Made Men 5: Dmitri's Denial (Siren Publishing Everlasting Classic)

by Dixie Lynn Dwyer

  She saw his face in her mind and shivered. She wouldn’t be able to fight him. He was resourceful, evil, and filled with hatred. She hated him. She didn’t want to be his woman, his whore, his obsession. She cried and then gasped as she felt the bed dip and a hand land on her hip. She turned over quickly, shocked to see Dmitri there. Immediately a scowl formed on his face, and he placed his arm over her waist, then reached out, and stroked the tears away.

  “I’m here now. He won’t ever get his hands on you,” he said to her.

  That thick Russian accent had the ability to encompass her whole body. She shook her head, though. She couldn’t fall into the safety of this man’s arms and all he represented.

  “No, Dmitri.”

  He placed a finger over her lips.

  “No one threatens me and lives.”

  She swallowed hard, and he trailed that finger along her robe and the gap in the front.

  “I’m your protector now. I put out the word that you are under the protection of Dmitri Sanclare and Nicolai Merkovicz. His games are over.”

  More tears fell, and she sniffled.

  “It won’t be that easy. It will enrage him. He’ll go after my friends, the family, everyone I care about. You have to call it off. Please, Dmitri. Just leave me alone and let it be.”

  “No. I know that it won’t be easy, but it cuts his resources, lets others know whom he foolishly chose to fuck with. Enough about him. There are things you and I need to work on before we take the next steps.”

  “The next steps?” she asked, feeling confused as he lowered himself closer.

  He cupped her cheek and chin, then pressed his lips to hers and kissed her.

  She lay there shocked at the fact that Dmitri was in her bedroom, taking over her protection despite her demands to Fedarro. Dmitri was executing his power.

  All other thoughts ceased as he deepened the kiss, plunged his tongue in exploration, then lifted, and pressed between her legs, joining her on the bed.

  He was thick, muscular, and so much larger than her. It aroused Rayanna instantly and way too much.

  He released her lips, pressed the material of the robe up her thighs as he knelt between her legs. He stroked her skin back and forth from knee to upper thigh, nearly to her groin. She couldn’t close her legs, not with his thighs between them.

  “Dmitri, we shouldn’t. He threatened my friends. He warned me to stay away from you. Away from all men. I’m scared, Dmitri. Giada could have died. She could have been raped.”

  He stared at her and eased his palms up the material of the thick robe. She saw the gun in the holster on his side, against the navy-blue dress shirt and black dress pants. His intense expression and the determined look in his eyes put every inch of her body on alert. Her breasts swelled, her nipples hardened, and her pussy ached to feel his touch. Then he undid the tie to the robe, and her lips parted as she sighed softly.

  “Dmitri, are you listening to me?” she asked him. Her voice cracked.

  “No one threatens me and lives, or someone I care about deeply.”

  She swallowed hard.

  “I want to see what is going to belong to me and me only.”

  She felt the tears in her eyes, the back and forth battle in her head to accept him, embrace this control and protection such a powerful man was offering or resist it out of fear of Puento.

  “I hardly know you. I don’t sleep around, Dmitri. It’s been over two years for me. There are things,” she rambled.

  He firmly stared at her as the tie came undone.

  “Because you were meant for me, and your two years of celibacy were for my pleasure and yours, leading up to today.”

  The robe parted, and she inhaled. His eyes darkened, and he licked his lips.

  He didn’t say a word. He first stroked the side where she had been cut, which was still red. He narrowed his eyes at that, then looked at her, and must have read her expression.

  “Never again. Never shall that man do harm to you.” He reached up and cupped her breasts. “Gorgeous, so perfect,” he whispered and lowered to lick the tip of one.

  “Oh God, Dmitri. I’m not ready.”

  “Tonight I’ll get you used to my touch, to accepting my control, to my protecting you. Then we work on building trust.” He trailed a finger along the design of her floral tattoo over her hip and to her groin.

  “You enjoy a little pain?” he asked, sliding a thumb along the ink that grazed her groin and the thin, sensitive skin.

  She tilted her hips up, and he slid the finger closer to her cunt. Her breathing grew rapid.

  “So wet already. I haven’t even tasted you yet.”

