The Devil's Russian Beauty

by Ana Lee Kennedy

  He pulled her skirt up so that it bunched around her waist. “I’ll give you some spending money too,” he said, somehow slicing through the elastic of her panties. “Buy you some pretty bras and panties.”

  With that, he then freed his cock from his jeans, the belt buckle swinging out to graze Daffi’s belly with its cold touch before falling to Ezra’s side. He hiked her up, then settled her on his hard cock, sliding into her in a quick, icy-hot sensation that had Daffi gasping in discomfort mixed with a sexual energy that nearly consumed her with its intensity. She gripped his shoulders as Ezra pumped into her. She waited for the sound he made that sent a frisson of fear through her every time.

  Ezra picked up the pace, thrusting into her so fast and hard that she strained her arms to hold on to him. The iciness of him began its trek through her pussy, up through her passage and into her womb. It continued into her lower abdomen one way as it spread through her ass and into her thighs the other. The pressure of Ezra’s hands on her ass cheeks grew steadily harder until Daffi had to bite her lip to keep from crying out. Most likely she’d have the bruise imprints of his fingers on her butt in the morning.

  He kept pumping into her, then, as she’d feared, he began a low growl that would soon become a noise that could strike fear in anyone or anything within earshot. Jerking her down on his cock, hard, he then turned and walked to the wall that was bare save for a couple of filing cabinets shoved against it. He braced her back against the paneling.

  “I want to hear you scream, Daffodil. Scream like someone is killing you.”

  He thrust. His cock hit her cervix. The cold grew worse. He thrust again, this time so hard the back of her head hit the wall. The iciness crept deeper into her body. He thrust a third time, so forcefully that the paneling creaked behind Daffi’s hips. The cool agony inside her burst into an inferno that simultaneously hurt and pleasured her. The coil within her tightened so fast she didn’t have time to brace herself. Her inner muscles began to clench in a semi-rhythmic pattern.

  “That’s it, my special girl,” Ezra grunted into her ear. “Let me fuck you until you scream.”

  “Ezra…please. I don’t…”

  He began pumping into her like a jackhammer. Each time he rammed into her, her hips impacted the wall. The paneling creaked, Daffi moaned and Ezra’s cock hardened even further. She couldn’t do anything except allow him to pummel her and accept the horrifying cold that steadily spread into her body.

  As the pleasure-pain built within her core, Ezra’s growls transformed into laughter-like screams, as if something from the depths of hell were trying to claw its way out of him and into her. He kept fucking her harder and harder, and suddenly exhausted, she let him have her. He stiffened abruptly, his cock pulsing inside her, bathing her passage in a combination of fire and ice that knifed through her body and pushed her into the weird, all-consuming orgasm that Ezra always evoked in her. Daffi screamed. She screamed in agony. She screamed in pleasure. Daffi screamed until she was hoarse while the orgasm claimed her body, then left a drained husk in its wake.

  “That’s my good girl,” Ezra whispered, pumping the last bit of his cold essence into her.

  She leaned her head back, meeting his now-unholy red, glowing eyes. Horror careened through her, but she was helpless to do anything.

  “That’s my pretty Russian Daffodil.” He withdrew abruptly from her, stepped back and walked away, placing himself back into his jeans and zipping up.

  The floor rose up to meet Daffi. She landed with a thud hard enough to jar her bones, then lay there, spent, drained.

  “Don’t lie there long,” Ezra said. “I have a meeting in about 15 minutes.”

  Tears slipped over her cheeks. An image of the biker she’d seen at McDonald’s rose in her mind’s eye. For the billionth time, she wished things could be different.

  Chapter Three

  Phil toked on his pipe. Puffs of white smoke rose in twirling columns over his head. The aroma of vanilla wafted over to Bernadette. Her dad had smoked a pipe, preferring whiskey tobacco to other blends. She’d sat with Phil for the last hour as he told her about how the dispatcher was a dick with him that day, and she relayed how her mother had freaked when she’d found a salamander in her flower bed early that morning.

  “Puppy heard the screaming and ran over to Mom’s house, thinking someone was hurting her,” Bernadette finished.

