Dirty Love (The Lion and The Mouse Book 2)

by Kenya Wright

  “Do we have a deal?” Valentina spread her legs apart. The folds looked moist. I wanted to stick my finger inside her sex and hear how she moaned.

  She damn sure looked wet. She was turned on, and I hadn’t even done anything to her yet. The sight had my cock pushing against pants, and I welcomed the pain.

  Rubbing my face, I calmed myself down and pulled the dress down. “We’re good. Your secret is safe.”

  “But I didn’t make good on my promise.”

  “Don’t play with me, Valentina. I’ll have you bent over in that castle moaning and waking everyone up.”

  “That sounds like a good way to spend the evening.”

  “Do you want some dick or are you trying to get a bed slave?”

  “What?” She looked annoyed.

  “What did you do tonight?”

  “None of your business.”

  “Does it have anything to do with the ballerina or Sasha?”

  “Again.” She leaned my way. “None of your business.”

  “Knife in the chest?” I shrugged. “The ballerina had a knife in her chest and she’d been at your Uncle Igor’s event.”

  She slammed her fist on the table. “Zatknis', poka ya ne ub'yu tebya!”

  I bet that was worse than I hope your kids shit in your soup.

  She glared at me. “You missed your moment.”

  I tilted my head to the side. “What moment was that?”

  “You missed your moment to have me.”

  “I’ll be sure to repent for my sins.”

  “It still won’t get you to heaven.” She flashed me a cruel smile. “Heaven is between my thighs.”

  “I bet it is.” I licked my lips just thinking about how she would taste. I wanted to bury my face between her those legs and make her scream my name. I’d make her tell me who was giving it to her.

  “I’m not fucking you, until you tell me the truth,” I said. “Until then, we’re done with secrets.”

  “Let’s see how long you do that. You’ll need a friend.”

  “I still haven’t decided if you are a friend.”

  She shook her head. “Why the hell wouldn’t I be a friend?”

  “Someone’s working with Sasha—”

  “I am not working with that kusok der'ma.” She hit the table again. “I will always have my brother’s back. No one can get in between Kazimir and me.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  “And if I’m not?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You still missed your moment,” she said.

  “No, I didn’t.” I inhaled her. “Your pussy is wet. You want this dick, don’t you? You’re probably wondering if the rumors are true.”

  “What rumor?”

  “Black men and their big dicks.”

  She snorted.

  “How bad do you want to spread those thighs right now? How bad do you want my finger slipping between them?”

  Her words came out breathless. “Fuck you.”

  “Fuck me?” Playing with danger, I grabbed her chair and pulled it closer. I place my hand on her thigh.

  She trembled against me as her chest rose and fell in anticipation.

  “You want me to touch you, Valentina?”

  She said nothing.

  “I won’t touch that pussy, unless you beg.”

  She bit her lip and whispered, “Please.”

  Desire burned on my fingertips. I slid my hand up her thighs and guided my finger to her moist lips. They parted easily for my fingers, and I found her hard, little clit begging for attention.

  She whispered something in Russian and I wished I knew what she was saying.

  “Speak English for me, baby.” I slipped my finger back and forth on her clit, wishing it was the head of my dick. Had we been somewhere else, I would’ve ripped the top of her dress and sucked on those big breasts.

  “Fuck me.” Her pupils dilated. She was so fucking turned on. She moaned, looking so young and pure, but I knew she was too deadly to fuck with.

  “Please,” she mumbled, lost in the pleasure.

  I picked up the speed, rubbing her clit back and forth with my finger, slipping easily through her juicy pussy lips. “You use this pussy to get whatever you want, don’t you? I bet you have men wrapped around your finger.”

  She was too far gone to answer.

  And in all fairness, I was too far gone too.

  I didn’t know what finger-fucking her was supposed to prove. I damn sure wanted the pussy. That was obvious. Either way, neither one of us noticed the tall Russian stomping toward us until he lifted up the table and overturned it.

