Sasha & Andriena #1 (Lovers & Sinners)

by Marita A. Hansen

  “Which is precisely why I want him dead. He’s already refused to talk to me, treating me as though I’m a vile creature.”

  “Because you are one!” Her hand whipped to her mouth, fear replacing her anger. “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to say that. Please don’t hurt my famiglia. They’re innocent.”

  The Black Russian narrowed his eyes at her. “Place the gun to your head and pull the trigger.”

  Andriena’s face fell. “I apologized.”

  “I don’t accept it. So, do as you’re told.”

  “Please give me a choice.”

  “You lost your chance to choose your destiny when you lost your temper with me.”

  “I didn’t mean to. So, please, I beg of you, let me choose and I promise I’ll rein in my temper.”

  “Okay, put the gun to your head or lie on the bed...”

  She went for the bed.

  “You didn’t let me finish.”

  She stopped.

  “If you lie down, you’ll be skinned alive.”

  “What?” she gasped.

  “I have a client who would love to wear your skin.” The Black Russian raised a pale eyebrow. “Is that a good enough choice for you?”

  She didn’t move, her face petrified.

  Sasha went to her. “There’s only one bullet in the gun and six chambers.”

  “You pulled the trigger,” she replied, “so that leaves five chambers.”

  “The odds are still in your favor, and regardless of the outcome, it’s the lesser of two evils.”

  “I know.” Looking distraught, she turned back to the table.

  Sasha watched as she picked up the gun. He didn’t understand why she was affecting him, because, despite being attracted to her, he didn’t like her.

  She raised the gun to her head. Her gaze moved to Sasha, latching onto him as though he was the only thing stopping her from breaking down. He nodded. She exhaled loudly, then pulled the trigger.

  ***

  The gun went off, the Donatelli soldier shooting Yuri in the back of the head. Sasha screamed and lunged for his brother as Yuri collapsed. But the D’Angelo guard grabbed him, holding him back from being shot too. He started wailing, the pain within him unbearable. His brother was only a few feet away from him, lying face down next to the other dead Russian guards. They’d been shot in cold blood after the Donatelli soldiers had forced them to surrender. The heads of the Donatelli syndicate had attended a dinner with the Sicilian family Sasha and his men were meant to protect, giving the impression they were there to end a feud. But instead, they’d seized the house, carrying out a calculated attack that Sasha couldn’t have foreseen.

  The Donatelli soldiers forced Sasha into the cell behind them, locking him in with the D’Angelo Don and his guard. The two men tried to console him, but he couldn’t take in their words, his mind too overwhelmed by Yuri’s murder. Instead, he cried out to God, praying for the Lord to bring his brother back and take him instead. Yuri deserved to live more than he did. His brother was a good person—unlike Sasha. He’d done horrific things in the name of the Black Russian, things he needed to be punished for.

  But his prayers went unanswered, causing his mind to fracture. As a result, he started doing things without thought, his body going into autopilot. Yells soon followed, more deaths mounting, but this time by his hands. He’d attacked some Donatelli soldiers when they’d entered the cell. He broke one’s neck, then bashed the other’s head against the concrete floor. Eventually, some soldiers subdued him, forcibly dragging him out of the cell. They beat him, then threw him into the back of a van. He fell in and out of consciousness, waking up fully after arriving at their destination—a place even Hell couldn’t compete with...

  The House of Whores.

  Inside the large mansion, dead-eyed women lay on beds, waiting to be used by men, their prostitution forced upon them. Then there were the cells below, where male cries of agony split the air. The soldiers had dragged him into one of those cells. It was dark, with chains and ropes hanging from the walls. There were also instruments of torture lining a table, ready to be used on him.

  As they attached him to the wall, someone screamed out for mercy in an adjoining cell—an ominous precursor to the suffering Sasha would have to endure. And he did suffer, far too much for any one person to handle. Over the following days, the Donatelli tortured him until his throat went hoarse from screaming. At one point he thought he’d died, because he started to see things. Ghosts. Ghouls. Creatures that belonged in Hell. Or maybe those creatures had broken out, coming to a place more deserving of the name.

