You Don't Own Me: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance (The Russian Don Book 2)

by Georgia Le Carre

  I look at Noah and very nearly laugh. For a second his face is a classic picture of shit-what-the-fuck-do-I-do-now? But I have to hand it to these Russians. They really are closed books, by closed what I mean is super-glued shut.

  With a totally straight face Noah says, ‘It’s my fault. We had a short circuit earlier, the electrics tripped, and I forgot to switch the lights back on.’

  ‘I’ll go and turn them back on,’ he offers.

  Zane visibly relaxes. His hand uncurls around my arm. ‘No, it’s OK. You can leave now. Thanks.’

  Even though he has been reassured, he does not let me go in first. ‘Wait here,’ he says and opens the door. He goes in, switches on the light, and in a flash all his staff jump out from the hiding places and scream ‘Happy Birthday.’

  Zane freezes, frowns, shakes his head as if in disbelief, then looks at me with a confused expression. ‘You did this?’

  ‘S-DYNOM va-RYEN’-ya!’ I yell. Olga taught it to me: Happy birthday in playful Russian. Russian is apparently not like English. There is also the serious version. I hope I pronounced it right.

  Zane lips curve with amusement, which means I obviously didn’t.

  Then Olga brings the cake with all the candles towards us. It has intricate black candy melt mesh and is decorated with lots of fresh strawberries on top. Music starts and everybody sings the Russian birthday song. It has the kind of beat that I associate with Zorba the Greek. Zane just stares at everybody with a slightly dazed expression. I can see that he is totally floored at being ambushed in this way. The song stops and everybody claps.

  ‘Za-ga-DAT-zhi-LA-nee-ya,’ Olga says. I know she is telling him to make a wish.

  His eyes dart towards me. I smile widely at him. He takes a deep breath and blows out the candles in one puff. Everybody cheers and claps. Glasses of vodka are produced and passed around. One quickly finds its way into my hand.

  Noah shouts out a strange thing, ‘Ah, the cake is bitter.’

  I look at him in surprise. What the hell is he talking about? The cake has not even been cut. Zane turns to look at me.

  ‘What?’ I ask looking around because everybody is looking at me with a teasing expression.

  ‘It’s an ancient Russian custom. Your guests are asking you to make it sweeter with a long sweet kiss.’

  I pass my glass to Nico, the boy who feeds the birds, and smile cheekily at him. ‘I’m game if you are.’

  Zane sweeps me into his arms in a grand and dramatic gesture dips me back over his arm. ‘Don’t drop me,’ I laugh.

  Then he starts kissing me. I imagined it would be a quick peck or a little comedy kiss to entertain the crowd, but our lips lock, and to my surprise everybody starts counting the seconds off.

  One, Two, Three …

  After the count of five I stop hearing their voices. My mouth opens. The kiss becomes magical, like a kiss from a fantasy. I’ve never been kissed so passionately in front of so many people. There is so much emotion in the kiss, the world around me becomes an indistinct blur and finally ceases to exist all together. There is no one else but Zane and I.

  I could have remained in that beautiful fantasyland forever, but Zane lifts his head and rights me. Everybody stops counting and raises their glasses in a toast. For a few seconds Zane’s eyes are dark with passion then he takes a deep breath, his nostrils flaring, and straightening me, turns to face everybody. My knees feel like jelly. Oh, God, please don’t let that kiss and that look be only a stolen moment.

  ‘Osvezhit,’ Noah says.

  ‘That means refresh,’ Zane translates for me.

  Our glasses are quickly refilled.

  The next toast is by Yuri and literally translates as no long breaks between the first and second toasts.

  ‘Because we Russians don’t allow long breaks between toasts,’ Zane explains and everyone downs the second lot of alcohol.

  More vodka is poured. Olga is already starting to look red-cheeked.

  ‘Nu, poneslis,’ everyone yells, and down the hatch the vodka goes.

  ‘Here we go again,’ Zane translates for me.

  ‘How many more toasts are there going to be?’ I ask, feeling the burn in my veins.

  ‘We cut the cake now,’ Olga says. She cuts the cake and puts the slice on a little plate and offers it to me.

  ‘First one is for the birthday boy,’ she says.