  “Oh my God, I can’t believe this. I should be pushing you away. Not allowing you to just come in here and—”

  She exhaled, and he used his thumb to brush back and forth over her clit before lowering farther and sucking her clit into his mouth. He slid his palms up her ribs to her breasts and cupped both of them.

  He hummed against her pussy lips, making her cream a little more. She felt needy, desirable, and sexy as damn hell. Add in the gun that was sliding back and forth against her thighs as he ate her cream, massaged her breasts, and explored her fully in a possessive manner, and yeah, she was done for. She wasn’t going to resist him and say no to having sex. This was already too good and like nothing she’d ever felt before.

  * * * *

  Dmitri took his time with her. The sight of the tears, the fear in her eyes, and how defeated she looked affected him in more ways than he was ready to identify, never mind analyze. He took in the sight and feel of her. The scent of her perfume, how easily he made her come, and how perfectly sexy she was. That long platinum-blonde hair with tendrils scattered along the pillow made her look angelic. Her deep emerald eyes sparkled, and teardrops shimmered on her eyelashes, making her look feminine and in need of protection.

  “You’re exceptional, Yanna. Fit for a king.” He cupped a breast in his hand, unable to cup it fully. His dick hardened. He explored the tattoo she had with fingers, then tongue, and then moved down to the belly ring. “Sexy, sinful, a delicacy is what you are,” he said, then dipped his tongue into her cunt and worked her until she orgasmed and gripped his shoulders.

  “I want to see every inch of you.” He lifted, stood by the bed, and offered her his hand.

  “Dmitri?” she whispered.

  “Stand up. Take the robe fully off and show me what belongs to me,” he said to her.

  She slowly got up and hesitated only a moment until she locked gazes with him. He waited, wondering if she would accept this command, his authority over her body, her life, her everything. Slowly, as she stood there in front of him, she let her arms fall to her sides, and the thick black robe pooled to the floor.

  He reached out, took her hand, and had her step into the center of the room where the light was better.

  “Turn slowly for me. Like you did for Jaque backstage the night we met.”

  She shyly looked away, and he clutched her chin and forced her to look up into his eyes.

  “Do it because you accept my protection and, with it, my body and my bed.”

  Her eyes widened.

  “Do it.”

  He released her chin and stood there. Slowly she started to turn. He watched in awe and admiration as possessiveness and need filtered through to his soul. This was different. He knew it was foreign to any of his life experiences, and something warned him there was no turning back, yet he couldn’t resist.

  The curve of her shapely hips, the intricate, floral tattoo swirled over that hip from groin to ass…and what an incredible ass she had—round, firm, that sexy dip at the base of back and rear, so muscular and toned. She worked out, she remained fit, and he liked what he saw.

  He reached out and gripped her hips, then slid his palms up and down her waist and her ribs and then her upper thighs and ass. He massaged and then stroked along the crack.

  “Every part of you will be mine. Do you understand me, Y
anna?” he asked her, then pressed against her back, and kissed her neck.

  She tilted upward, giving him better access to her neck, her ear as he ran his other arm around her waist and used his palm to caress up to her breast and then to her throat. He held her there possessively while he used his other hand to smooth down to her cunt.

  His heart hammered inside of his chest when he found her sopping wet.

  “That’s right. Wet and ready for your man. I want you, Yanna. I want to claim you as my woman, mark you in every way, and protect you like you deserve.”

  “And when it’s over, then what?” she asked, her voice cracking.

  “When the time comes, we’ll see,” he told her, knowing it probably wasn’t what she wanted to hear, but he would remain in control. Nothing, no one, not even a woman, broke down that wall that kept him alive and ready for anything—even to kill.

  “You have an IUD, correct?” he asked.

  She tightened up.

  “How do you know that?” she asked him. She moaned as he stroked fingers faster into her cunt.

  He nipped her earlobe and sucked on it before he whispered to her. “I know everything, Yanna. No secrets. No hiding it from me. Before I make any serious decisions, I explore and research. Tonight is the beginning.” He then sucked her neck harder before bringing her closer to the bed and lowering her to it.

  “Hands flat, legs apart, and wait for me.”

  * * * *

  That accent, his hands, the controlling tone, the dominant attitude, and how he played her body like an instrument were too much to ignore and fight. She couldn’t believe she stood here, hands on the bed, legs spread, bent over the mattress while Dmitri Sanclare undressed behind her and prepared to claim her. She could feel her legs shaking and her heart pounding, and when she closed her eyes, flashbacks of Puento hit her vision.