  Then the torture grew worse, but not physical in nature, the soldiers changing tactics. The sick bastards started bringing him the heads of his fellow guards, the ones they’d shot in the D’Angelo house. They shoved his comrade’s decaying faces in front of his. He’d sobbed at the sight, unable to hold in the pain of seeing what had happened to his friends. He’d known them since he was twelve, grown up with them. They were his brotherhood—the Bratva. Yet, the Donatelli had reduced them to horror shows so they could torment him even more.

  The Donatelli soldiers had laughed at his anguish, not realizing they could’ve destroyed him completely by showing him his baby brother. But they never brought Yuri’s head...

  His only saving grace.

  9

  ANDRIENA

  The gun clicked, but nothing fired, no bullet in the chamber. Andriena cried out, an avalanche of relief flooding her, so overwhelming she felt like collapsing, but instead she lowered the gun. Keeping her focus on Sasha, she placed it on the table, more than grateful for his support. He’d gotten her through it, stopped her from crumbling in upon herself, the man not as heartless as he made himself out to be.

  “Well, I guess I have to wait longer to see you die, Andriena,” the Black Russian said, drawing her attention back to him. “But since you did what I asked, I will reward you. Remove Sasha’s shirt. His body will please you very much.” When she didn’t move straight away, he flicked his hand. “Hurry up, I know you like his body.”

  Keeping her eyes downcast, she walked over to Sasha and took hold of his shirt. Instead of resisting, he lifted his arms. She glanced up, seeing him staring down at her. His gray eyes once more looked silver under the fluorescent light, but even more so than before, the black of his pupils no longer swamping them. Again, it made him look supernatural, like one of the heroes in her paranormal novels. The Black Russian said something, but she didn’t hear what it was, Sasha’s silver eyes captivating her.

  “Remove my shirt,” Sasha said, snapping her out of the stare.

  Feeling stupid, she quickly lifted his shirt over his head, revealing an amazing body. Her eyes went to his stomach, the curves and grooves of his abs well-defined. She swallowed and looked back up at his eyes, finding him staring down at her breasts. She panted out a breath, his stare making her hot.

  “My Nikita showed me the video of you drunk,” the Black Russian said, slicing through her thoughts. “It was very comical, especially when you spanked Sasha.”

  Andriena dropped her gaze again, embarrassed he’d brought that up.

  “Did you enjoying touching his ass?”

  “I don’t remember,” she croaked out.

  “Then, do it again, just without his briefs on. Turn around, Sasha, so she can remove them, unless you want her to pull the trigger again.”

  Andriena glanced up, seeing Sasha glowering at the Black Russian.

  His master smiled back, the corner of his smirk getting lost in a tattoo, so dark and evil like the man himself. “Hurry up,” he said, adding something else in Russian.

  Sasha tensed, every muscle in his body standing out. It looked like he wanted to propel himself at the Black Russian. To smash through the window and rip his master’s heart out, that’s if he even had one, because Andriena was sure nothing beat inside the psycho’s chest.

  But instead of losing his temper, Sasha spun around, facing away from her
so she could pull his briefs down. Andriena stepped in closer and placed her hands on his hips. He flinched, as though her touch revolted him. She shook the thought out of her head, knowing it didn’t, because the way he’d touched her before, embracing her in his arms as he’d sucked on her breast... She breathed out. It had held nothing but desire. Obviously, he was acting this way because he was humiliated, and she couldn’t blame him, because she’d felt the same when he’d removed her bra.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered, then lowered his briefs, freezing at what she saw, the shock stealing her breath away.

  “What’s written on his ass, Andriena?” the Black Russian asked.

  Carved deep in his flesh were the words puttano—whore. Her head snapped up, her eyes going to the evil son of a bitch behind the window, the bastard looking pleased with himself.

  “It says puttano and it’s not written!” she yelled. “It’s carved in there. How could you do that?!”

  The Black Russian made a derisive sound. “It’s written in Italian, you stupid woman. If I carved it in there it would be in Russian. Now, tell me what it means?”

  “Whore. A male one.”

