by Laura Hart
Russian Persuasion
Laura Hart
Blushing Books
Contents
What’s Inside
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1. Misbehaving Thoughts
2. I Won’t Tell If You Don’t
3. You Can Call If You Want
4. They Say Opposites Attract
5. You Fascinate Me, Sadie Duval
6. I Have a Proposition for You
7. You Have a Wild Imagination
8. Here’s to a Memorable Weekend
9. I Hate Zucchini
10. Many Women Find Such a Tingle to be Erotic
11. He Even Picked Me Up and Carried Me
12. I’ll Follow You There Just to be Sure
13. Being Equal Doesn’t Require Being the Same
14. I’ll Have to Make It All Better, Won’t I?
15. I Intend to Collect on Every Single Bit of It
16. My Hand Was Restless
17. I Love You Too
18. Max is the Real Deal
19. Welcome to St. Petersburg
20. They Could Pose for Their Own Advertising
21. I Want to Share All of It with Her
22. Sadie, My Beautiful Sadie
23. I’ve Loved Everything
24. She Would Rue Her Words
25. You Can Get Up Now
26. It Was Simple but Complete
Laura Hart
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©2018 by Blushing Books® and Laura Hart
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No part of the book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
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Laura Hart
Russian Persuasion
EBook ISBN: 978-1-61258-730-1
Cover Art by ABCD Graphics & Design
This book is intended for adults only. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only, intended for adults. Nothing in this book should be interpreted as Blushing Books' or the author's advocating any non-consensual spanking activity or the spanking of minors.
What’s Inside
“Look at me, Sadie.” His strong deep voice seemed to command her, and she reluctantly turned so she was facing him and then immediately regretted it. His dark eyes seemed to see right into her, and she felt weak under his gaze. Oh god, why had she come?
Max pulled her closer and then leaned down and covered her mouth with his own. Sadie stiffened slightly, but as the kiss grew more intense, she relaxed and seemed to melt perfectly into his strong body. The way he was exploring her mouth made it difficult for her to stand.
“I want to make love to you, Sadie, but only if you want it, too.” He paused, his arms supporting her as if he knew how weak-kneed she felt.
Somewhere deep inside of her a warning about this powerfully attractive man was trying desperately to get her attention, but she ignored it and heard herself whispering, “Okay.”
Before she realized what was happening, Max scooped her up as if she weighed nothing and carried her to the bed where he gently laid her down and then lay down next to her. “We have all night, mishka. We don’t have to hurry.”
Sadie nodded and hoped that he couldn’t hear her heart pounding. Max’s eyes seemed to see everything, and he kissed her again, gently, almost as if to calm her rather than to excite her. He lay next to her, propped up on his elbow studying her and smiling, not unlike a gourmet might as he studied the menu in a famous French restaurant.
“My beautiful Sadie,” he murmured. Then he sat up and reached for Sadie’s feet, slipping off first one shoe and then the other. He held her second foot in his hand and studied it. “Your feet are beautiful. You didn’t study ballet long enough to ruin them.”
Sadie looked surprised. It was a pure Max statement, reflecting both a romanticism and knowledge. He knew enough about ballet to recognize that years of advanced dancing made legs and feet ugly, not beautiful. He leaned over and kissed her toes, then took the other foot and did the same.
He studied her again with that look that said he was reveling in pleasure and then lay down again next to her and brushed her hair away from her face. “Tell me something about Sadie Duval, something that I don’t know.”
Sadie bit her lower lip. She was fully clothed except for her shoes and yet something about Max’s behavior had her totally on edge—the way he looked at her so intently and made every simple movement sensual. She was being seduced in a way she’d never experienced, slowly and by a man who seemed in complete control of the situation.
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Misbehaving Thoughts
Sadie Duval was sitting cross-legged on a tile-covered concrete bench overlooking the Galveston Seawall, her tablet on her lap. It was a place she loved to come, with the salty sea air, the sounds of lapping water, the seagulls, and the laughter of happy people. It was her ‘home base,’ and many of her hugely popular, syndicated blog posts had been written somewhere along this stretch of beachfront.
Now, she typed the last several sentences of her current blog entry, turned the tablet off, and put it back into the enormous canvas bag sitting next to her on the bench. She people-watched for a few minutes and then got up to go, but just as she did, she caught sight of a little girl feeding the gulls. Photography had been a passion of hers since childhood, so she whipped out her camera and moved several steps closer to capture the action.
