The Bratva’s Stolen Bride

by Cole, Jagger

  But suddenly, her dazed smile drops. Her eyes widen in fear, and she’s scrambling off of me, gasping.

  “Who the fuck—!”

  “Hang on—”

  She lunges for her phone, I’m sure to call the police. But I’m faster. I close the distance between us and yank the phone from her hand. She goes to scream again, but I grab her, pull back into my chest, and wrap a hand around her mouth.

  I groan. This should not be this arousing. But feeling her squirm against me, and smelling her hair in my face again, and feeling her wet lips against my palm is having an effect on me. I quickly try and shove it down, though. I lean into her ear.

  “Stop,” I rasp. “Just stop. I’m not here to hurt you.”

  She stiffens, panting.

  “Viktor—” I frown. “Fiona sent me.”

  She stops moving. Slowly, I pull my hand away. Zoey pulls away and whirls to glare at me. “What?”

  “Fiona, your friend.”

  “I know who my friend is,” she mutters. Her eyes narrow at me. “Who the fuck are you?”

  I could make up a name or some shit. But what’s the point?

  “Lev,” I growl. “My name is Lev.”

  My eyes slide over her, and I groan to myself. She’s wearing a short, silky pink robe—like a wrap-around kimono thing. Her legs are bare up to mid-thigh, and the two hard points poking through the fabric pulled across her pert little tits suggest a lack of a shirt or bra. Her long blonde hair tumbles over one shoulder, and creamy skin draws me in like a moth to a candle.

  A hunger burns in me, but I grit my teeth and try and tamp it out. That is not why I’m here.

  She frowns. “What are you, Russian?”

  “Yes.”

  She swallows. Her eyes dance over me. “And how the hell do you know my friend?” She frowns. “Are you from New York?”

  “She…” I sigh. Shit, that’s right. Currently, Fiona is technically Viktor’s captive—collateral for a debt her father is failing to pay on. I suddenly remember Viktor mentioning that Fiona’s told people she knows that she’s on a job interview in New York.

  I sigh and roll my eyes. “Da. Yes.”

  “Yes, you’re from New York?” She says, accusation in her tone.

  Christ, this is going to start spiraling into more lies. I don’t need to mention that Fiona’s a captive of a Bratva kingpin. But I don’t have to lie about myself.

  “I’m from here. I work for Fiona’s… boss.” I frown. “Potential boss.”

  Her eyes drop to where my jacket is pulled back, the gun visible in its holster. I close it quietly, but her gaze moves to the visible tattoos at my neck and peeking out at my wrists from under the sleeves my jacket. She swallows thickly, and her eyes widen with recognition.

  Yeah, anyone who’s ever watched Eastern Promises or any of the John Wick movies knows what bratva tattoos look like. She knows what I am.

  “What are you…” She wets her lips nervously. “What are you doing here?”

  “You mentioned to Fiona that someone was snooping around; making you nervous.”

  She frowns. “I did?”

  “An older man. Someone who was bothering you.”

  “Oh, yeah, I…” She shrugs. “Yeah, I did.” Her brow furrows. “So, what, she told her potential boss that?”

  “Yes.”

  Zoey frowns. “And her boss told you to come?”

  “Da.”

  She arches one brow. “Fiona’s in New York to interview with a law firm.”

  Sure, okay.

  “Yes.”

  She sucks on her teeth. “The law firm works with the Russian maf—” her lips clamp shut.

  “Yes,” I say quietly. “They do.”

  She nods. “Oh,” she whimpers. “Got it. So you’re here to… what, exactly?”

  “Check on you. Make sure you are okay.”

  She smiles quietly.

  “You’re alone?”

  She nods.

  “Your back door was open.”

  “Shit, really?”

  “And your side gate.”

  She winces. “Yeah, it sticks sometimes, and I forget to push it shut.”

  “You should.”

  “I know.” She shrugs. “It’s a pretty safe neighborhood.”

  “It’s a rich neighborhood,” I growl. “That does not make it safe.”

  She nods and crosses her arms over her chest. “I’ll be more careful.”

  “No one’s been prowling around?”

  She smiles and shakes her head. “No. I’m sorry, it might have been a miscommunication. The man who was being a creep was just texting me inappropriate things. I really don’t think he’d ever just come by or anything.”