  I moved my hands. Valentina fixed her dress, and we both shot up. I got a closer look. The guy was the one they’d introduced as Misha, and rage blared over his face.

  “You killed her!” Misha slung bloody ballerina slippers at Valentina.

  Valentina was caught off-guard. She’d just probably been close to coming and now she was being accused of murder. Oleg returned.

  Several men appeared. They looked like Misha’s men. They got between them, making sure Misha didn’t do anything to her.

  I got on Valentina’s other side and pulled out my own gun. Oleg nodded, probably relieved to have someone helping.

  Both Misha and Valentina yelled at each other in Russian. I had no idea what they were saying, but it looked like Valentina was not fessing up to the dead ballerina. And I didn’t know why Misha cared.

  Was it his girlfriend or something? What the fuck is going on?

  Misha switched to English. “You go with me.”

  “I will not!” Valentina yelled.

  Misha gestured for a man to grab her. Oleg stepped in front. I raised my gun and aimed. Misha’s men pointed their guns at me.

  The music stopped, and I was ready to get out of Prague for the fifth time today.

  Then, another guy appeared, and for the first time today, I was happy to see Em’s Russian entering the club with his own men at his side.

  Kazimir stepped up to us, took in the guns and desperation on Valentina’s face, and looked at me.

  “Where’s Em?” he asked.

  Really? There’s like five guys pointing their guns at my face. Maybe you can help me out first?

  “She’s on the dance floor,” I said.

  He didn’t look in that direction. Instead, he turned to Valentina. “You weren’t at the feast?”

  “I was sick and went back to my room to rest,” she said.

  “You didn’t.”

  Misha’s men put down their guns. Sighing, I lowered mine.

  Kazimir turned to Misha. “You’re angry, cousin. Go home. Get some sleep. We leave in the morning.”

  “And what about Olesya?” Misha glared.

  “I’ll deal with it,” Kazimir said.

  “No disrespect to you Kazimir, but I would rather this guy deal with it, than you.” Misha gestured to me.

  I opened my mouth in shock. “Deal with what? I’m not even in this or know what y’all are talking about.”

  “Fine.” Kazimir nodded. “Maxwell will deal with it.”

  Misha nodded and walked off.

  Deal with what? This better not be about the dead ballerina.

  Misha’s men scowled at me. Anywhere else, I made friends with ease. Here, I was making enemies for standing around.

  Kazimir turned to me. “We’ll meet at six in the morning to deal with it.”

  “Deal with what?”

  “Take my sister home.” He pointed to Oleg. “Take him too. I’ll come to your room in the morning.”

  Excuse me? Are you talking to me or Oleg?

  Em’s Russian walked off, or more like he prowled away.

  Dude?! Deal with what?

  And he didn’t go straight to Em. Instead, he watched her as stalked the edge of the dance floor, putting several drunk and dancing people between them.

  She had no idea he’d arrived. She was too busy swinging the bottle around and dancin
g to some hard-hitting song with incomprehensible words. Thank God she wasn’t dancing with anyone. The way the Russian was looking, he appeared ready to kill anyone that was near her.

  And men were damn sure near. Many stared. Others drooled. A few tried to approach her. Each time they did, she would just give them a chilling look, and they’d back away. But still, many watched her, circling around the space that she drunkenly danced in.

  Valentina grabbed my hand. Her fingers shook against mine. She whispered in my ear, “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “Not telling.”

  “Valentina, I’m pretty sure everyone thinks you killed this ballerina chick. I’m almost sure of it and I don’t know why you even tried to get me to give you an alibi.”

  “Still, thank you.” She guided me away.

  I glanced at the dance floor again.

  The Russian still watched Emily. Lust and anger mingled in his eyes. It made my heart boom in my ears. Everything told me I should wait here. This shit could go really bad.