Finally, the little girl ran back to her mother, so, pleased with the photos she’d just shot, she turned around just in time to see a slender figure in a hoodie grab her canvas bag as he zoomed by on a bicycle.
“Hey! Stop! That’s my bag!” she yelled frantically, waving her arms and run
ning after him, but the rider was already well past her, pedaling quickly. “Help! Someone stop him!”
The bicycle continued moving away from her rapidly, leaving her to watch helplessly. She didn’t even have her phone to call 9-1-1 since she’d tossed it into the bag when she was packing up. Damn! Why hadn’t she at least thought to take his picture?
Oh god, what am I going to do? she thought miserably to herself. My whole life is in that bag. Her shoulders drooped as she sank back down on the concrete bench, still looking after the bicyclist who was barely visible. The day suddenly looked very dark.
She sat there dejected for a minute or two, trying to decide how to get home without her car keys or any money, but as she watched, she saw something amazing. Two figures were walking in her direction, one of them wearing a hoodie and the other holding a large canvas bag. Her amazement turned to disbelief as she stared at the two men, and then she jumped up and ran towards them, not at all understanding what had happened but too relieved at seeing her canvas bag again to care. A tall stranger had a large hand firmly around the upper arm of the scowling thief while the other was holding her precious bag. “Is this yours?” he asked as he held it towards her.
“Oh my god, yes!” she exclaimed, practically snatching it out of his hand and then literally pressing it to her chest. “How in the world did you get it back? Are you a policeman?”
The man laughed. “Hardly. I’m just a guy who saw a lady in distress. Would you like to call the police so they can come take this character off my hands?”
Sadie looked in amazement at the way the stranger was holding the hoodie-wearing purse snatcher by one hand only. He must have quite a grip, she thought to herself. Mr. Hoodie isn’t even trying to get away. She started to rummage in her bag for her phone, but the stranger held out his. “Here, use mine. It’ll be faster.”
While they waited for the police to arrive, Sadie pumped the man for details on how he’d saved her bag. It seems that he’d been in his parked car and had seen the whole drama—the purse snatching, her frantic cries, and the bicyclist pedaling towards his car. He’d jumped out and grabbed the guy as he went by, toppling him off his bike.
“You’ve got awfully good reflexes,” she said admiringly. “I can’t believe you grabbed him while he was riding.”
Actually, as she studied him, she could believe it. He was in remarkably good condition and had muscles showing through his shirt. He was also what she thought of as ‘full’—full hair, full eyebrows, full lips, and ever-so-slightly perhaps even full of himself. The look on his face said he was in control of what was around him, but today she could forgive him that last ‘full’ because it had saved her from a horrible inconvenience.
Finally, the police car pulled up and an officer took their statements and then carted the unlucky purse snatcher off in handcuffs. While listening to the tall stranger give his report, Sadie learned that his name was Max Orlov and that he lived in Houston. He had an interesting hint of an accent that she couldn’t quite place, but it really didn’t matter since she’d probably never see him again.
“Thank you so much,” Sadie repeated after they were alone. “You don’t know how much you saved my life!”
“I’m glad I could help,” said Max, smiling down at her. “I might suggest, though, that you not turn your back on your belongings that way. In today’s world, there’s always some lowlife only too happy to rob you if given the chance.”
“I know,” answered Sadie, noticeably cooler than a minute ago. “My bad.” She turned to go, throwing over her shoulder, “Thanks again.”
* * *
Maxim Orlov had come to Galveston that morning to deliver a package to a special customer, and then, on a whim, he’d driven to the beach. Now, he was on his way back to Houston, and as he sped north on I-45, he thought about the woman whose bag he’d rescued—Sadie Duval, as she’d given her name to the policeman. He’d have to be blind not to have noticed that she was very attractive, and he most definitely wasn’t blind. Even in their brief encounter, he’d clearly noticed her hair that seemed a bouquet of warm shades—everything from pale brown to hazy blonde to golden sun streaks. Then there were her eyes, which reminded him of a piece of lapis lazuli he had on his desk—rich deep blue with golden specks. Her face was expressive, and he hadn’t missed the hint of a chill that had come over it when he’d scolded her ever so slightly about not watching her bag better. He’d listened when she gave the policeman her address, so he knew she lived in Galveston. Maybe he’d call her in a couple days and see if she’d forgiven his comment.
