by V. F. Mason
All traces of humanity left me, as my hands twitched to punish the rapist.
He wouldn't face the pakhan of the Bratva.
He’d face Dominic Harrison, the little boy who had been raped and abused for nine years.
Rosa
Resting my head on the car seat, I gazed through the tinted windows of the Jeep that Dominic picked specifically for me as Vlad drove, or tried to, in the busy streets of Moscow. If you thought traffic was insane back in New York, you hadn't seen anything. Sometimes I could spend three hours just getting from the university, so I had food and drink in the small fridge, always ready for me.
Once Dominic gave me the green light for anything as long as I had bodyguards at my side, I searched through different universities here to find something suitable for me. They had one of the best medical schools, but unfortunately, only Russian speakers could attend. While I shared my frustration with Dominic, he spoke with the Dean. I had no clue what he promised him, or what he did for that matter, but they enrolled me in their medical program with the condition that I’d intensively study the language. Meanwhile, Columbia University allowed me to take courses like philosophy, psychology—the ones that didn’t require hands-on experience—online, and they would count as credits here. During my rare classes here, Vlad would go inside and translate everything rapidly for me.
When Konstanciya asked me if all the headaches were worth the whole surgical degree and why couldn't I just be happy as Dom’s woman with all the riches at my feet, I fired back with a question about just focusing on the shelter and abandoning her sniper career. She flipped me off, and that was the end of conversation. I chuckled. We sure formed a weird kind of friendship, being the only females in headquarters; we had to get along, and thankfully we did. She took me to the shelter, helped me study, explored the city with me when Dom couldn't, and we had firing matches every other weekend. The only thing we never discussed was Kostya and their banter, or how her face would shut down every time he disappeared behind closed doors with one of the whores. To each their own, I guessed.
Moscow actually reminded me a lot of New York, same kind of energy where people always rushed to do something, not taking breaks, and youngsters coming from all over the country, hoping to achieve their big dreams.
Overall, life here wasn't bad. I adjusted to it rather quickly, maybe because I never had the chance to put down roots in New York with my dad constantly building protective circles around me.
My heart panged painfully at the thought of my father all alone in New York dealing with the fallout of the bombing. He flat out refused to talk with Dom, but picked up my calls. However, those conversations were strained as he insisted on bringing me back to New York when I told him not to. We both knew he couldn't come here and snatch me back. The country’s laws would be on Dom’s side. He slowly got better while Lorenzo still stayed in the hospital, and the last I heard, his girlfriend left him, because she wasn’t able to stand his disfigured face.
What a bitch.
I’d never met the stupid woman, but my hand fisted, wanting to punch her right in the face. My phone chose that moment to ring, and a smile spread as Frankie flashed on the display. “Hi, babe!” I shouted, while she chuckled.
“Glad to know you’re happy I called.”
“The high and mighty Frankie found time for me,” I joked. For the last month, she was busy with the collaboration project and practically lived at her warehouse.
“Ha, ha. Trust me, babe, I haven't had a good night’s sleep in forever.” She sipped her drink rather loudly in my ear. “How is the sexy Russian?” Jealousy jolted through my insides.
“My sexy Russian is fine.” She laughed, then choked, probably spilling whatever she was drinking all over the place. God knows, she did it a lot while we had our coffees or beers together.
“Hey, just stating a fact, babe.”
A pause, and then she asked, “So this Lorenzo guy… does he have any food preferences?”
Her question came so offhandedly, as if no biggie, and I repeated to make sure I wasn't hearing things. “Lorenzo, as in my father’s mafia man, Lorenzo?”
She cleared her throat. “Yeah, him.”
“Why do you ask?”
“I want to visit him at the hospital. Is that a problem?” Her voice turned sharp as a knife.
“No, just surprising. I had no clue you were friends.”
She grew silent to the point I thought we got disconnected, when she finally said, “We kissed once.” I sat straight up, blinking in surprise. “Say something,” she said worriedly.