  Laughter burst from Phil. “I would have liked to have seen that.”

  They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes. Folks began gathering lawn chairs and blankets as they prepared to turn in for the night. The MC chapter that had arrived that afternoon retired to tents they’d pitched on the flat lawn between the house and the vegetable garden.

  Bernadette thought back on the discussion she’d overheard between Frank and Luella in the laundry room. Maybe she was making more of it than there was. She had a past, had dated a few men, and Frank had surely been with several women besides Luella.

  So why did what she’d overheard still bother her?

  Smoky air gusted from Phil. He puffed hard on the pipe stem, the red embers in the bowl brightening.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  “Nothing.”

  “Don’t tell me that. I have four older brothers, so I know when something is bothering a guy. You all have the same telltale signs.”

  He toked on his pipe some more, the tobacco glowing even redder. “Saw that sweetbutt from Crow’s MC today, the one you got into the scrap with.”

  “So did I.”

  He removed the pipe from his mouth and stared directly at her, the back stoop light casting half his face in blue-white illumination.

  “She works in the auditor’s office,” she explained. “Some sort of data-entry job.” She met Phil’s dark eyes. “What about her?”

  “She’s been branded with the River Rebels’ mark,” he said.

  “Yeah, I noticed.”

  He turned away and sucked viciously on the pipe stem. The clouds he expelled looked as though they were coming from a train’s smokestack.

  “Why does it bother you so much?” she asked.

  “I don’t know.” He kept puffing. “It just fucking does.”

  “Yeah…” She thought about her reaction to the brand when she’d seen it. “It bothered me too. I asked Frank about the branding, and he said it’s not uncommon for one-percenters to mark their sheep like the actual animal.”

  “He’s right.” Phil straightened and leaned his back flat against the door. “Even some lycanthrope MCs do it, but we don’t. Never have. The Werewolves of Rebellion believe women are partners, equals… Hell, in some ways women are stronger than men.”

  “That belief is one of the reasons I fell in love with the people here,” she admitted.

  At that, he offered her a genuine smile, something Phil rarely did. The fact she’d inspired him to smile so big and wide gave her a warm, fuzzy feeling.

  She harbored no ill feelings toward Daffi, which surprised her, but when she started to share that with Phil, something poked at her senses, drawing her attention to the black tree line. There, just to the corner of the garden, the darkness possessed a slight shimmer. She smiled and rose.

  “I’ll be back,” she told Phil. “Scary Mary is here.”

  “Where?”

  She pointed.

  “I know you’re a good person, Bernadette,” he began, “but I have to say that some of the things you’ve been able to do the past three months scare the fucking shit out of me.”

  “Always remember it isn’t wise to piss off a woman,” she countered, “especially a witch.”

  Shock registered on his face, his mouth falling open.

  “Damn, Phil!” She held up one hand in a placating manner. “I’m kidding, jeez!”

  “Thank God,” he mumbled as she walked away. “It’s bad enough to deal with a pissed-off she-wolf.”

  She giggled as she strode toward the shimmering at the yard’s edge, her
feet growing wet from the heavy dew. Upon reaching the area, she called out, “What’s up, Mary?”

  The glittering in the air rippled like water a stone had been tossed into, then Mary’s image solidified. She stepped out of the tree line with a lit clove cigarette between her thick lips, her eyes shining in the lights cast from the house and nearby party lights strung around the back lawn.

  “I have to leave for a couple days,” the African American woman said, her voice gruff but oddly melodious. “We had tomorrow earmarked to work on your latest ability, but something has come up that I need to attend to, so I’ll be back Monday, Tuesday at the latest.”

  “Anything I can help with?” Bernadette asked, disappointment filling her voice. She tried to camouflage it but failed miserably.

  “Aw, honey. Don’t worry. You’ll get those lessons. I’m curious to see how strong your maneuverability power is too.” Mary grinned. “Mine’s pretty strong, but I wager yours will put mine to shame—and no, you can’t help me on this case. It’s more investigation than anything right now, but if I need your help, I’ll ask.”

