The Russian: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance

by Renee Rose

  Yuri released her mouth and gave her a slight push away, toward Tommy, but he said, “No.” He released his belt buckle and pulled the length of leather out from his loops in a whoosh. “I will punish her.” He whapped the end of the belt in his palm, making her jump.

  She glanced from the furious, bleeding Tommy to the tattooed Russian coiling his belt around his fist and swallowed, fear turning her entire body cold.

  Yuri didn’t wait for Tommy’s agreement but shoved her face down over the side of the bed, yanking up her skirt.

  “Where. Are. Your. Panties?” Yuri sounded pissed.

  With her hands still taped behind her back, her face smashed into the bedspread, she turned her head to try to see him over her shoulder, but all she saw was the pale blue of his button-down, the dark grey slacks.

  “I lost them in the bathroom.” She only answered because the bellow in Yuri’s voice made him sound crazy jealous, as if she’d let Tommy take them off and suck her pussy or something.

  She didn’t want the insane Russian more angry than he already was.

  ***

  Thank fuck. He knew she’d had on panties earlier because he’d fucking felt them when he’d had his hand down her skirt. For one terrible second there, he thought Tommy had done something to her in the bathroom—raped her or tried to. But she’d been on the toilet. Without the use of her hands, they must have dropped or something.

  Tommy still stood there, bleeding from his nose and glowering, so Yuri got down to business immediately and let the belt swing. He whipped a line across the lower half of Lucy’s buttocks.

  She screamed and attempted to fly up from her position.

  He pinned her with a hand between her shoulder blades. “Get me her panties to stuff in her mouth,” he barked at Tommy.

  Tommy’s look of disgust was what he’d hoped for. The guy harrumphed but did as he was told, bringing the panties to Yuri, dangling from one finger like they disgusted him. “You’re a sick fuck, you know that?”

  He took the panties and wrestled them into Lucy’s mouth. “Da. That’s why you keep me around.”

  Tommy made another scoffing noise and left the room.

  He let out the breath he’d been holding since the moment Lucy made her escape attempt. He just might have this situation contained.

  He stared down at Lucy’s bare ass, crossed with one red stripe from his belt. She had a cute butt—muscular like a dancer’s. And while he wanted to give it all his attention, he’d rather it be with his hands. Or tongue. Or the slap of his loins as he gripped her hips and pounded her from behind.

  His cock surged against his zipper. Down, boy. This wasn’t play, and he definitely wouldn’t be getting off.

  Which was a damn shame, because the sight of this much of Lucy’s skin sent lust rocketing.

  But Tommy or Freddo might return any minute, and he needed to make sure they believed he was handling Lucy adequately.

  He held Lucy down by the nape and gave her two light swats with the belt.

  She squealed behind the panties, squeezing her cheeks together.

  “I told you to be good,” he clipped.

  She yelled at him through her gag, wriggling against his hold.

  “I can’t protect you when you go rogue.” He delivered another light swat, then leaned over to speak in her ear. “I have to whip you, Lucya. I’m sorry.” The tightness in his chest made his accent thicker.

  She wouldn’t forgive him for this. And the fact that it mattered to him, told him he’d been harboring some foolish hope about her.

  Like someday he’d be able to date her?

  Yeah, because mafiya enforcers turned undercover FBI agents are able to date like normal people.

  She blinked at him, eyebrows slashing down in anger.

  He traced one of them with his thumb. “It has to be me who punishes. Because if any of them mar your beautiful face, I’ll fucking kill them.”

  She went still, eyes on his face.

  “Trust me. My belt is preferable to broken bones.”

  A shiver ran through her.

  He dropped a kiss on her nape before he straightened. Not wanting Tommy or Freddo to come back and investigate the silence, he swung the belt and whipped her again, four times, eliciting muffled screams from her. Her beautiful lean legs danced beneath her, alternately straightening until she stood on her tiptoes and kicking up.

