Taken by the Russian

by Alexa Riley

  Her eyebrows draw together. “Why?” The confusion flees from her expression. “Oh.”

  “Yes. Oh.” Feeling ready to snap, I crook my index finger at her. “Come. I will strip you on the way.”

  A stubborn light goes on in her eyes. “No.”

  Inside my pants, hot cum leaks from the tip of my dick, dripping down my thigh. “I can wait no longer to fuck you, Anya.” I don’t realize I’ve moved closer until she’s covered in my shadow and I’m looming above her where she reclines on the lawn. “I’ve controlled myself for five years and it has taken a toll.”

  With each shallow breath, her tits swell further over the neckline of her tank top. “You don’t get to decide everything. Where I live. How I spend my future.” She lets her thighs fall open. “Where you take me the first time.”

  I drop to my knees with a bellow, fists shaking at my sides. “I was to breed you in our marriage bed, angel.”

  She falls back on the grass and lifts her skirt, baring her drenched panties to me. “Oops.”

  Chapter Seven

  Anya

  So this is what power feels like.

  Did I really have it all this time without knowing?

  Well, I’m going to wield it now, so look out. A lot of this empowerment is seeing the evidence of how much Sasha needs me. My Russian is a man of cold control, but right now, he’s the furthest thing from his usual self. The gray of his eyes is blocked out by the black of his dilated pupils, the veins in his neck seem to pulse. He’s whipping off his coat and shirt while staring me down like a lion over a lamb…and maybe I should be afraid. There is dangerous intention written all over him and it’s unfamiliar.

  But I know he would never, ever hurt me. This man who would care for me through the rockiest periods of my life. This man who would build me a house because of my love for a book would die before harming me. He’s my man.

  Yes, he’s mine. We have battle lines to draw, though. I’m drawing one right now, by letting him know he doesn’t dictate every single thing we do together. Next I’ll worry about college — oh, I’m going — but no way am I going to deprive us of finally coming together. Not when it has been so long in the making. And God, I’m shaking with the need to be possessed by Sasha.

  It’s why I work my tank top over my head and unhook my bra clasp, lust closing in from all sides at the shudder of his huge chest, the Russian curses on his lips. “You have learned a valuable lesson this day, Anya. No? You and that little unfucked cunt are Uncle Sasha’s obsession. You aim to exploit me now by using it to get your way? Is that right?”

  “M - maybe once in a while — ”

  With a half laugh, half growl, he sheds his shirt, revealing a vicious wall of honed muscle and inked artwork and —

  “Oh.” I suck in a breath and reach out to trace his marked skin. Skin I only glimpsed once through the foggy shower glass. “My name. It’s everywhere. All over you.”

  “Da.” Reaching down between us, he unzips his pants and lets out his heavy erection with a groan. Taking the flesh in his right hand, he tilts his hips, letting me see the script low on his stomach. Right above the root of his manhood, my name is scripted in bold, black ink. “You own it all, angel. I’d rip out my heart and tattoo you there, if I could.”

  “Sasha…” My own beating organ lodges in my throat, heat pushing behind my eyes. “But when we were in the library, you didn’t say you loved me back.”

  He drops down above me on all fours. A panther prowling above his claim. “Ah, Anya. I’ve been telling you every day for years. With everything I do, I tell you I love you.” His mouth descends to feast on one breast, then the other, his lips and tongue made of magic. “Did you think I would take you to a Justin Bieber concert if I didn’t worship and love you with my very soul? Angel, my fucking ears were bleeding.”

  I send a giggle up toward the sky. “I — ”

  “Enough. Enough talk.” He rips my panties down my legs, licking his lips as my private flesh is bared. Bracing a forearm beside my head, he slides two fingers of the opposite hand inside me, arching my back off the grass. “I wanted to make this first time romantic, but it is proving even more difficult than I thought. I want to thrust into the tightness I’ve been dreaming about, Anya. I want to give it my cum.”

