapped her back to reality. This wasn’t just a sexy man. This was a lethal biker, who probably had a history. Not to mention an almost certain string of easy fucks and “bellhangers”, as they used to call them.

  “Did we use anything?”

  Silas ran a hand through his dark hair. It fell almost to his shoulders when it was down. “No.”

  “Oh, great.” She threw her hands in the air. “So not only did I get attacked, but I also got an STD.”

  His brow creased. “Hey. Watch it. I’m clean. I’m not gonna act like we talked about it last night though. We didn’t. I was too caught up in the moment.”

  She harrumphed, sitting on the edge of the bed, facing away from him. Silence hung between them as she churned over the new knowledge. So maybe an STD wasn’t on the table. Thank God. But what about the rest of it?

  She combed through the scant details she could remember from last night… The struggle against a heavy body on top of her… A ripping skirt…

  She shivered.

  “Well… thanks.” She turned to look at him, offering him a small smile. “For rescuing me.” She paused, about to add but not for the sex. But maybe it had been good. She could only imagine it would be good. Fuck, why had she drank so much? It seemed wrong to have sex with someone like Silas and not remember it.

  “I promised Stone I’d look after you.” Silas sniffed, rolling out of bed. “This is exactly why he wanted us to get married, too.”

  Jessa rubbed a palm over her forehead. She hated how right her dad had been about worrying about her. The danger was greater than she’d imagined. “I’ll admit, I thought he was exaggerating about needing to protect me so much. But how does getting married help? I don’t get it. Why can’t you just swing by every once in a while?”

  “Because if you’re the wife of the Death Knells’ president, shit gets real.” Silas bent down, scooping his boxers off the floor. Jessa tried not to stare while he redressed. “Maybe it won’t make sense to you, but if you’re my wife, those assholes know they can’t come anywhere near you. Coming after an ex-president’s daughter is shitty but coming after a sitting president’s wife is forbidden.”

  “But they’d still try anyway.”

  “Yeah. But if—when—they try, then we have all the more reason to take them out.”

  The room was quiet as she thought, save the rustling of Silas’ jeans as he pulled them on. She shifted on the bed; her entire body ached. Parts that couldn’t be related to sex. The bruise on her face was formidable, and when she spoke, her jaw hurt.

  “So, what’s this bruise from?”

  “He pistol-whipped you.”

  “And you thought that fucking me afterward was the way to make it better?” She sent a wry look his way.

  “Hey, you climbed on top of me.” He sent her a pointed look as he cinched his belt around his waist.

  In the early morning light, the dark sprinkling of chest hair over his otherwise smooth chest was endearing – made her want to say, “Aww,” and then pull him down on top of her, make him take off all those clothes he’d just put on.

  “I’m sure.” She’d said it sarcastically, but actually, she was sure. In the light of day, sober and beat-up, she still wanted him. “Hopefully I at least got an orgasm out of it.”

  Silas let out a disbelieving laugh. “Oh, trust me. You came harder than I expected.”

  Her cheeks flamed, spurring to life a lot of thoughts that needed to remain dormant. Such as: what had he done to her? How good was it? And why did she so desperately want a second chance? He’d seen her in her most vulnerable state. Despite the persona she put out there, she was guarded about intimacy. She didn’t like one-night stands, didn’t like letting in just anyone. When she hooked up, she liked it to mean something.

  And with Silas, all it meant was a sexy man who sent her hormones into overdrive.

  One thing was clear, at least; she couldn’t be trusted to be around him whil
e drunk. So that would never happen again. Because the more she thought about it, the more the decision became clear. She did need his protection. And they needed to do something about it.

  Jessa jolted when his hand smoothed over her shoulder. He looked down at her with something like tenderness. Or maybe she just wanted to imagine a man like him looking at her like that.

  “Last night you got lucky. If I had stopped by later, or even earlier…” He shook his head, the implication weighing heavy in the air. “I don’t want to see you get hurt. I promised Stone I wouldn’t let that happen.”