  I break off a piece and put it into his mouth. He catches my fingers and licks them. Around us the staff are milling about eating cake and helping themselves to all the delicious goodies Olga has made. I look into Zane’s eyes and all I want to do is tell him I love him, but I can’t. I know it’s too soon.

  More glasses of vodka are passed around. ‘To the beautiful women in this room,’ Zane says looking into my eyes.

  I know that it is probably just another Russian custom because all the men are echoing it in Russian, but for some crazy reason I blush with pure pleasure. The vodka is going to my head and I really should stop or I’ll ruin all my plans.

  I fork a bit of crabmeat salad into my mouth and watch Zane surrounded by his staff. They treat him the way people who have suddenly discovered a lion is tame do. They try to touch it, but carefully, and with great caution. There are many birthday cards for Zane, but I notice that nobody has bought him anything. I guess they had the same problem as me, but can’t buy him a masturbator like I did. After about an hour Zane calls the last toast.

  ‘Na pososhok,’ he says, and everybody drinks the last drink.

  He takes my hand and we leave them to carry on drinking. When the door closes he looks down at me. ‘So you threw me a surprise party, huh? How very American of you?’

  I grin. ‘An American party with vodka, Russian toasts, and strawberry cake?’

  ‘So … who told you it was my birthday?’

  ‘Er … I’m not really at liberty to say.’

  ‘Olga then.’

  ‘I’m not saying.’

  He grins. ‘I might want to give her a raise.’

  ‘Do you really?’

  He shrugs. ‘Maybe.’

  ‘You’ll have to promise that you will before I consent to reveal my source,’ I say sternly.

  ‘You’ve already revealed your source, silly dove.’ He musses my hair. ‘Thank you. I haven’t had a birthday party since I was twelve.’

  ‘Wow! Why?’

  A cloud passes across his face. ‘That’s a story for another day,’ he says.

  I don’t let that cloud rain on my parade. I smile seductively. ‘I’ve got one more surprise for you.’

  ‘Oh yeah?’ he asks cockily.

  Fourteen

  Dahlia Fury

  Have some candy.

  -King Candy

  ‘Oh yeah,’ I say, and take him upstairs to his room. I open the door and find the two girls have had time to slip upstairs after the cake was cut and light more than a hundred candles. The flames are flickering and dancing all over the floor, on the bedside table, the dresser, the windowsill. The candles on the floor are arranged to make a clear path towards the bed. I turn around to look at him and he is gazing around the room with a bemused expression. I lead him to the bed and placing both my hands on his chest push him. He falls back on the bed and looks up at me.

  In the yellow flickering light of the candles he is as beautiful as a fallen angel or a wonderful marble statue. The aquiline nose and strong jaw are like something a Renaissance stonecutter might have spent years sculpting in his drafty studio.

  ‘I come bearing gifts,’ I say to him.

  His eyebrows rise. ‘You’re the gift, babe.’

  I giggle. ‘No, you’ll like this one, and I want you to know that I didn’t use your credit card to get these, OK?’

  ‘OK,’ he says almost warily, and sits up.

  I reach out and take the two packages covered in silver wrapping paper. I sit on the bed and give them to him. He shakes it and the little Star Wars flash drives rattle in their box.

  ‘
Go on open it,’ I urge.

  He tears the wrapping paper and opens the box. ‘You got me toys?’ he asks incredulously.

  ‘They’re not toys. They’re flash drives.’ I take Chewbacca from the box. ‘See, pull it apart and there you go.’

  ‘Right. Great. Thanks,’ he says.

  That didn’t go down too well. Maybe Star Wars flash drives are really a Star Wars fans sort of thing. Never mind. Luckily I got the male masturbator. ‘Now open the other one,’ I say, holding that out to him.

  He takes it, opens the packaging, and looks up at me with even more incredulity than he had shown when he thought I had given him toys. ‘You got me a male masturbator?’

  ‘Yeah, and the lubricant that goes with it. You insert your dick in here,’ I say pointing to the hole in the gadget.

  ‘Of course,’ he says dryly.

  His lack of enthusiasm is perplexing. I think it’s a great present. ‘Don’t tell me you already own one?’

  ‘No,’ he denies quickly.

  I switch it on. It makes a gentle whirling sound as all the little fingers in the hole start their massaging movements. ‘Don’t you think it is fun?’

  He switches it off firmly. ‘Sure, but I’d rather insert my dick into you.’