  “I want that, too,” I whisper, throwing my arms up over my head. I’ve touched myself so many times with my own fingers and I could never make it feel this good — at least not this fast — but the pads of his fingers slide right over my clit, strumming it in a slow, rough fashion I didn’t know I needed. It’s possessive, knowing, right. His mouth finds mine, opening, our tongues stroking in long, breathless turns until I’m writhing on the ground. I’m so wet, so restless, I can’t stand it. “Condom. Quick. A - and then, can you just…”

  “Nyet. No rubber.” His middle finger finds a sensitive place inside me that creates a ringing in my ears, pulsing heat beneath my belly button. “On this I will not negotiate.”

  “Do you negotiate on anything?” I gasp.

  Sasha’s mouth finds mine again as he positions himself between my legs. That incredibly huge part of him rests on my stomach, throbbing in time with my pulse and slowly, so slowly, he rolls his hips back, forward, dragging his steel length over my clit. “You were mine to breed the day we locked eyes. You knew this, did you not?” Sweat breaks out on his upper lip, his big, tattooed chest heaving, expanding. “Innocent or not, your body knew to tempt Uncle Sasha and no one else. You knew you’d make me a daddy one day in more ways than one.”

  Did I know that deep down? Yes. I think so. There has never been a time when Sasha’s nearness didn’t cause a painful tug within my womb. Maybe it was the way he looked at me or protected me. Or maybe it was woman’s intuition. I don’t know. One thing is for certain, though, no matter what happens between us in this battle of wills, Sasha is my soul mate. I’ve loved him since I was thirteen. And I’ll love him until the end of time. He’s a hard, complicated man, but I’ll never find a better one. Or one who loves me more.

  I close my eyes and imagine my belly swelling with his child and suck in a breath at the elemental yearning inside me. My hands lift to cage his face. “Daddy.”

  Gray eyes flare with possession. “Now you understand, little angel.” Teeth bared, Sasha reaches down to fist his erection, guiding it to my entrance. When he forces the large head inside me with a grunt, there’s an uncomfortable stretching sensation, but I keep my gaze glued on the man above me as he speaks. “Be brave. My cock wants nothing more than to worship you, Anya.” More inches enter me, and I whimper, trying to close my thighs, but Sasha’s hips block me. “You will be rewarded for your pain.”

  In one vicious thrust, Sasha buries his thick shaft inside me, tearing a scream from my throat. Sharp pain blooms between my legs, and I move involuntarily, trying to shove Sasha’s powerful body off mine. “It hurts, Daddy. Stop.”

  He pins my flailing wrists above my head. “Lie still.” A great shudder passes through his chest, and he rears back, driving me up the grass with a ferocious buck of his hips. “Fuck. How can I keep from moving when you’re this perfect?”

  “Try harder.”

  With a gritted Russian curse, he gathers my knees in his hands and falls down on top of me, lodging his face in my neck. “Forgive me, angel. I’ve waited so long, imagined you from every angle, and still — still — my imagination didn’t do you justice.”

  Automatically, my hands begin sifting through his hair, stroking down his back. I am powerless to do anything but comfort the man I love. “You’re just so huge.”

  “Da,” he rasps. “The size will please you once you’ve been broken in.”

  Breathing through my nose, I take stock of the pain, relieved to feel it abating. But with the lessening of my own pain, I can no longer ignore Sasha’s. He’s breathing like a man who just swam ashore from a shipwreck in the middle of the ocean. His limbs are full of tension, his hoarse exhalations heating my neck, but still
he doesn’t move out of deference to me. “It’s better now,” I whisper in his ear. “Break me in, Daddy.”

  The rope around his control disappears, and the dangerous man I always knew lurked beneath Sasha’s surface comes out to play. His eyes are animalistic as he shoves my thighs open and begins to pound himself into me. Even in the midst of the lingering discomfort, I can’t help but marvel at how he moves, confident and desperate all at once. Controlled but somewhat frantic. Frantic to…breed me.

  “This teasing little pussy has driven me out of my mind,” he grits out, his face tipping toward the sky to shout my name. “Sitting on my lap. Cuddling Daddy’s cock through thin panties while you did your homework. You will learn now what you’ve tempted.”

