Pakhan's Rose

by V. F. Mason

  Kostya stood in front of him, his hands in his pockets, his icy-blue pools deep with regret. “It’s my fault. We misunderstood each other. I left her in your hotel room, and she decided to have a drink and hang out with us.” Well, hang out was a strong word for what we had going on before Dom showed up, but apparently Kostya lived in his own reality.

  Dom’s face transformed from pissed off to deadly in a matter of seconds, his cheeks blushing and his eyes filling with shame. Our gazes clashed as he raised his hand to caress my cheek, but instinctively, I flinched and clenched my hands into fists. Just remembering his room and all the implications of his past liaisons made me nauseous, and I didn't care that it was stupid to be jealous of the past.

  Focusing his attention on his people, he said slowly, yet with so much force in his voice that I wanted to hide under a blanket. “All of you, listen to me well. This here”—he pointed at me—“is my woman. Not a piece of ass you can disrespect, but the pakhan’s future wife.” Blinking rapidly at this information, I wondered if that was his proposal or something, because I sure as hell never got the ring. “No one touches her. No one breathes in her direction without my permission. If you upset her, you upset me. And more importantly, protect her with your life. Is that clear?” They nodded rapidly, although some of them, by the skeptical looks, weren't convinced or happy with his choice.

  Oh, screw them.

  “Kostya, three o'clock, my office.” Then he addressed the woman. “Konstanciya, you too.”

  “What the hell did I do wrong?” she whined, folding her arms and glaring at the bartender. “He’s the one who screwed up.” Dom ignored her comment, and she cast her eyes down at his fierce stare.

  “Rosa, let’s go.” Stepping back, I shook my head in denial.

  “Thanks, but no thanks. I prefer to stay here.” Then I couldn't help but add, “Enjoy relaxing in your fuck pad.”

  One second, I stood high and mighty, and the next, Dominic threw me over his shoulder and strolled in the direction of the lobby. He walked up the stairs to the second floor as my head kept spinning from being upside down and the drink I’d consumed. “Your fuck pad is there.” I motioned at no particular place, just knowing one of the rooms downstairs was his. “Where are you taking me?” The hard slap on my ass came out of nowhere, and I rubbed my butt cheek. “Ouch, that hurt!”

  “Quiet,” he growled, and my rage boiled over.

  “Why?” God, why did I sound like a stupid teenager? “Showing me such disrespect, placing me in the same room as your whores.” Guilt washed over me, because maybe all those women he had slept with weren't whores, but when you had feelings for a man and dealt with his past… yeah, all women were whores and bitches. No one wanted to paint an image of a sweet, caring woman in her head.

  He reached some big-ass wooden door, opened it easily, and went inside, placing me back on my feet. I had to grab his arms as my knees wobbled.

  Holy hell. I certainly didn't expect that.

  Dominic

  Rosa’s jaw almost hit the floor from her shock, and I scanned my home along with her.

  My apartment wing consisted of three rooms, two bathrooms, and a huge balcony with one big window, which opened up to a view of the whole mansion. The suite also had a secret passage that led to all the important places, something Vasya made sure to show and explain to me. Being the pakhan of the Bratva, you had to always know how to protect your family and the people relying on you. Before, I didn't give a shit about this, but after deciding to claim Rosa as mine, I couldn't help but appreciate the knowledge.

  The wing had marble floors with small squares, which glistened under the crystal chandelier. Expensive leather couches, chairs, and a flat-screen TV dominated the living room that also had a small bar with gold glasses. An expensive Persian rug was in front of the fireplace, which was rarely used these days. Leaving her gaping at the place, I walked to the small office containing a huge, black oak desk with a computer on it. I placed our passports, documents, and the information about finances Yuri gave me in the safe and shut off the light then went back after my woman.

  “It’s well… luxurious.” Her eyes met mine. “More like the pakhan’s apartment. Your hotel room didn't impress me much, to tell you the truth.” Hurt colored her voice as she wrapped her arms around her chest as if protecting herself from me.