  “All right.” Relieved Mary wasn’t shutting her out of the matter, Bernadette couldn’t help smiling back at the older woman. Over the last few weeks, they’d developed a close bond, one where Mary had admitted, albeit grudgingly as was her way, that although they hadn’t known each other long, she considered Bernadette to be the daughter she’d never had.

  Mary drew on her hand-rolled fag, then blew out a cloud of spicy-smelling smoke. “Besides, if something does happen to come up, I’ll contact you.”

  “You don’t even own a cell phone,” Bernadette pointed out.

  Throwing back her head, Mary let loose with a loud burst of laughter. “Honey, you’d think you’d realize there are ways of sending messages without technology.”

  Heat crept into her cheeks. “Oh, right.”

  “I’ll let you know when I’m back,” Mary said, waving as she backed into the woods and vanished.

  Bernadette headed back to the house. Halfway there, she paused to remove her flip-flops, which were soaked with condensation. Carrying them with her, she approached the stoop to find Frank sitting with Phil.

  “Hi, babe,” she said. “How’d you do in the horseshoe tournament?”

  “Not bad,” he replied with a smile. “I won a six-pack of Dos Equis. Good thing too, because Ass Crack won’t stay out of mine. Might put him on gate duty to teach him a lesson for drinking all of mine.”

  Phil snorted. “That’ll do it.”

  “Ready to turn in?” Frank asked Bernadette.

  “Yeah.” She looked at Phil. “Thanks for chilling with me this evening.”

  He raised his beer bottle to her. “Any time.”

  Taking her hand, Frank shot Phil a perplexed look that steadily turned suspicious then finally fierce, possessive.

  “Night, Frank,” Phil said.

  Frank looked from Phil to Bernadette, then his expression softened, as if he’d shrugged away a disturbing thought. “Night.”

  Phil scooted to the side so they could go in through the back door. He shut it behind them as they made their way into the living room, where groans and soft cries embarrassed Bernadette. She hid her face in Frank’s side until they reached the base of the stairs. He kept his arm around her waist as they climbed to his room. Once there, he pulled her inside, kicked the door shut and pushed her over to the bed, where he immediately began undressing her.

  He tugged the V-neck T-shirt over her head and tossed it somewhere in the room. Nuzzling her neck, he then unfastened her bra and groaned in approval as her large breasts spilled into his palms. “Damn, I love your tits, baby,” he murmured.

  Gooseflesh ghosted her skin and she giggled softly. “Are you still gonna love them 20 years from now when they’re not so perky?”

  “I’ll love them when they hang to your knees,” he said against her ear.

  “Eew!” She swatted his shoulder with its beautiful wolf ink.

  His answering deep chuckle speared her core. Lord, how she loved to hear him laugh.

  “I’ll even lie under you while you do dishes or laundry so I can suck on them,” he added.

  “Holy shit, Frank!” She swatted him again.

  Laughing harder, he pushed her back on the bed until she lay flat, then set to work removing her capris, then her panties.

  “I love you, Bernadette,” he said. “When are you going to realize I mean it?”

  At that, the worries about what she’d heard in the laundry room faded, then vanished. “I know you do,” she replied, “but images of my boobs drooping to my knees is gross. It makes me want to do a gazillion bench presses.”

  Another deep belly-laugh laugh greeted her as he stood and shucked his clothes. Before she could say anything else, his weight jostled the bed and he wedged a knee between her thighs. Reacting to Frank’s supernatural side, her power simmered under her skin.

  “I want you,” he said. “Right now.”

  “Me too.”

  “Are you sure you’re ready?” he asked.

  “See for yourself.”

  He slipped one hand between her legs and delved his fingers into her folds. She gasped at the sensation, raising her hips to push his fingers deeper.

  “You’re more than ready, aren’t you?” he drawled.

  “Shut up and make love to me.”

  The moonlight spilling through the window revealed his face and chiseled the lines and planes of his body. The sight of him stoked the fire growing in her pussy. “Frank, please.”

  “I love it when you beg,” he said.

  Moving his other knee between her thighs, he settled his body over hers. Bernadette loved the heat and hardness of his form pressing into her, pinning her to the mattress. The head of his cock parted her folds and rested at her opening.