  Kazimir didn’t look like he would be having a nice conversation with Em. And she was drunk and sad. This was not the time to try and reason with her.

  She would cut his throat first.

  Fuck! Em, don’t kill this motherfucker. We need to get Xavier straight and our asses out of Prague.

  I prepared to go Em’s way and tell her, but Valentina tightened my grip as she trembled against me. Then my mind went to Valentina and how weak she suddenly seemed.

  “It doesn’t matter, if Kazimir thinks I killed her,” Valentina said. “He can never know for sure.”

  “Did you?”

  “Let’s go.”

  I walked out with Valentina for so many reasons. Her scent lured me away. Her body made my dick ache. The mystery of what she’d done had her perfectly manicured fingers wrapped around my brain.

  But most of all, I walked out with Valentina because of how soft and wet she’d slipped along my fingers.

  Damn, Em. I’m sorry. Don’t kill him.

  Twelve

  Kazimir

  Why would Valentina take them here?

  Had everything not been so crazy, I would’ve taken Emily somewhere beautiful. Delicious dishes. Succulent drinks. Soft music in an elegant surrounding.

  This place reminded me of a POW camp. Harsh and very much from war. That was the last thing I needed to think about, with all that had been lost.

  Scantily clad women—boozed up or high on whatever— lined the scuffed, narrow walls. Dozens of tattooed and pierced men stood in the corners, watching the women like predators. Hard-grinding music piped out of hidden speakers.

  Rest in peace, Uncle.

  Many had died around me, but Uncle Igor’s death hit me hard. I’d just stood next to him, talking about Emily and pondering my future. Now, he was gone. And I didn’t like the way he died, in a banquet room full of strangers. Big names. Lots of money. World leaders. But no one who really loved him, besides his son and me.

  I won’t die that way. Alone and surrounded by staff.

  I watched Emily dance.

  Everything was different now.

  If Sasha thought he’d guess my next moves, then he’d die in that falsehood. Nothing—not even the landscape of this planet—would ever be the same. I’d move mountains, if necessary.

  He’d taken Emily’s friend, a man who’d been more of her father than her own had been. Sasha hurt her, and I would come for him, and I would not show pity or humanity as I ripped him apart.

  And what about my mouse, who’d become a lion? What do I do with her?

  Tonight, her hair fell around her shoulders and drew attention to the lush curves and yummy ass. All I could think about was how delicate her hands felt. How smooth her skin was. I knew how those nails felt digging into my back. How she moaned. How wet the pussy could get. How those fingers tugged at my hair as she came against my mouth.

  I knew it all. The electric sizzle of her touch. The primal awareness that came when others drooled over her.

  So, dangerous.

  I watched her from head to toe, wanting to fuck and punish her at the same time. I wanted to tie her up, lock her up, safe from anyone who could threaten my grip on her. But I also wanted to pound her with my cock the whole time and make her promise to never run off again.

  No. It won’t be that easy with her.

  The song shifted.

  Some guy pulled her into a slow dance.

  I stood frozen. Rage fired my blood. A sick darkness radiated through me, pain and other things made of the devil searing and soul deep. It took my breath and every ounce of control to not shoot at them through the crowd.

  But then she shook her head. I gritted my teeth but held myself back.

  He tugged her forward anyway.

  She twisted his wrists in the wrong direction until he let her go.

  An evil grin peaked on my face, but I wiped it away.

  Little mouse.

  Still, the guy hadn’t gotten the picture. Drunk, he stumbled toward her, thrusting his crotch to the rhythm of the song. Luka appeared, yanked the gyrating guy up like a doll, and carried him away.

  That was the moment Emily realized I was here. With wide eyes, she watched Luka carry him away and then frantically searched the place.

  She reminded me of when she was on the roof. She had done the same thing. Smart, she didn’t let herself look scared, but I saw the bottle shake a little as she lifted it to her mouth and gulped.