  For the next few minutes, I’m nothing but a plaything for his driving manhood. Sweat falls from his forehead onto my body, my face, his pumping body sleek and commanding. Relentless. There’s no gentleness now, only the proving of ownership. But as my teeth clack together, my breasts bouncing up and down, I can’t deny I love this sensation of my body being used to slake Sasha’s lust. It’s turning me on even more, the way his entire universe seems centered on where our bodies join. Over and over and over.

  I open my legs even wider and take my nipples between my fingers, playing with them. A hot zing of pleasure travels to the flesh at the juncture of my thighs, and I gasp. “Oh.”

  Through a haze of need, I meet Sasha’s half - mast eyes before allowing my attention to travel down his flexed chest and abdomen muscles, the dozens of versions of my name. When I reach the spot where Sasha rams himself in and out of me, I watch his thumb settle on my clit, loving it with a series of jiggles and strokes. “Cover Daddy’s cock in your sweetness, little angel. You will be taking my cum soon and I want your body receptive.”

  “Yes, yes…” My inner walls begin to spasm around the hard invasion of Sasha. “Yes.”

  “Good girl.” He suctions his mouth to mine in a wet tongue kiss, and a loud rumble begins in his chest, eventually releasing from his lips. “You will take now.” Tensing, he throws his head back and moans. “Take.”

  I’m still in the throes of my climax when I’m flooded between the legs. There’s no other way to describe it. Sasha overflows me with his hot, sticky essence and continues to pound, pound, pound, growling at the sky with eyes clenched shut. It goes on for so long, more and more liquid sliding down the insides of my thighs and pooling beneath my bottom, that I have another orgasm, my back arching off the ground as I scream.

  When I’m pulled into Sasha’s arms some time later, a blessed, comfortable blackness is already creeping in to claim me. “I love you, Sasha,” I murmur, turning my face into his mighty chest. “I love you so much that I have to fight until we get our life exactly right.”

  “I love you more than should be humanly possible, Anya.” He stands and lays a lingering kiss on my forehead. “But do not fight me, for we are already exactly right.”

  Ignoring my sense of apprehension, I drift into a deep sleep as he carries me to the house. Our house.

  Chapter Eight

  Sasha

  What is the level above obsession?

  Whatever its name, that is my affliction.

  Power and need pump through my veins as I watch Anya sleep, her slight body swallowed up by our enormous bed. I have not bothered to dress for two reasons. One, I would need to stop staring at my beauty in order to do so. Two, I am enjoying the sight of her virgin blood on my cock far too much. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine.

  I realize I haven’t taken a deep breath in a full minute, and inhale through my nose, easing the pressure on my lungs. Already my seed is taking root inside her. I am not God and yet this is something I can sense. She glows among the bedsheets, her little pink nipples beckoning me closer. Perhaps I will wake her with my tongue between her legs. Yes. When I told Anya her pain would be rewarded, there was no greater truth. I have the stamina of two bulls and an eager tongue. When I drown the angel in pleasure, drape her in silk and feed her tonight, she will cease this talk of fighting and battles.

  We will only be interrupted a short while by the priest, who waits downstairs in the living room to pronounce us man and wife. After that, she will be made to forget her arguments with me and accept the happiness I’m driven to provide her. And I can provide for her every need. For a very long time. My profession might be considered unpleasant to some, but being the best at what I do made it very lucrative. Which is why the priest doesn’t mind waiting for Anya to wake from her nap. I have paid him very well.

  Only the promise that Anya will be my wife tonight forces me to tear my gaze off her sleeping form and take a shower. When I emerge from the en - suite bathroom, Anya rouses among the sheets, blinking at me sleepily. “Hi.” Her eyes are drawn to my stiff cock, which I haven’t bothered covering with a towel. “Wow,” she breathes. “This is going to take some getting used to.”

  Fuck, her mouth looks soft. All of her appears so soft. Touchable. “Trust me, I would get you used to it now, but we have a guest waiting downstairs.”

  “We do?” She sucks in a breath. “Is it m - my father?”

  “Nyet.” My blood pressure goes haywire for a moment at the reminder that another male has a claim to her. Even fatherhood is unacceptable. Mine. Mine. “A priest. Within the hour, you will be Anya Mikhailov.”

  “Oh, really?” Her spine straightens. “I don’t remember you asking me to marry you.”