  ‘This is for when I’m not around,’ I say softly.

  He turns away, puts the presents on the bedside cabinet, and leans back against the pillows. ‘Since you’re around now. Give me my real present.’

  My mouth goes dry with the sexual heat in his eyes. Our bodies seem to pull at each other. He wants me so bad I can feel it like an invisible, powerful magnet. In that moment I feel powerful and strong. Smiling provocatively, I stand and slowly and deliberately start unzipping my dress. It pools around my high heels and I am standing in my chemise with its horizontal slashes all the way down the middle. His eyes drift from the slit exposing the round fullness of my breasts down to the one that reveals my pussy.

  ‘Jesus, Dahlia!’ he mouths. ‘You’re pure woman. Every inch of you is just such a fucking turn on.’

  I snake my hands above my head, whirl slowly around, and pushing my butt out gyrate my hip sensuously. I can feel my bare ass rubbing against the laces running across it. I swivel my head back to look at him. His eyes are entranced, lost, staring at the soft, wet flesh between the diamond-shaped gap at the top of my thighs. He lifts his gaze up to meet mine.

  ‘Tell me what you want, Aleksandr Malenkov?’ I ask softly. ‘The spirits I have consumed have made me daring, so tonight I’ll do anything you want me to.’

  His eyebrows rise. ‘Anything?’

  I turn around. ‘Any … fucking … thing.’

  ‘I’ll have to take a rain check on any … fucking … thing, cause tonight I only want your tight, wet cunt fucking my cock in that dress.’

  Crouching down, I take off his shoes and socks, and drop them on the floor before climbing on the bed and crawling in my stripper shoes over to him. Holding his eyes I unbuckle his belt, undo his trouser button, and pull down the zip. His cock is so hard it pokes out of his underpants. Urgently he lifts his hips so I can slide his pants out from under him. I peel his briefs down his hips and his dick springs free. I pull the material down his legs and sit on his thighs, inches away from his throbbing cock. Unhurriedly I unbutton his shirt. He lifts off the bed and, rising to my knees, I take off his shirt to reveal his nudity.

  I can’t take my eyes away from his glorious body.

  It’s not that I want to stare. I simply can’t stop myself. No matter how many times I look at him, the sight makes me want to lick him all over. His inked chest moves up and down with the rhythm of his breath. It makes me crazy for him. I want to crawl into his skin. I move my wet pussy over his cock, grazing it.

  ‘Touch yourself,’ he says thickly.

  I spread my legs wider and stroke my swollen clit. I plunge a finger in and moan, ‘I want you inside me.’

  He reaches forward and pulls my dress so it is bunched up around my waist.

  ‘Sit on my cock. I want to see my cock disappear into your body.’

  I grasp the thick shaft, point his cock at my slick opening and thrust down. The sensation of being so suddenly penetrated and stretched so full makes my body arch. His cock jumps inside me.

  ‘All the way,’ he commands.

  I slide down that thick shaft until I feel the hard muscle of his thighs. Then I lean forward so my throbbing clit is touching his pubic bone and grind my pussy on it. The sensation is amazing. I love it. I move faster and faster, sliding up and down that glorious shaft of hard meat.

  When I feel the ecstasy begin, I ride him as hard as I can, my thighs quivering, juices squirting out of me. There is no stopping me now. My pussy clenches, my skin starts tingling. Let him fuck me until he understands that I am his. Mind, body and soul.

  But without warning he grabs my waist and pulls me clear off his cock.

  ‘Nooooo,’ I protest, but he lifts me off his body.

  ‘I want you to sit on my face and move your wet cunt all over it. I want to eat you out until you come,’ he growls, and holding my pussy suspended over his face, he inhales my aroma as if it is heady perfume.

  I drip onto his tongue.

  ‘This pussy is mine,’ he mutters and lowers me onto his mouth. First he swipes his silky tongue along the entire pulsing crack to lick up all my juices, and then he starts lapping at my pussy just like a thirsty dog. My head is thrown back and my body arches and twists against his mouth. Gripping my hips he fucks me with his tongue. Then he-oh fuck-sucks my clit into his mouth until I am screaming. Just screaming.