  My heart panged painfully, regretting she had stepped even a foot there. That room was reserved strictly for hooking up with women. As a result, the room was nicknamed by my men the ‘hotel room,’ and everyone knew not to disturb me if I was in it. Usually, the whole encounter lasted only a few hours, and it never meant anything. Yeah, an asshole thing to say, but I never promised anyone anything. Shameful as it was, I didn't even care for their pleasure in bed.

  “It’s not mine anymore.”

  She licked her lips, and asked quietly, “For how long?”

  Sighing heavily, I palmed her face, raising her chin so she wouldn't be able to hide her emotions from me. “I don't claim to be a saint, but, krasavica, I haven't touched anyone since seeing your picture in the office almost two and a half months ago.” Pausing for a moment, I didn't know if I should share more, or how it even worked between couples, but I decided to go for complete honesty. “That’s the day I last had sex too.” She flinched, trying to get away from me, but I wouldn't let go. “Rosa, please try to understand it.”

  “I do. I just—I don’t want to sleep in the same place where they did.” Her voice was so low, barely a whisper.

  “No one has ever entered here.”

  Her brows lifted in surprise. “Really?”

  “Yes.” My mouth covered hers in a soft, chaste kiss, as she sighed in pleasure, circling her arms around my neck. Dropping my open palms on her ass, I picked her up so she’d wrap those shapely thighs of hers around my waist as we continued. “Let me show you the rest.” With that, I guided us to my master bedroom.

  Vasya had lived in these rooms for thirty years, and as expected, the last thing I wanted was to move in here, but once you were the pakhan, you didn't have a choice. Changing anything in the other two rooms was senseless. All the furniture was already antique, and I didn't spend enough time there to care.

  However, the master bedroom was a different story. I rearranged everything. I threw away the massive bed, couch, all the Dominant crap Vasya had. I got rid of the red satin sheets and curtains, expensive clocks, and artwork. The bathroom was cleared of all the feminine necessities— who the hell would use them anyway? Instead, a single black mattress was on the floor with a woolen blanket. Several candles were placed in different corners of the room. A curtain hung to the side of the balcony door, allowing the cool breeze along with dusky light inside. Because of the size of the window, the room didn't really need any lamps or chandeliers, so I'd removed them too.

  Canvases and paints were scattered on the floor, against the wall, everywhere. The single thing I had for myself in this life. My hands twitched with longing, as Rosa gasped, “Oh, my God, you paint?” She wiggled out of my embrace and looked around, her eyes sparkling with wonderment and appreciation.

  “Yes.” Clearing my throat, I elaborated, “After Vasya took me in… somehow the brush and painting became my best friends, and I couldn't stop even if someone put a gun to my head.”

  “Well you shouldn’t. You have talent.” My cheeks heated, not used to compliments, as no one ever had the chance to study my art. Her fingers ran over the canvas, touching it gently and tenderly. “What’s this?” The painting showed the Baikal Lake during a rainstorm. Navy blue dominated the painting as nature ruled over the people in the boat, who unfortunately were drowning.

  “Baikal Lake. The idea of the absolute power of nature fascinates me.”

  “Everyone is powerless against it,” she whispered.

  “Exactly.”

  She hugged me close. “Would you paint something for me?”

  “Yeah.” Without thinking, I said, “You naked.” She froze
, leaned back, and blinked a few times. My mouth opened to make a joke of it, but she nodded. She fucking nodded.

  “Is there a bathroom in here?” As I pointed at the door near the walk-in closet, she practically ran to it and closed the door after her.

  Did my woman just agree to pose naked for me? Toeing off my shoes, I took off my shirt, leaving only my black jeans on, put my hair back in a bun so it wouldn't get in the way, and prepared the surroundings for the perfect atmosphere.

  I lit several candles, removed the blanket from the mattress, dropped my shirt on it in case she felt modest, and allowed the fresh air to slip in from the open balcony door.

  The only thing missing was my woman, who I couldn't fucking wait to paint.

  Rosa

  What the hell are you doing, girl?

  The question ran through my mind for the hundredth time as I studied myself in the mirror.

  Naked. Completely freaking naked.