  My muscles threaten to snap. “You would allow me to breed you on the back lawn — fill you with my child — but you will not take my last name?”

  A tense standoff begins between us, but I’m almost brought to my knees when her lower lip trembles and her body sags. “I know we don’t exactly have a conventional relationship, but you could at least give me a nice proposal.”

  “I will try, angel. I will try to do this,” I say without hesitation, intensity resonating in my throat. “Please, do not cry. I am only impatient to call you mine. In every sense.”

  She uses the sheet to wipe her damp cheeks. “Cut me some slack, all right? I didn’t even know you were into me until this morning.”

  “Into you? Your name is tattooed on my body once for every year you’ve been alive.”

  “You’re going to run out of room by the time I’m forty.”

  “And that will be my honor.” I kneel on the bed and walk toward Anya, cupping her face in my hands. “You’re the only woman I’ve ever loved or lusted for. The only person I’ve ever called friend.” I brush my thumbs across her eyebrows. “Become my wife. Give me a far richer life than I deserve.”

  With a gusty sigh, she tucks her face into the crook of my neck. “See? That wasn’t so hard.”

  Relief is a cool balm inside my chest. “That was good, yes?”

  Her smile blooms against my skin. “Da. Very good.” When she pulls back, there’s a pink flush on her cheeks. I suspect it has something to do with my hard dick prodding her between the legs, looking for its home. “Should we go get married?”

  I nod and allow the anticipation to take hold once more. “The suitcase with your clothing is in the closet. You might want to shower before facing a man of God. You look as if you’ve been plowed by an uptight Russian.”

  She swings her legs over the side of the bed and stands. On her way to the bathroom, she sends me a saucy wink over her shoulder. “I have.”

  My entire being aches with love as I watch her vanish behind the closed door.

  Note to self: sometimes it’s easier to ask for things. Asking gets me winked at by Anya.

  This gives me much to consider.

  Anya

  Oh snap.

  I almost fall down the stairs when I see Sasha waiting for me, a young priest at his elbow. My Russian is wearing a tight white dress shirt and black pants. Through the material of his shirt, I can see the outline of his tattoos. They creep out through the cuffs onto his hands, his knuckles. Grow through the collar onto his neck. A
nd the expression on his face…

  He likes me in the white nightie. He just doesn’t want me in it right this second.

  See, I didn’t get the dress code memo. Nor have I ever had to follow a dress code.

  Sasha and I spend most of our time at home, since my father’s business dealings put my life in danger. So I don’t go beyond casual very often. Heck, I’m usually in yoga pants or a bathing suit, while Sasha lives in his signature overcoat. Maybe I should have realized a wedding meant putting on a dress, but hey, this is taking place in our living room. As soon as the priest leaves, I have a feeling we’re heading back to bed, anyway. At least I hope so. Ever since I woke up to find him devouring me with hot, gray eyes, my body has been humming. Wanting him.

  Did I wear it thanks to some subconscious wishful thinking?

  When the priest averts his eyes and Sasha’s jaw tightens, I look down and notice the hem brushes high on my thighs, just beneath my underwear. Oh boy. It’s even shorter than I realized. “Should I go get a robe, or — ”

  “Nyet,” Sasha says, visibly trying to keep his cool. “We do this now.”

  Electricity straightens my spine. Sasha has always been high - handed with me, but I was a child. Not his soon - to - be wife. Tomorrow is orientation at college and I’m going to be there. That’s the war I’m prepared to fight. But apparently there are going to be several little battles along the way to making him a fair husband. To that end, Sasha dictating every detail of our wedding day really isn’t working for me.

  Being indignant toward Sasha while wanting him this bad?

  The combination makes me a powder keg.

  I face Sasha and smile. When he bares his teeth in response, I notice the hard outline of his erection, pushing behind the fly of his trousers. I’m not sure if the priest has noticed, too, or if he’s still scandalized by my paper - thin nightie, but he’s furiously clearing his throat, the Bible trembling in his hand. I can’t take my attention off Sasha, though, and I grow increasingly wet between my thighs as his gaze slides down to my nipples, stiffening them. After years of trying to tempt Sasha to no avail, the rush of power is heady. Hot and overwhelming.