“Well, I don’t know what to say. When did it happen? How? And he had a girlfriend!” She sucked in a breath, and I immediately wanted to slap myself for spilling this information. Shit, he was stringing along two women at once?
“Yeah, I know,” she murmured quietly.
“And you still kissed him?”
She sighed in frustration. “This is so not a phone call conversation.”
“You are the one who started it!”
“Fine.” I could imagine her glare at me. “He hooked up with her after we had our kiss.” Something wasn't adding up in this story.
“So it wasn’t anything serious?”
“He insisted on an exclusive relationship. I refused. So he moved on. No biggie.” Rubbing my throbbing forehead from all this information, I wondered what I could say to this. Before I could answer, someone called her name, and she apologized, “Sorry babe, have to go. Talk to you later.” By how relieved her voice sounded, I seriously doubt the later would be soon.
I typed “chocolate donuts” and sent her the message, hoping my best friend wouldn’t get her heart broken again.
Dominic
The Bratva men all stood in a circle in a warehouse near the headquarters. The place was gray inside with an iron floor and walls, and only one table occupied the compartment filled with various guns, chains, knives, and hammers.
My personal torture room.
Kiril was right in the middle, his eyes wide with fear as he braced for a fight. Cracking my neck from side to side, I toed off my shoes and ripped off my T-shirt, leaving me standing only in pants with my hair in a bun. He was the same height as me and muscled too, so by no means was I taking advantage of the weaker one. “Rules are simple, Kiril. If you can best me in the fight, you get to live.”
He gulped, saying, “Pakhan—”
“Save it,” I barked. With that, Yuri gave the command to start the match. He stepped forward, trying to deliver a hit, but I pushed back. He again threw a fist right at my face, but I bent my head and instead delivered a blow to his stomach, making him groan in pain. Another blow to his face, while he grabbed his nose and whined. Tsking with my tongue, I mocked. “I thought you were stronger, Kiril.” I spun around, kicking him painfully in his back, so he fell to his knees, breathing heavily.
“Stop,” he begged, but I didn't. Fisting his hair, I motioned for Vitya to give me the chair, and he quickly placed it right under the fucker as I pulled him up painfully. The rope wrapped around his middle, while my fingers explored the knife I’d like to use on him.
Spear point. Perfect.
I spun around him once, and then dug it into his arm while he cried out.
Spun again, this time aiming for his back.
Spun again, this time reaching his stomach. I kept on repeating the action over and over again, hurting different parts of his body in the process, while his cries and begging were music to my ears as my men stood with complete indifference on their faces. Only Michael’s turned green, but he didn't move his gaze from it.
Blood poured from all the wounds, dripping slowly to the floor while he weakened with each minute. With a hammer in my hands, I hit where it would hurt the most.
Right into his dick.
The howl of pain was almost deafening, as the pubic bone broke, his heartbeat escalating, his lungs struggling to breathe.
And finally, Vitya handed me the scissors, whil
e I fucking cut off his dick. Kiril had no strength left to react, completely exhausted from the amount of the pain I delivered.
“I’m the fucking pakhan of the Bratva. In my Bratva, no one, fucking no one, rapes anyone. Be it a whore, virgin, or a girlfriend. If someone says no to you, fucking listen and walk away.” While I proclaimed those words, my eyes scanned each member so they’d know the power behind those words. They shifted uncomfortably, scrutinized by my gaze. “And you, Kiril, failed. This is not even punishment enough.” Pointing my gun at his dick, I fired once as his body jerked, and then right between his brows, giving the fatal shot he’d never survive.
“Misha.” The cleaner showed up at once, his gloved hands already measuring the damage and estimating time.
I didn't even bother to wait for it. Instead, I darted to the sink, washed my hands, put on the extra shirt Vitya had ready for me, and went to the bar to get shitfaced.
No matter how much I killed or laid down the law, there would always be people hurting the unwilling, and those unwilling would always wonder.
Was it their fault?
Suck it like a good boy.
Pretty, so pretty. Wrap those lush lips around my cock, pet.