  My full breasts heaved, rose nipples stood up, while my narrow waist dipped enough to showcase my wide hips, which no amount of Pilates helped get rid of. My silky, dark hair cascaded down my back in straight lines. With lust-hooded eyes from the idea of Dominic seeing me like this, I reminded myself of Monica Bellucci, only with a bigger ass.

  A soft knock on the door snapped me from my thoughts. “Rosa?”

  Shivers ran down my spine at hearing his low, gruff voice. “Yes?” Surprisingly, my voice transformed into husky too, and all of a sudden, it was too hot to breathe or stay inside.

  “I have something for you.” He cleared his throat. “I’ll leave it on the handle. I think… just wear it.” After a beat, I heard his feet padding farther into the room, away from me.

  Frowning, I cracked open the door slightly, reached for the thing from the inside, and closed it quickly, my heart beating fast against my ribcage. I couldn't even explain why.

  My hands removed the wrapping, and I gasped as the tiny, sheer, black lacy nightgown that was soft as silk came into view. I put it on along with the lacy panties that barely covered my butt. The cloth rubbed my nipples, making them sensitive, and my body buzzed with excitement. I didn't know how it was possible, but somehow this tiny bit of lace made me feel more naked. It sure as hell displayed my curves in a better way.

  Exhaling a breath, with determination running in my blood, I exited the bathroom and joined Dom. His back was to me as he dipped the brushes in a water bowl, lining them up one-by-one according to size and shape on the small wooden desk near his canvas. He must have heard me, because he glanced over his shoulder, blinked, and then slowly turned, his amber pools getting darker and darker as they gazed at me with lust. The cold air from the AC nipped my skin, and shivers ran down my spine.

  “Where do you want me?” I asked throatily, as his jaw ticked from how hard he was gritting his teeth, and the wooden brush in his hand cracked. Because of the control he was holding onto?

  “On the mattress, in the middle where the sun will shine on you.” Gulping air into my lungs, I sauntered to it and kneeled, crawling to the middle, while thinking which position to take. Sexy or innocent? I almost snorted, because who’d be innocent in this gown?

  A poster of pinup girls that once occupied Lorenzo’s walls when we were kids flashed through my mind. I had a favorite one by Gil Elvgren with a brunette pinup model. She sat on her calves, bending forward, one hand on the bed while the other stretched under her breasts with a palm peeking through the opening of her another arm. Her chin raised, her facial features reflecting grace and sexiness. Her nightgown was see-through white, and the innocence of it with her pose always created an interesting contrast for me.

  Containing all my courage in a tiny cup inside me, I recreated the pose, and the minute I did, Dominic’s loud inhale of breath put all my nerves on alert. My head was dizzy from the adrenalin and desire. We held each other’s stare for a moment. Then he picked up the brush, dipped it in light brown paint, and his hands moved flawlessly on the canvas.

  The room stayed silent, only our mingled breaths disrupting it. My panties dampened as my eyes drank in all his masculine beauty. Sweat glistened on his tanned skin. Droplets slid down his tattooed neck to his muscled chest and the six-pack dipping into his pants sitting low on his hips, highlighting his magnificent body.

  Closing my eyes, a quiet moan escaped me as my hand trailed lower to my heated core on its own accord. My nipples hurt from the nightgown, as if my blood turned into fire, and I wished to shred it into tiny pieces.

  “Don’t you dare,” Dominic growled, snapping me from my fog. “No one is allowed to touch my pussy.” His voice washed over me like burning lava, which only increased my passion. “Put your hand back in the same place.” He continued to paint me for several minutes as I was losing my mind and my body was getting numb. Sighing, I picked my hair up and leaned my head back so my sore neck would get some rest. My thighs rubbed each other, and a jolt of electricity froze me as I hissed, while it sent sensations to my clit.

  My eyes travelled to Dom, who stood with a brush in the air while he studied me, his chest rising and falling.

  Then all hell broke loose. He murmured, “Fuck it.” At the same time, I jumped from the bed right into his arms, circling his neck and waist while held me close and then lowered us onto the floor. He loomed above me as he hiked up my nightgown, snatched off the panties, and pushed his covered cock against me, right on my sensitive peak as he sucked hard on my nipples. My fingers tangled in his hair, pulling it loose from the bun.