* * *
Sadie was having her own thoughts about the encounter. She helped pay her bills by writing about men—about how unnecessary they were, to be exact. She wasn’t a man-hater or anything, and she had no problem with men as friends or colleagues, but she had no use for women who thought they weren’t whole without a man in their lives. Her blog, which was called On Being Complete and which was popular enough to be syndicated, encouraged women to find their own strengths and be whole in themselves. She’d long ago accepted the fact that she herself might never find a man who would be comfortable with the strong woman she tried to be—a woman who knew how to support herself, to hang her own pictures, or, shudder, even kill a cockroach if one should have the audacity to appear.
She had a role model for her ideas, and the role model’s name was Harmony. At one point in Sadie’s life this role model had been called ‘Mom,’ but Harmony periodically reinvented herself, and many years ago she had decided that ‘Mom’ was too routine and traditional, so now, she was simply ‘Harmony’ to friends and family alike.
Sadie parked in front of Harmony’s house in Galveston’s Historic District, took her precious canvas tote with her, and went to find out what was happening today. Her mother was the original free spirit, and Sadie never knew what she’d find in the house or back yard—a group of earth mothers in training, a May pole, a Wiccan discussion, primal screams, Buddhist chants, candle making, a yoga class, butter churning, rebirthing—she’d seen it all and more.
“Harmony?” she called as she opened the front door.
“In here, darling,” came a voice from the rear of the house. “I’m making purity soup.”
Sadie put her bag on a chair and went through to the kitchen, where every surface was covered with bowls, books, and incense holders. The air was pungent—a mixture of cooking smells and several different incenses. Sadie knew she’d regret asking, but her curiosity got the better of her. “What’s purity soup?”
Harmony was huddled over her Aga stove stirring a huge pot and, it seemed to Sadie, intoning something barely audible.
“It’s a soup where all the ingredients have been purified. It’s supposed to be very good for cleansing both the body and the spirit. You need to stay and have some.”
“Sorry, I have a meeting at the library tonight. I just dropped by for a minute to tell you what happened today.” She recounted the story of the hoodie-wearing purse snatcher and of the tall stranger who had miraculously gotten her bag back for her again.
“What did he look like?” asked Harmony.
“Why does it matter? The point is he got my bag back.”
“I know, but it’s always more enjoyable to have an adventure with a handsome man than with a frog.”
“Harmony! You don’t even like men.”
“I’ve never said that. I like men perfectly well, just not in my house. They can be quite entertaining and even useful in certain settings.”
“Whatever.” Sadie shook her head in amusement, took a package of homemade, natural bread rolls Harmony handed her, and left again.
* * *
Sadie had a lot of thinking to do. If she was honest with herself, today’s happenings had bothered her in more ways than one. Of course she’d just about died when she’d seen her bag disappearing down the beach—the bag containing her life’s essentials like her phone, her wallet, and the tablet with her columns in it, but when Max ha
d marched the thief back to her and returned her precious belongings, she’d felt more than simple gratitude. She’d felt sensations that had happened only a few times before in her life. With his dark good looks and piercing eyes, his quick reflexes and iron muscles, Max Orlov had awakened a sexual response deep inside her, one she’d been trying to ignore but which she had to admit was very much there. Max had caught her full attention, so now she had to figure out how to erase her misbehaving thoughts and put him out of her mind again.
I Won’t Tell If You Don’t
Sadie was in the Houston Galleria. She had promised Harmony she’d bring a ring of hers to Tiffany’s for a slight adjustment, and now, with that piece of business taken care of, she was doing a bit of window shopping for herself before heading back to Galveston. She didn’t normally spend a huge amount of time shopping, but she did enjoy keeping up with new trends or even just looking at ‘over the top’ windows. She was about to check out Bulgari’s window when something nearby caught her attention—a window she didn’t remember ever having seen before. She moved over to study it and was surprised to see several pieces of jewelry that were very different from the Bulgari and Tiffany ones. There were also several unusual decorative pieces made of a beautiful, dark green, opaque stone, and she spent several minutes admiring the unusual items before starting to turn away.