  “I’ll try to go easy on you.” He kept his voice low so they wouldn’t hear it from the other room. It fucking killed him to hurt her—his Lucya—even though this was normally his preferred form of foreplay.

  A tiny sob came from her but he steeled himself and tightened the buckle end of the belt around his fist. She muttered something that he couldn’t understand with the panties in her mouth.

  He swung the belt, striking the mattress beside her to test the sound. It wasn’t as loud as the crack of leather on bare skin, but it might work. He repeated the action five times, punishing the bed with the full strength of his arm.

  Lucy watched him with big eyes, her expression one part fear, one part wonder.

  But beating the bed didn’t fully solve his problem. He needed to leave her ass and legs red or the guys would know something was amiss. “Your turn,” he said grimly, taking aim.

  The ropey muscles of her back tensed.

  He held her bound wrists in one hand to pin her down as he smarted the lower half of her buttocks and the backs of her legs. He tempered his strength, keeping the strokes light and even, so her squeezing and quivering ass took on a general rosy shade, rather than welts.

  But why should his belt be so lucky? He wanted to touch her delectable skin himself. Wanted to know just how it would sound when his palm smacked that supple skin. He dropped the belt and just used his hand.

  Her rosy flesh was warm and soft, springy under the crack of his palm.

  And it was as satisfying as he’d expected.

  Too bad this wasn’t consensual. He’d love to take her over his lap and spank her until she screamed, then reward her with every form of pleasure he knew how to give.

  Unable to resist, he crouched down and laid a kiss on each of her heated cheeks.

  When he looked up, he saw tears glimmering in her eyes.

  Fuck.

  Seeing her cry fucking ruined him. She was supposed to be his sunlight. But it figured he’d dim her brightness. He’d always known he would, that’s why he’d never approached her.

  “Come here.” He lifted her up to stand, pulling her trembling form against his chest.

  She turned her face from him, unsuccessfully attempting to hold her body apart from his. He brushed the tears that had spilled from her face and pulled her panties from her mouth, tossing them on the floor.

  He palmed her heated ass and massaged away the hurt. “I’m sorry, Lucya.”

  She smelled like brightness, of summer fruit—no, candy. Her short skirt was still stuck up around her waist and he did nothing to remedy the problem, choosing instead to squeeze and rub her delectable backside. When he realized her bare pussy was in contact with his leg, his boner grew in his pants.

  She stiffened, feeling it. “You enjoyed that, didn’t you?”

  His gut twisted with regret at the wounded sound in her voice. “Only some parts.” Better to admit the truth—she already hated him. “But when I saw you were crying, it fucking gutted me. I prefer the women I whip to agree first.”

  She jerked her nape backward in his hand, putting enough space between them for her to look up into his face. Her lip curled in disgust. “There are women who like that?”

  Only because he took her rejection as a challenge did he allow the corners of his lips to lift slightly. He leaned close again. “Believe me, solnishko, if the circumstances had been different, I could’ve made you like it, too.”

  Uncertainty crossed her face, but her eyes dilated, nipples steepled into stiff points.

  So. Maybe she was kinky.

  “What is solnishko?”
The husky notes of her voice strummed every chord in his body.

  He lightened his touch on her ass, skimming his fingertips along the curves. “It means sunshine. That it what you have always been to me. An unexplained light in a world of blackness.”

  Chapter Three

  Well, damn.

  She’d thought he had a crush on her, but that was just…

  Stunning.

  She wanted to say creepy, but it didn’t fit. The Russian was intense, dark and brooding. But not creepy. He’d actually shown remarkable restraint for someone who’d been slightly obsessed with her.

  Maybe she would throw him a bone. Solidify his affection to make sure he got her out of this alive. She slid down in his grasp and lowered to her knees.

  His breath shuddered audibly.

  She bit his crotch through his pants. “Open them,” she commanded, the power at their change in position already coursing through her.

  He let out a long, slow curse; something in Russian that translated, nonetheless.

  She nipped again.

  His fingers rushed to undo the button and zipper and he shoved down his pants and boxer briefs enough for his long cock to spring free.