What a round ass.
The onslaught of memories was just too much for me to handle, and I needed my Rosa.
But the dirt of Kiril couldn't touch her, so the oblivion of booze would have to do.
Rosa
Reading Sapphire’s latest book on my Kindle wasn't exactly how I planned for this evening to go, but Konstanciya and Michael had shit to handle. Then Kostya gave me a call and forbade me to come to the bar, because the boys would get rowdy.
However, their rather suspicious voices got me thinking they were hiding something from me. Frustrated, I threw the Kindle on the chair. I couldn’t concentrate worth shit, and I was about to call Dominic when the apartment door burst open with my man leaning heavily on Vitya’s shoulder. My heart froze in fear, and then galloped against my ribcage. “Oh, my God, was he shot?” I shouted, darting toward them as Vitya shook his head.
“He’s just drunk.”
Fear turned into anger real quick. “He is freaking what?”
“He had some shit to handle. Don’t worry, he’ll sleep it off, and everything is going to be fine.” Vitya sniffed Dom and the winced. “Let me lay him down on the couch. He stinks.” Once it was done, he left us as I blinked like a fool.
We had a fight in the morning. He didn't call me the whole day and then shows up drunk? What could possibly have happened?
Caressing his cheek gently, I sat on the opposite sofa and turned on the TV, hoping some movie would take away my worry.
The sound of heavy footsteps stirred me from my sleep, and the first thing I noticed was the absence of Dominic. Then I heard him shutting the bathroom door, and the sound of the shower being turned on.
Without a single word to me!
Rushing to the room, I was about to let my Russian know our couple business involved more than sightseeing and oral sex.
Dominic
The showerhead jets relaxed my tense shoulders as a relieved groan escaped my mouth. The special brown Russian soap washed me clean from any traces of blood that belonged to the fucker who thought himself entitled to abuse women.
I felt delicate hands on my back as Rosa hugged me from behind, her lavender scent penetrating my nostrils.
“Don’t push me away,” Rosa whispered, as she softly pressed her lips to the crook of my neck. An exhausted sigh left me. On nights like those, when the pakhan of the Bratva had to kill and torture, I wasn't someone who wanted to touch my delicate flower. She was better than my bloody hands. She deserved better. That was one of the reasons I decided to stay at the bar as long as possible, even though the guys called me all kinds of an idiot.
Rosa Giovanni, my ultimate weakness. I wasn't strong enough to break the contact, wasn't strong enough to keep pushing her away. My bottled-up soul cried out for hers. Here she was for the taking. How could I say no to this?
Gently trailing her lips from my neck to my back, her fingers laced through my hair, scratching it lightly, earning a moan from me as tingling sensations spread all over my sore body. Whispering into my ear, “Tell me,” she wrapped her arms around me, holding me tight. Resting my forehead on the cold tile wall, the words spilled out.
“I had to torture a man today for the sins he had committed. After that, when he was left barely alive, a bullet ended his life. A bullet from my gun.” She tensed behind me. Swallowing the bile in my throat, I continued, “He had two kids and a wife waiting at home, and even though he was a piece of fucking shit, they had only the one provider.” Clenching my fist, I slammed it against the tile, enjoying the pain shooting through my knuckles. “Now they do not have him, because of me. Because of the law I had to keep. Because of the vow I’d made.”
My loud voice echoed in the shower stall as her arms slowly let go of me, and I prepared for the blow coming. What sane woman would stay with a man like me, if she had a choice? That was one of the reasons I went against everything in me and didn't show her this side of my life, the one filled with crime and dirt.
The pakhan of the Bratva. Nightmares of captivity. Damaged goods.
She slid in the space between me and the wall, palming my face and making me look into her hazel eyes, which shone with love and understanding. Hot water poured from above us, heat slowly covering us, separating this moment from the outside world. She pressed my head down, and our lips touched softly at first, her tongue trailing at the seam of my lips until she finally entered my mouth, enveloping me in the kiss so hot yet so loving I was ready to fall down on my knees and cry.