  I nod. But I still glance around, trying to spot any threats.

  “You scared the fuck out of me, you know.”

  I turn back and shrug. “You screamed.”

  Zoey blushes and nods at the ladder still skewed against the wall.

  “Yeah, I was trying to hang these lights…” she gestures to a string of thin-wire lights—like Christmas strands or something you’d see in one of those lifestyle Instagram posts.

  “Barefoot, standing on the very top of the ladder?” My gaze lands on the open bottle of wine on the kitchen counter and the mostly empty glass next to it. “While drinking?”

  She blushes deeper. “Not my smartest move.” She eyes me, a pink glow flushing her cheeks. “Your name is Lev?”

  I nod.

  “I’m Zoey.”

  “I know.”

  She rolls her eyes as she turns to her wine. “Of course you do.” She takes a sip and glances back at me. “Well, I’m safe, Lev.”

  “Looks that way,” I growl. Her tongue wets her lips. Fuck, even the air between us seems warmer.

  “Anyways, lock your doors and gates,” I grunt. I turn to leave.

  “Hey, do you want a drink or something?

  I freeze in my steps. The simple answer is yes. I want a thousand drinks with her. I want to drink her, actually, down to the last sticky sweet drop. I half turn to let my eyes burn into her.

  This is a mistake. I’m only enough to know that.

  “I—”

  “One drink?” She smiles, biting her lip.

  Shit. The fuse has already been lit. And this bomb is going to blow up in both of our faces.

  “You have vodka?”

  She laughs. “Really?”

  I smirk. “White wine tastes like sugar to me.”

  “Yeah, I think I have some in the freezer.” She laughs musically.

  “What?”

  “I mean, you’re Russian. It’s just funny that you’re asking for vodka.”

  “That’s me,” I grunt. “Mr. cliché.”

  She glides over to the freezer and opens it up. Cool air billows over her as she reaches in for the bottle. She turns and reaches for a glass up on a shelf. I groan as her robe slip up so high that I can see the soft under-curves of her tight ass—the hint of white lace across it.

  “Ice?”

  All I can do is shake my head. “No. Thank you.”

  She smiles again and turns to pour the vodka. My eyes drop to the way the cold air has made her nipples even harder beneath the silk.

  Christ, what am I, a horny teenager?

  I walk over to her as she holds up the glass to me.

  “Spasibo,” I grunt.

  She grins. “Spasibo!” She clinks her wine to my glass, and I chuckle.

  “Spasibo is thank you.”

  She blushes. “Shit,” she giggles. “I thought it was cheers.”

  “That’s vashe zdorov’ye.”

  “Ah, well,” she smiles mischievously. “Vashe zdorov’ye, then.” She frowns. “How was that?”

  “Ochen’ khorosho. Spasibo za napitok.”

  She looks at me curiously with a small grin on her lips. “Uh…”

  “Shit, sorry. I thought you were Russian for a moment.”

  She rolls her eyes, bl
ushing. I grin.

  What the fuck am I doing, flirting with her? This is a very, very bad idea. I know I need to walk away. But I’m pretty fucking sure the devil himself couldn’t drag me away now.

  “I said ‘very good’,” I grunt.

  She grins. “Well thank you, Lev.”

  We both take a drink, look at right at each other. The heat of the room grows thicker—crackling with energy. And I know damn well what’s happening. I know, just like I know I should put the glass down and walk or run back out that back door.

  This isn’t a girl flirting at a bar. This isn’t a first date. This is a girl I was merely suppose to “check up” on. This is the best friend of Viktor’s… well, whatever Fiona is.

  I realize my glass is empty. So is hers.

  “Do you, uh…” she blushes. “Do you want another drink?”

  It’s like there’s a rope around us both, and it’s tightening. It’s squeezing us closer, and there’s no escape. Nor do I want one.

  “Da,” I growl.

  She swallows. Her lips suck between her teeth, and I groan. It’s so fucking tempting. It hooks my gaze and won’t let go. And I don’t know how much longer I can be here without breaking.

  I’m not the one-night type. I don’t do hookups. I don’t sleep with women I just met and have no interest in doing so.

  But this is something different. This is like I’m drowning in her, and I want to dive under and never come back up for air.