  “Sasha, tell her who carved that into your ass.”

  She turned her head to him. He was still facing away from her, his body like stone, frozen in place.

  “Sasha,” the Black Russian said, sounding like he was taunting him.

  Sasha stepped out of his briefs, then slowly turned around with his hands covering his cock and balls. He didn’t look at her. His eyes were fixed firmly on his master, their silver cast holding a deep-seated hatred. “A Donatelli soldier,” he answered.

  Andriena inhaled sharply, her family name hitting her.

  “Tell her why, Sasha,” the Black Russian said.

  Sasha kept his gaze trained on him. “I was captured by the Donatelli and...” he hesitated, sounding like he didn’t want to say the next words.

  “Continue,” the Black Russian pressed on.

  “Tortured.”

  “That describes part of what happened. Now, what’s the word that relates to that scar?”

  “It was still torture.”

  “Say what you know I want to hear or shoot Andriena.”

  Sasha’s face twisted with rage. “They raped me! Is that what you fucking wanted to hear, you bastard!”

  Andriena staggered back, what he’d said shocking her, although it shouldn’t have, because she knew her family was bad... no, many of them were evil, what Sasha had said proving it.

  “It’s true, Andriena,” the Black Russian said. “The D’Angelo family rescued him from a place called the House of Whores, which was run by your family.”

  She looked at Sasha, still seeing shame on his face, but much more intense. But he had nothing to be ashamed of ... she did ... because it was her family who’d done the unspeakable. Now it made sense why he was so uptight about anything sexual.

  Her family had made him that way. And she’d made things worse by continually pushing him.

  “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know,” she said. “Please forgive me, Sasha.”

  He shook his head. “You have nothing to apologize for. You didn’t do this to me. You’re as much a victim of your family as I am. So dry your eyes, you’re guilt free.”

  The Black Russian tapped the viewing-window, drawing Sasha’s attention back to him. “Show her what else was done to you. Remove your hands from your groin.”

  “You did that to me, not the Donatelli!” Sasha yelled.

  “I know, but it’s so beautiful I want her to see it.”

  Sasha stalked over to the window and held his hands out. “This isn’t beautiful, it’s hideous!” he hollered, facing away from Andriena.

  The Black Russian’s gaze lowered down Sasha. His grin widened, reminding Andriena of the Joker’s warped smile. “You’re wrong; it’s one of my masterpieces.” His gaze drifted back up Sasha’s body, his eyes dancing with malicious intent. “Show Andriena, and make sure to lift up that lovely cock of yours. I don’t want it hindering her view.” When Sasha didn’t move, he indicated with his knife. “Hurry up, unless you want the other one removed.”

  Sasha turned to face Andriena. Her gaze dropped to his groin, her eyes widening with horror. One of his balls was gone. There was a thick red scar where it should have been. It looked like it had been hacked off, his other ball hanging solo.

  Andriena’s focus shifted to Sasha’s face. She thought he’d looked ashamed before, but that was nothing in comparison to now. From his wounded eyes to his tight grimace, even the strained muscles in his neck, he looked like he wanted to disappear from existence, to have something swallow him up so he didn’t have to stand before her, showing her what was no doubt his greatest humiliation. He was also shaking, but not from fear. A cocktail of anger and shame undoubtedly was behind it, and probably the vicious memory of what had been done to him.

  “Sasha screamed when I removed his ball,” the Black Russian said, his voice filled with a twisted sense of pride. “Warranted, I didn’t give him pain relief, just had my guards hold him down while I removed it—”

  “You’re sick!” Andriena spat, cutting him off. She wished she had a knife in her hand so she could hear him scream as she hacked his ball off.

  He did that joker smile again, looking just as crazy as the comic book villain. “It’s called eccentric when one’s rich. By the way, do you want to see the removed ball? I have it preserved in a jar.”

  “No!” she yelled in disbelief, thinking no one could be this warped. He wasn’t just psychotic, he was a monster dressed in human form.

  “Each to their own. Now, whose turn is it to choose between the gun and fun?” His gaze moved back to Sasha. “I think it’s yours.”