  She desperately wished she had the use of her hands, because she would employ them to make this the best freaking blowjob of his life. She’d have to rely on her mouth alone. She parted her lips and took just the first half of his head into her mouth, sucking on it like a lollipop.

  Yuri groaned. He gripped his cock with one hand to hold it still for her. “You don’t—” he rasped, breaking off when she took his cock all the way to the back of her throat.

  “You don’t have to—”

  “Jesus Christ, Yuri!” a male voice grunted from the doorway.

  Yuri’s hand suddenly tangled in her hair, shoving her roughly onto his cock, like he’d been forcing the thing the whole time.

  Which...kinda turned her on.

  She didn’t bother turning to see which of the two goons had become their audience. The shocked awe in his voice told her just how erotic a scene she made, her skirt still tangled around her waist, leaving her bare, whipped ass on full display while she sucked off their comrade. All she knew was that having an audience didn’t diminish her sense of power or her interest in continuing with her task. Nipples tight, pussy pulsing, she applied a strong suction, hollowing out her cheeks as she lifted her eyes to watch Yuri’s face.

  “Only you would have a girl sucking your cock minutes after you whipped her with your belt. Aren’t you afraid she’ll bite it off?”

  A muscle ticked in Yuri’s face, his brows drawn together tight, breath short. He reached a hand behind him and produced a pistol. “I have the gun.” His guttural voice strained, showing his rapid loss of control. She thought he might point it at her head, which actually made her pussy soak with excitement, but instead he lifted it to aim at his friend. “Get out.”

  His associate—Freddo, she thought—chuckled, and he must have left because Yuri sagged a bit.

  “Lucya. Lucya.”

  His version of her name was growing on her. The gun disappeared behind his back and he gripped her nape and pulled her back at the same time as he stepped away, removing his cock from her mouth. He hauled her up to stand. “I know what you’re doing.” The strain in his voice made it sound like pulling out of her mouth had nearly killed him. “You don’t have to. I gave you my word I would protect you. You don’t have to do this.”

  Her disappointment smacked her with the truth of the matter. I wanted to suck him off. Even after he’d just spanked her with his belt. She’d lied to herself about it being necessary. Her pussy flooded with heat.

  The whipping now seemed like some act of eroticism rather than violence.

  I could’ve made you like it, too.

  She suddenly had no doubt that was true, though she couldn’t picture any circumstance where she’d want to have a man’s belt slapped across her ass.

  So she dropped back to her knees and stuck her tongue out long, waiting for him to use her mouth as he pleased.

  “Fuck, Lucya. Fuck.” He fisted his cock and ran the head over her extended tongue, groaning. “Take it. Take it deep.” The guttural command made her pussy clench, muscles spasming with excitement.

  She took his cock into the back of her throat, gagging a little, but forcing herself to relax.

  “Good girl,” he crooned in his sexy accent while he rocked his hips forward and back, plunging in and out of her mouth like it was nothing more than a fuck hole.

  Never in a million years would she have thought she’d like this scenario—being used like an object, her hands bound behind her back, a man’s huge cock plunging so deep it choked her, but she didn’t just like it. She loved it. Only because it was Yuri. Crazy, intense, ecstatic Yuri. Hearing his ragged breaths, his groans as the movement became more jerky, made her own hips jerk forward on air. Seeing the raw need scrawled across his face gave her ego a rocket boost.

  “You want me to fuck you with my cock?” he asked thickly, still rocking in and out of her mouth. “To fuck that beautiful little pussy of yours?”

  She didn’t answer, not really sure if she wanted that. Sex was something different than being used this way.

  “I’ll fuck you hard and deep,” he promised, as if those words were supposed to turn a woman on. Strangely, they did. “I’ll make you come fast. Pinch that clitty until you come all over my cock.”

  She slid her tongue underneath his length, lapping him with it as she sucked with her cheeks.

  “Lucy, I have a condom,” he rasped. “Let me fuck that pussy.”