  She turns and walks over to the freezer. She opens it and pulls the bottle out, turning to head back to the kitchen island. The freezer door shuts as she steps towards me. And suddenly, I’m looking at her absolutely perfect, bare tits.

  Zoey gasps, turning bright red as she whirls away. She curses, yanking at the edge of her robe that’s caught in the freezer door. She yanks it free and quickly hugs the thin silk back around herself. Her shoulders heave. Even though she’s half turned away from me, I can see the pink on her through the curtain of blonde.

  But really, all I can see is what I’ve just seen. I set my glass down. I move around the island towards her in a daze. She turns, gasping quietly as I move towards her.

  “I—”

  She whimpers when I yank the bottle of vodka out of her hand. I yank the cap out with my teeth, spit it free, and take a drink. I need it, or else I might explode. I set it down, and she breathes heavily as she looks up at me.

  “That—that was an accident,” she breathes.

  “You’re clumsy tonight.”

  “Yeah,” she whispers. Her tongue wets her lips. Her cheeks flush. Her nipples strain against the silk of the robe. “Good thing you were here,” she says thickly.

  “Good thing.”

  She swallows. You’d need a fucking chainsaw to cut the tension between us. Her soft pink tongue slides out again to run across those plump, full lips. And suddenly, I break.

  I groan as I crash into her, and my lips crush to hers. Zoey moans deeply. Her hands slide to my chest, gripping my dress shirt as I slam her back against the fridge. She moans, panting into my mouth as my tongue demands hers.

  I snarl into her mouth, my body throbbing with lust. I’m harder than I’ve ever been in half a second.

  Zoey whimpers as her hands yank at my jacket. She shoves it off my shoulders and down my arms. I toss the jacket away, and my big hands go to her waist. I squeeze, and she trembles. My fingers slide into the opening of her robe, and I yank it open.

  Zoey gasps sharply. My eyes drop slowly, drinking in the creaminess of her skin—the full swell of her tits, the pink, hard nipples capping them. She trembles, breathing quickly. I push the robe off her shoulders. It drops to pool in a puddle of silk at her feet, leaving her in just that tiny little pair of white lace panties.

  I grow as my eyes devour her. My hands slide back to her waist, and they tighten. A savage desire burns in me. She’s so fucking young and innocent, and I want to swallow her whole. I want her all for myself, forever.

  My mouth crushes back to hers. She moans and sinks against me, her nails dragging down my arms. I slip a hand between her legs, and her breath catches. I drag a thick finger over her little cunt through the lace, and I start to rub. I center on the hard nub of her clit, and she cries out. Her legs shake, her nails dig into me. Her head falls back against the fridge, and my mouth finds her neck.

  I bite and suck as I yank the panties down. They tangle at her knees, but I don’t care. This isn’t romance. I’m not going to carry her to a bed and lay her down before I make love to her.

  I’m going to fuck the shit out of her, right here against the fridge.

  My finger rubs her clit faster and harder. She cries out and moans. And suddenly, she slams her mouth to mine. Her legs clamp shut around me, and she screams into my lips as she comes. I keep my hand there between her thighs, teasing her clit through her climax.

  She pulls away panting and looks up at me. Her lip catches in her teeth coyly. She looks so innocent and inexperienced, that suddenly I freeze.

  “How old are you, lastachka?” I growl.

  She swallows. “Twenty-two.”

  Thank fucking God.

  I crush my mouth to hers again, and my finger sinks into her. She moans deeply, pushing her hips into me. Her hands start to pop the buttons on my shirt. She pushes it off my shoulders and her eyes drop to my tattoos. She whimpers.

  I pull my hand from her to shrug my shirt off. Hers fall to my belt. She yanks it open, panting. Her hands shake as she pulls my zipper down and starts to shove my pants down. Then she stops and looks up at me with those big blue eyes.

  “What do you want me to do?” she breathes softly.

  Fuck, I love taking control. And I love that she wants me to. I snarl as my hand slides up into her hair. I grab it in a fist, and she moans.

  “I want you on your fucking knees,” I growl. “With those pretty lips wrapped around my cock.”