  “I’ll take his turn,” Andriena blurted out, not wanting the bastard to force Sasha to do a thing.

  The Black Russian raised an eyebrow. “Keen to play now?”

  “The gun will be pointed at me either way.”

  “It’s still Sasha’s turn, so how about we just cut to the chase, because I’m sure he’ll choose to remove your panties rather than shoot you.” He flicked a hand. “Go on, Sasha, it’s your turn to see some ass.”

  Still appearing ashamed, Sasha went to her.

  “You have nothing to be ashamed of,” Andriena said, staring him in the eyes. “Only the Black Russian should be ashamed.”

  “Well, I’m not,” the Black Russian replied. “I’m very proud of what I did.”

  “Because you’re sick!”

  “While you’re repetitive.” He flicked a hand. “So hurry up, Sasha, play my game or see Andriena suffer the consequences.”

  Sasha’s gaze went to her panties.

  She took his hands and placed them on her hips. “I give you permission.”

  “He doesn’t need your permission,” the Black Russian interrupted. “He’ll do it because I ordered him to. Sasha, remove her panties and do it on your knees.”

  Sasha took hold of her panties and lowered himself to his knees, slipping them down Andriena’s legs, his face inches from her pussy. Instinctively, she placed her hands over it.

  “Uncover yourself, Andriena,” the Black Russian said. “You have nothing to be ashamed of—unlike Sasha.”

  “I don’t know how you can sleep at night,” she hissed.

  “Exquisitely well, thank you very much. And unlike, Sasha, you’re starting to bore me. Albeit your erratic outbursts, you’re not a very interesting character.”

  “I’m not a character, I’m a person!”

  “Who shouts too much. At least when Sasha shouts he gives me the shivers. His voice is pure porn, while yours hurts my ears. I can see why your uncle sold you, just a pity I can’t return you and get my money back. A cent spent on you was a waste, least of all millions. Anyway, rise, Sasha.”

  Sasha rose up before her, his naked body tantalizingly close, the both of them now stripped bare by the Black Russian’s will.

  “Kn
eel in front of him, Andriena.”

  She lowered herself to her knees, her gaze instantly locking onto Sasha’s crotch. Sasha shifted his hands over it, mirroring what she’d done.

  “Remove his hands, Andriena,” the Black Russian said. “I want you to give him a blowjob.”

  Sasha shot away from her. “She’s not sucking me! You said you’d turn me into a eunuch if I had sex with another woman.”

  “According to President Clinton, blowjobs aren’t sex,” the Black Russian smiled.

  “So, I’m allowed one?” Sasha asked.

  “I feel rather insulted that you actually look hopeful, Sasha. I’ve offered to blow you, yet you always turn me down.”

  “How many times do I have to tell you I like women?”

  “Several hundred times more. Though, why do you look like you want a blowjob desperately? After all, I’ll be watching.”

  Sasha didn’t reply, his expression once more uncomfortable.

  The Black Russian remained silent too, his pale blue gaze now fixated on Sasha. He was staring at him as though he was searching his mind, trying to find out what he was thinking. “Did your ex ever give you a blowjob?” he finally asked.

  Sasha shook his head.

  The Black Russian’s eyebrows shot up. “So, you’ve never had a woman suck on your cock?”

  Sasha nodded, his cheeks lighting up again.

  The Black Russian snorted, sounding surprised. “Well, I didn’t expect this, but then again, your ex was rather a selfish woman. I bet she got you to get her off, but didn’t return the favor.”

  Sasha remained silent, his clenched hands telling Andriena he was holding back a torrent of abuse.

  The Black Russian continued, “So, will you allow Andriena to blow you?”

  “As long as she’s willing and I get to keep my remaining ball,” Sasha replied.

  “In this instance I’ll allow it, so say thank you.”

  Sasha’s eyes moved back to Andriena. “Not until she gives me permission.”

  “She should be happy to fill her mouth with your cock, Sasha, especially since the other option would be to fill her head with lead.” The Black Russian’s attention shifted to Andriena. “So, a mouth full of cock or a head full of lead?”