  I ride out my orgasm grinding into his face and yelling out his name. My juices gushing into his mouth, and running down his face and neck. He grabs my ass cheeks and keeps on sucking, fucking, and licking my pussy, forcing me to come again. And again. My muscles are still shaking and convulsing, and his face and hair are soaked and glistening in the candlelight when he moves abruptly. He rolls me to my side, gets on top of me and, opening my legs wide, plunges into my hot flesh.

  ‘Oh yes,’ I cry. ‘Take me hard, Zane.’

  ‘Like this?’ He grabs my wrists and, holding them high over my head, slams even harder into me.

  ‘Fuck yes,’ I whimper.

  ‘And this?’ he says thrusting savagely into me. To my astonishment I can feel myself starting to climax again.

  My mouth opens in a gasp. ‘I can’t control myself,’ I burst. ‘I’m going to come all over your cock.’

  ‘No,’ he says, slowing his movement down. ‘You’ll come when I tell you to come.’

  My body jerks spasmodically and my head turns from side to side in desperation. ‘I’m gonna come, Zane. Sorry. I just can’t hold on.’

  He pulls his cockhead clear out of me, waits for a second, then rams back inside. Burying himself to the hilt. Like a greedy thing my pussy pushes upwards to meet the thrust.

  ‘Fuck, baby. I’ve got to come. You gotta let me come,’ I beg.

  ‘Not yet. This is my pussy. Mine. I’ll decide when she comes.’

  He bends his head and bites my nipple. The pain brings me back from the edge. He licks the throbbing tip rapidly and a gloriously warm sensation spreads out from that nipple into the rest of my body.

  I grip his erection tightly.

  ‘You’re so damn tight,’ he shudders, as he starts slamming and pounding into me with a real frenzy, grunting, chasing his release. Every time his body touches my clit, I squirm, coil and writhe like a cut snake underneath him. I am holding on to my own release by my fingernails, waiting for him to say, ‘yes, let go.’

  He rides me until the muscles of his shoulders and neck begin to strain, and there it is, the permission to come.

  ‘Come now,’ he orders … and instantly I come. Excruciatingly. Laid bare. Raw. Wild. Naked. Exposed. My heart wide open.

  He is still exploding inside me when I whisper, ‘I love you.’

  He gazes down at me as my shuddering pussy mil
ks the last drops, the very last seed out of his cock.

  Something in his eyes. They can’t look into mine. He heard me.

  I capture his chin and wait until his gaze meets mine. ‘It’s OK. You don’t have to say it back.’

  He stares at me and I wonder what horror has brought such sorrow into his eyes. Then he bends his head and takes my lips. The kiss is so full of soul and tenderness that suddenly I know.

  His body is telling me what his tongue cannot say.

  Fifteen

  Aleksandr Malenkov

  Mama comes to help me stand up.

  ‘I’m all right,’ I tell her.

  ‘Shall I get you some tea?’ she asks.

  ‘No, I’m fine.’

  I look at her. Her face is white. How the years have changed her. She has become more and more silent. Her spirit is broken. He broke her spirit.

  ‘Mama, why don’t we run away?’

  Her lips tremble. She presses them together. ‘There is nowhere to go. I have no money,’ she says.

  ‘I can work. I’m old enough.’

  ‘You’re twelve.’

  ‘I can fight for money. I can beat grown men.’

  She grasps both my hands together and shakes her head vigorously and fixes me with a desperate stare. ‘No. You will not fight. You will go to school. You will study and you will become something special. I’m all right. If only you wouldn’t interfere when we argue, my precious son.’

  ‘I’ll never let him hurt you,’ I say angrily.

  ‘He doesn’t hurt me. A few punches. Nothing serious. These things happen between adults.’

  ‘I hate him,’ I mutter.

  ‘Hush. Don’t ever say that,’ she says sadly.

  ‘Why not? He is horrible.’

  ‘I will always be grateful to him.’

  I stare at her in disbelief. ‘Why?’

  ‘Because he gave me you.’

  I close my eyes in despair.

  ‘And because he has no one else. When he was well, before that trauma to his brain, before that bullet lodged in his head he was a good man. A really good man and I promised to stay with him through sickness and health. So now that he is ill, and he is ill, Aleksandr, it is an illness, I can’t abandon him just like that. I made a promise to be loyal to him and I can’t break it.’ She smooths my hair away from my forehead and kisses me gently.