  I stepped through the people. They moved away, giving me space as soon as they saw my face.

  And then she turned around and spotted me.

  How long did you think you would be away?

  I took the bottle from her and took a long swig.

  Do you understand that there will be no space?

  People backed up and gave us room. A lot of locals were in here. They were smart enough to not take out their phones. No one wanted to be a witness in this country. No one wanted to be the first to post anything around here, especially when a simple tweet could get them killed.

  I drank some more, relishing in the sting of the vodka.

  She blinked.

  And yes, you’re in trouble, mysh. A lot of trouble. I was scared that someone was going to kill you. So much that I was ready to kill my own sister.

  Luka got to her right.

  She headed for the exit.

  I led her out of the nightclub.

  Luka took one look at my face and he turned away.

  We got outside. Oleg’s car was gone. I figured Maxwell had done as I said. Luka opened the rear door to my limo and stepped aside. Em climbed in. I followed. The door closed.

  Our gazes met.

  Did she have any idea how much restraint I was barely holding onto? Rage pulsated in my temple’s vein. Meanwhile, hunger echoed in my cock. In fact, my body throbbed with need.

  I should’ve stopped her in the club’s hallway and fucked her against the wall.

  I needed to trap and confine her to me. Make her submit. I wanted to leash her for eternity. And that wouldn’t be enough? I had to sink my teeth into her flesh. Dominating her. She wasn’t a fucking mouse. She was a lioness, clawing and snapping. And I would tame her, if necessary.

  Luka got in the front with the driver, probably not wanting to be a witness to our argument.

  She set her hand on my thigh. “Kaz, I needed a drink.”

  She needed a drink? In Harlem, she said she needed some fresh air, and apparently walked a few miles in a tunnel where anybody could’ve raped her. But now, she needed a drink.

  “I’m…” Her words were shaky. “I’m sorry.”

  Out of patience, I grabbed her hand, shoved it between my legs, and thrust my aching cock against her palm. “Open your mouth again and…”

  The threat hung in the air.

  “And what?” she whispered.

  I unzipped my pants.

  The limo started and moved away from the club.

/>   Tension filled the limo.

  I felt Emily’s gaze on the side of my face. Her hand pulled away.

  “No,” I groaned.

  “I won’t stay where you want me to.”

  “I see that.”

  “If we’re going to do this, you have to understand that.”

  “If?”

  And then she shifted and curled her small frame next to me.

  Cuddling won’t save you tonight.

  Her other hand slid back between my legs, cupping my hard cock possessively. It was like she was telling me that no matter how mad I was, that length still belonged to her. I took a deep breath, inhaling her scent. For the first time that night, I calmed.

  I placed my arm around her back and said through clenched teeth, “This discussion isn’t over.”

  “I’m sure it isn’t.” She placed her hand over my cock and it twitched under her warmth. “How is Xavier?”

  My heart stopped for a minute. That hadn’t happened in a long time. I tightened my hold onto her. “Emily…”

  She moved away from me. “Emily? X must be dead.”

  I didn’t know what else to say. I was in the business of killing people, not helping them mourn. “I’m sorry, mysh.”

  She shook her head and wiped a tear from her face. “I’m fine.”

  No, you’re not.

  She stared out of the window as buildings passed us by. “And how is Uncle Igor?”

  “He died too.”

  She let out an exasperated breath. “We fucked up, Kaz.”

  “We didn’t.”

  She hugged herself and leaned against the door. “We did.”

  We said nothing else on the rest of the ride, and too much space ran between us.

  After a few minutes, she sat up. “This isn’t the direction to the castle.”

  “You have a good sense of direction. We’re not going to the castle. I’ve had my fill of it. We’ll be at the Four Seasons tonight.”

  “Where the ballerina died?”

  My jaw clenched. “Yes.”

  “Did you know her?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why did someone kill her?”

  I tapped the door. “Probably because they thought I was in love with her.”