Me, a man who promised never to do it ever again.
“It’s not your fault,” she whispered. “I accept you and this lifestyle. I’m not an outsider. My father is Don of the Cosa Nostra. I know the responsibility. Life with you won’t always be roses.” Her mouth perked up. “It will be guns and roses.” Frowning, because I didn't really get the joke, I decided not to dwell on it. “Just never hide your pain from me again, ever.” Pressing our foreheads together, we breathed in sync while her fingers caressed the back of my neck. “You accept me with all my flaws.”
“That’s because you don’t have any.”
She chuckled. “I do, but you accept them. Allow me to do the same.” Without waiting for my reply, she mashed our mouths once again, but this time the kiss turned deep, painful, and desperate, as though she couldn't get enough of me.
Wrapping her hair around my fist, I tugged on it hard. She whimpered, but at the same time hugged me closer, and only at that moment did my mind register her nakedness.
My beauty.
Her tanned skin glistened from the droplets of water, as her heavy and round, more-than-a-handful breasts rose and fell with her fitful breathing. Her narrow waist showcased her rounded hips and that fucking ass, which I could bite and touch forever. My girl had the best fucking body in the whole world. Leaning down, I gently licked and sucked her aroused pink, perky nipples as the blush spread over her, and she moaned, lacing her fingers once again in my hair.
I’d fucking keep it long forever. That wasn't the best part though, because when I looked into her beautiful eyes, I saw everything. Lust, love, adoration, longing, sadness, and even anger. They were so expressive that she didn't have to say anything for me to know her mood or what she felt. “The things you do to me, krasavica.”
“I want to be yours,” she whispered, and I groaned, because I wanted it too. Badly. I wanted her to be mine, only mine, and not to ever be touched by anyone else. My cock twitched and pushed against her stomach, while a moan escaped her. She moved her lips to my nipples and sucked on them, and fuck, that felt good. No one ever bothered to do that to me, and who knew males experienced pleasure from that as well. Being with her was like losing my virginity all over again. Nothing and no one ever felt like her, and never would. Before I could blink, she lowered hers
elf on her knees in front of my cock, and her hot breath was making my already painfully hard dick harder.
“Rosa, get up.” She wasn't ready, and God, as much as I wanted it, I didn't expect her to fall on her knees in front of me. My girl wasn't supposed to be on her knees, period.
“No,” she replied stubbornly. Enveloping my dick in her hands, she ran her thumb from the root to the tip where the precum was leaking out. She wiped it away, raised the index finger to her mouth, and sucked hard. The action brought up the image of my cock inside her, instead of my finger, and a growl escaped me. “You taste different, but good too.” Those words took me away from the haze of desire, and I froze.
“Different than who?’ I asked harshly, and tried to control my temper. The idea of her using that sexy mouth of hers on someone else made me want to kill the fucker. I prayed she wouldn't say his name.
Dom, stop. She is a virgin, plenty of firsts.
She looked up and there was mischief in her eyes; the little minx liked my jealousy all right. Then all thoughts flew from my mind as she took me into her mouth. Surrounding my hard-as-steel cock with wet heat, I wondered how I didn't come right there on the spot. Inhaling a deep breath, I watched as she licked the head and then lower, exploring the sensitive skin and veins. She closed her lips over me again, sucking deep and immediately gagging, so she let it go with a popping sound.
“Guide me?’ She looked up at me pleadingly and licked her lips. Well, hell, whoever the other fucker was, he clearly didn't take his time teaching her. Not that I had any experience to begin with, but I could sure as fuck guide her. “Put the length slowly inside… yeah, just like that. Be careful with your teeth. Take as much as you can, and only what feels good for you. Don’t ever do something you don't want, and stop anytime.”
She chuckled, sending vibrations down my spine. “I asked for guidance. Not a blow job manual.” She followed my instructions, her hand sliding down to the root of my dick and went up and down after her lips sucked on the head. She seemed almost fascinated with it, studying all the small details while learning the feel of it.