  The fact that she actually would have no control if he decided to fuck her at that point wasn’t lost on her. She was bound at his feet. He had a gun, not to mention hands that looked like they’d delivered death in a multitude of ways. Nothing would stop him from doing anything he wanted with her, but here he was, pleading. Yes, begging her to let him fuck her.

  She pulled her mouth off his cock with a pop and sat back on her heels, looking up.

  “Yes?” The excitement in his eyes almost made her smile, but he had her up and spun around before she could even shape her mouth.

  On the bed she went, onto her knees with her torso pressed down on the mattress, ass high in the air. It was the most humiliating pose he could have chosen, and yet somehow seemed exactly right. Yuri crawled up behind her. She heard the snap of foil and only a half-second later, the sheathed head of Yuri’s cock parted her lips.

  Patience, much?

  He rubbed it over her slit, sending spasms of pleasure shivering down her inner thighs. “Can’t wait,” he grunted, and plunged his cock into her tight channel.

  She whimpered and he held still, hands gripping her hips, but not moving her.

  “Sorry,” he muttered. “I’m too big. You’re so tight.” As promised, he reached around and sought out her clit, still not moving inside her as she adjusted to his size. The moment he rubbed the sensitive bundle of nerves, she moaned, wriggling, desperate for him to move.

  “Ready now, solnishko?”

  “Fuck me, Yuri,” she panted.

  “Jesus, fuck.” His fingers tightened on her hip and he withdrew and drove in again, all the while tapping her clit with two fingers, almost like he was slapping it.

  “You want it hard, baby?”

  Did she want it hard? She wasn’t so sure about that. She had to admit her previous sexual experience hadn’t been that varied or fulfilling. Hard didn’t sound like a good thing… but Yuri probably knew how to make hard good.

  Sweat beaded on her forehead as he bumped in and out of her, still slapping her clit. She wanted more of something. “Yeah,” she panted.

  He abandoned her clit and gripped both her hips, driving in deep. He seemed to know exactly what angle to stroke into her, because the head of his cock was hitting what must be the elusive G-spot that had previously meant nothing to her.

  In and out, he pummelled her ass with the
slap of his flesh, each time driving her closer to the brink of ecstasy.

  She came undone. Her toes curled, thighs spasmed, pussy gushed. She shrieked in alarm as Yuri continued to plunge down into her depths, drawing out her deepest animal self—one she’d never known existed.

  “Fuck…” she whispered, about as eloquent as he was now.

  “You like it hard, baby?”

  “Yeah,” she whimpered, still wanting more, despite the fact that it was already way too much.

  “Holy shit, Freddo wasn’t kidding.” The voice from the doorway only came through in a haze and Lucy didn’t care in the slightest that they had an audience. In fact, she welcomed it, some unknown exhibitionist inside her whooped and swung her panties around her finger, loving being the center of the show.

  “Getthefuckout,” Yuri growled.

  After a whistle and a chuckle, the door clicked shut.

  She arched her ass to Yuri, eyes rolling back in her head as he continued to rock her world with each skilled stroke of his cock.

  “Who knows how to fuck your pussy, Lucya?”

  Oh Jesus, really? Was this some kind of gangster pride thing where she had to say his name while he fucked her?

  She tried to ignore him but he changed the motion, adding a swing and sliding her hips up to meet his. Her cry sounded like complete panic. And maybe panic had taken hold; the loss of control, the sheer desire and need for completion overpowering all other mental or bodily function.

  “You want to come, Lucya?”

  “Y-yes,” she gasped.

  Somehow he kept up the motion but also still managed to reach around and pinch her clit—just a squeeze, and then he released it. “Whose cock are you going to come all over?”

  “Yours!” she shouted, no hesitation this time, not when she was so. Damn. Close.

  He squeezed and released her clit again. “Say my name, baby.”

  “Yuri! Yuri’s cock, oh God, please, yes!”

  He squeezed and held, and she spasmed around his manhood like her life depended on pulling it deeper.