  Arching my back, I cried out as he ground his hips back and forth, mimicking the act of lovemaking. I tightened my legs around him, enjoying the friction, as he smashed his mouth over mine while I begged for something I couldn't name.

  Tingling sensations, shivers, pain, and pleasure at the same time.

  Was this sex? Or did I still have no idea about it?

  He stopped moving.

  “No, no. Come back!” I protested, wanting him to finish what he started, but he didn't listen. Instead, he shifted lower between my knees, his breath fanning over my core, and in a second, his tongue licked from down to up and then up to down, and then he entered me with one finger while his lips wrapped around my clit, sucking it greedily. “Oh, my God,” I chanted. Each lick and stroke swirled me deeper and deeper to the point of no return, while I desperately tried to latch onto the cold floor, only getting frustrated from being unable to hold on to something. Pressing my open palms over my breasts, I moaned as the pressure sent fire down my stomach and combined with his actions, and I finally reached the edge.

  I cried out loudly, biting my finger while he continued licking. I pushed his head aside; my flesh was too sensitive to withstand it all. “Dominic,” I whispered. He rose, sharing my taste with me as our mouths locked in a punishing kiss, bruising my lips from the force of his desire. “You didn't come again,” I complained, and he chuckled albeit painfully.

  “Krasavica, I came in my pants.”

  “Really?” I asked, surprised. “You wouldn't let me do anything about it.” My voice sounded bitter, but I couldn't help it. Why wouldn't he let me see to his pleasure?

  “Yes, like a fucking teenager.” He kissed me one more time, before whispering, “Cannot have half things from you, and I wouldn't have been gentle or had the patience to take it slow. We were too worked up.” He picked me up in his arms and placed me on the mattress. “Wait here.” He disappeared into the bathroom. I heard the sound of water running, and then he joined me, wearing gray sweatpants. Apparently, he cleaned up. I rested my head on his shoulder, drowsy, my eyelids heavy, lullabied by his steady heartbeat. “Moya krasavica,” he whispered, right before oblivion took me and I fell asleep with a smile on my face.

  Man with the dragon tattoo

  Whistling loudly in my basement, I hacked into the system of Damian’s wedding planner and printed an extra invitation for myself. Closing it in the envelope, I neatly hid it inside my pocket and sipped my evening coffee. Groaning lou
dly, I pushed Bianca’s head deeper onto my cock while she gagged on the whole thing and cum leaked onto her tongue. The bitch sure knew how to give good head, or maybe it was the practice through all the years we had been together.

  “So, my little pet, choose a beautiful dress for yourself. You should outshine those other bitches.” My hands fisted her hair as I pushed her head back, my dick coming out with a popping sound as her watery eyes widened and she breathed in much-needed air. “And don’t think I haven’t noticed how you look at my brother.” She shook her head, as if lying to me would help her.

  Bianca was the love of my life, but unfortunately, she loved my brother, all those feelings evident in her loving gazes and secret touches.

  No more.

  When my fruitful plan came to life, my brother and father would go down with everyone else. I just had to think of an appropriate punishment for them.

  Sipping beer from a bottle, my eyes scanned the bar as various mafia members smoked joints or enjoyed women. Public sex and fighting were common things here.

  But I never participated until tonight.

  No matter how many tasks I completed, no one took me seriously, and I always had suspicious glances sent my way when I refused to fuck any of the whores who liked to visit the compound.

  As I took yet another sip, my eyes clashed with Olga’s as her full, red-painted lips lifted up in a seductive smile and she sauntered toward me, swaying her hips from side to side. The girl had long legs, a firm ass, and more-than-a-handful breasts. She reached me in a few steps and ran her manicured finger over my chest, her eyes lifting in admiration as she marveled at my six-pack glistening with sweat, as I’d just left the training room.

  “Dominic,” she purred. “How about taking me to your room?” I almost laughed in her face. Just the idea of her overused perfume on my sheets—or any woman’s for that matter—in my private space sent a shiver through me, the sensation like ants crawling inside my pants.