  She gasps, looking shocked and scandalized. But also aroused. She suddenly kisses me, hungrily. When she pulls away, she starts to drop to her knees. She looks nervous as she kneels before me and slips her fingers into the waist of my boxers. She pulls them down, and my cock springs free.

  Zoey gasps, loudly. She opens her mouth as her eyes widen on my thick, rock-hard dick.

  “You’re…” she swallows. “You’re really big…”

  My hand slides back into her hair. She trembles, moaning as she wets her lips. She leans closer and kisses my crown. I groan. Her wet lips part and slide down around my crown. The pleasure is like nothing I’ve ever felt.

  Her lips nibble and suck at my head before she moves down my shaft, kissing my dick. Her tongue darts over it before she moves back to my crown. She sucks me inside again, and her mouth slides down my cock. I hiss in pleasure.

  She doesn’t take me very deep, and I can feel her gag a little. But she keeps going, sucking and dancing her tongue on me. Part of me wants to stay here in her mouth and explode down her fucking throat.

  But I want so much more.

  I groan as I pull her away. She looks worried as she glances up at me.

  “Was that…” She bites her lip. “I can go deeper.”

  I just pull her close and kiss her hard. “My turn,” I snarl into her lips.

  She moans as I spin her and press her against the cool metal of the Sub-Zero fridge. I push her hair away and nibble at her neck. My hands slide around to cup her small but firm tits, teasing her nipples.

  My hands slide down her sides as I kiss down her spine. She’s panting and moaning like she’s aching for me. I kiss down over her tight, silky ass. I grip a firm cheek in each big hand and spread her lewdly open for my gaze. She moans as I breath over her, my eyes sliding over her tight little asshole and then down to her glistening, dripping wet pink pussy.

  I move in, and I groan as I get my very first taste of her. She tastes like fucking heaven. I bury my face between her thighs from behind, plunging my tongue into her. Zoey cries out in pleasure. She
moans and pushes back into me. Her toes curl and twist on the floor, her legs straining against the panties tangled at her knees.

  I drag my tongue back and forth over her lips, centering on her clit. I suck at it, mercilessly teasing it with my tongue as my fingers dig into her skin. I spread her ass wide and slide my tongue higher. I swirl it across her little hole, and she squeals in pleasure.

  I move back to her clit and suck. My tongues dances over it, and I groan into her as I devour her little cunt.

  “Lev!” She moans. “Lev! I—”

  Her toes drag across the floor. She’s got her cheek to the fridge, panting and whimpering against the metal as I demand the orgasm from her pussy. I snarl into her, sucking her clit even harder and darting my tongue over it. She suddenly jolts, and she screams as she starts to come.

  Zoey moans as she floods my mouth with her cum. I groan, drinking every drop and going back for more. I devour her, plunging my tongue into her as she quivers for me.

  I stand and kick my boots off. My pants and boxers follow. She starts to turn, but I growl and grab her fast. I pin her to the fridge and use my knee to spread her legs.

  “Oh, fuck yes,” she breaths. She pants against the fridge, her breath fogging the brushed metal.

  I grab my swollen cock, and I ease the head against her lips. Zoey stiffens for a second. But I can literally feel her desire dripping over my shaft. I growl as I push into her.

  “Shit,” she chokes.

  My hands go to her waist. I grab her tightly as I slide deeper. Christ, she’s so fucking tight. She’s impossible tight, actually, even though she’s also slick and dripping wet. I groan, cramming my fat cock into her hot little cunt. Inch after inch slowly pushes into her as she moans and writhes against me. When I’m a little more than three-quarters in, I pause.

  “Are you—”

  My abs clench, and I thrust my hips forward.

  “Oh my God,” she chokes. She moans, sagging against the fridge. “Oh, holy fuck you’re so deep…”

  I sink the last half inch into her, and then she’s all mine—every inch of me buried deep inside. My hands clench her hips. I slide out, and then I slide right back in. I groan, biting her shoulder as I slide out again, ramming my cock back in a second later.

  Zoey whines in pleasure. She twists and writhes for me, reaching back to rake her nails over my hip. Words like “harder,” “faster,” and “deeper” spur me on. I lose all control, and I start to fuck her like a goddamn beast. I rut into her like a fucking savage. I pound her little pussy until she’s creaming all over me and screaming my name as she comes all over my balls.