  “Frank, stop teasing—”

  He entered her in one thrust. A cry left her lips, and she rolled her head back, arching her chest and simultaneously hooking her heels over the backs of his thighs.

  “Ungh!” He stilled as he got a grip on himself. “Sweetheart, the things you do to me…”

  The spring deep in her core steadily tightened as he pushed into her all the way to his base, his cock nudging her cervix, the girth of him unexpected but pleasurable. She waited for her body to adjust to the intrusion. His heart beat so rapidly that it vibrated her breasts. Already she wanted to come, the full feeling so wonderful that she knew if she moved, she’d be lost.

  “I love how you respond to me,” he whispered. “You’re already starting to spasm. Fuck, you fit me like a glove, baby.”

  His words spurred her onward. Before he could thrust, she pumped her hips once, twice, three times and the coil within her broke. The rippling and clenching in her passage shot ecstasy through her loins, into her lower belly, and tingled through her pussy. Frank grunted as she climaxed, his breathing rapid and heavy. Spent, she slowly came down from her high only to have him begin thrusting in earnest. She tightened her heels behind his thighs and clasped him around his flanks, urging one of his delicious lycanthrope growls from deep within him. He pumped harder, scooting her up the mattress with his thrusts, the thin blankets bunching around her shoulders. Still, he plunged into her until they reached the top of the bed, where she knew from countless times before that she had to hold on or he’d bang her skull off the headboard.

  He tucked his face in her neck and kept pounding into her. Soon, that deep spot within Bernadette tightened and pulsed again. Frank kept fucking her until all she could do was hang on and let him have total control as her body responded, reaching for that beautiful leaping point. Finally, he stiffened and his cock pulsed for a long moment. Heat bathed her insides, then she shattered, yelling and jerking with the intensity of a second orgasm until she finally buried her face in the pillows next to her and screamed louder as the sensations overwhelmed her body. After a long moment, she relaxed and lay gasping for air as little aftershocks ran
through her pussy and into her inner thighs.

  “Mine,” Frank said.

  “Yours,” she gasped.

  He rolled off her and spooned her ass, laying one heavy arm over her hip.

  “I love you,” she whispered.

  Behind her, Frank’s breathing rapidly deepened, then sleep claimed Bernadette too.

  * * *

  The screams brought Bernadette out of a sound sleep. Heart flailing, she sat straight up and reached for Frank, who had already leaped out of the bed and stood naked in the moonlight. The screams continued, and finally she pinpointed the source of the sound—the backyard. More shouts from the chapter campsite erupted in the night, followed by more screams and crying.

  Frank strode over to the window and peered out. “I can’t see much of anything.” He stepped over to the foot of the bed, scooped up his jeans and jerked them on. “Stay here.”

  Bare-chested and barefoot, he left the room. Before he shut the door, Bernadette caught sight of several members rushing past it on their way downstairs. She threw back the covers and rushed to the window. The light from the stoop flooded the backyard to the first small tent. Bernadette had seen the biker set it up earlier that evening. He’d been the only single guy to travel here with the chapter. Several of his fellow riders stood around the tent. A flashlight glowed inside it.

  Frank rushed out the back door, the light revealing his tattooed shoulder and sleeves in vivid color.

  “Tony’s dead, Frank!” a guy cried. “He’s… he’s… Fuck, someone drained the life out of him.”

  As a cool wind wafted up from the pond to caress her face, Bernadette bit her lip. Something was dreadfully wrong. Something that awoke her power, forcing it to rise so fiercely that she fought the urge to vomit.

  Evil.

  * * *

  Phil backed out of the tent and staggered away from it, his mind reeling at what he’d just seen and his guts knotting so that he fought not to puke. He met Erica’s eyes, and she nodded to him, once. Erica had found Tony Edwards. Phil liked Erica Smithy. She was one of the MC’s newest sweetbutts, a pretty, good-natured, tiny thing who worked in the office of the local grocery store. She’d moved here with her mother, who had passed away recently. She’d gotten to know a few of the single women at the MC and had decided she liked it and their little community, so she’d gradually become a member. She seemed to have a big appetite for sex, always showing up on sweetbutt nights, but the young guys loved her, so it worked out.