  “No,” she whispered. Then he smoothed his hands along her skin, and his thick, long cock tapped against her thigh. He stroked her hair from her face.

  “What is it, Yanna? What do you fear?” he asked her, binding her hair in his fist as he kissed softly along her skin. She tilted her head back, and he licked along her neck. “What do you need?”

  “Take it away, Dmitri. Take away the memories of the pain, of his touch, and the images embedded in my head. Please, Dmitri.”

  “Fuck,” he whispered.

  She gasped as he turned her around and kissed her tenderly from the corner of her mouth to the center, then to the other corner, and along her cheek and jaw before he lifted her with one arm around her waist and lowered her onto her back. It seemed his idea of taking her for the first time from behind had been changed by her words, her begging for him to make her forget. He slid his hands along her arms and pressed them above her head. Her breasts pushed forward only for him to suck and then tug on the nipples.

  “Oh, Dmitri. Dmitri.” She felt the tip of his cock at her entrance.

  He held her gaze as he remained restraining her wrists above her head. That fierce expression…cold black eyes gazed over her body and then back into her eyes. The bold black tattoos along his shoulders and chest were wild and like nothing she ever had seen before. The words were not in English—perhaps they were Russian or Ukrainian. She didn’t know, but they looked ancient and as though they weren’t done in a tattoo parlor, but perhaps some prison cell. She had heard stories about the Russian and Ukrainian mobsters and their violent lives and what got them into the criminal business. She saw the scars on his chest, a long, thick one with raised red skin along his ribs. A knife wound? Two additional holes under his pectoral muscles. Gunshot wounds? She gulped, imagining what this man had possibly gone through in his life, the hardness, the near-death experiences, and the enemies he had.

  He started to slide his cock between her folds. He didn’t say a word, just stared at her, clenched his teeth as if he didn’t want to pound into her, yet something made her want just that.

  “Please, Dmitri. I want it, too. I need it.”

  “Then you’ll get it.”

  He thrust into her all the way, and she came. Just like that, with his very thick, hard cock thrusting into her, she lubricated the additional strokes, moaned, and grunted from the depth of them. In and out he stroked.

  She saw the cords of muscles in his forearm above her head while he gripped both wrists with one hand and held them there. His other hand he used to cup her breast and grip her shoulder as he thrust his hips harder so that his cock penetrated deeper into her pussy. She lost her breath. He was lethal in every way. He would always be in control. Always a boss, a master, a powerhouse that both aroused her and intimidated her. She creamed some more, his control of her body and the thickness of his cock too much to handle.

  When he released her arms, she kept them above her head. Something told her that Dmitri would like it.

  “That’s right. You’re mine.” He gripped her hips and moved faster, thrust deeper into her body. When he lowered and kissed her, she couldn’t resist running her fingers through his hair and then caressing along the thick cords of muscle on his forearms, arms, and shoulders. She countered his thrusts, and then he rolled to his back, making her take position above him.

  “Ride me. Take from me what you need to put him out of your mind forever.”

  She rocked her hips, gripped onto his shoulders until she felt the next orgasm building.

  She closed her eyes and thrust harder, faster over him, feeling his cock thicken in her tight channel. Never like this. Never had she felt anything so powerful and electrifying.

  The stern expression on his face was all Dmitri, as were the way he looked at her breasts bouncing with her thrusts and how he used his thumbs to stroke her hip bones and then counter thrust.

  She must have been moving too slowly because Dmitri grunted and rolled her to her back and lifted up.

  He spread her thighs wider and slowed down the pace a moment. He watched his cock disappear into her pussy as he slid a palm from her mound, playing with her pussy lips as he dipped his cock in and out of her channel. Then he smoothed his palm up along her belly to her chest.

  His hands were so big, so firm and sexy. He pinched her nipple, tugged on it hard, making her gasp and moan. She lifted her ass, and he rose to his knees, pulled her thighs up against his thighs, and began to stroke faster, deeper into her. He nudged higher until her shoulder blades were the only part of her on the bed, and he went wild with his strokes and thrusts.

  She moaned and tried remaining quiet as the orgasm hit her, but then Dmitri’s hit him, and he growled low and deep and came inside of her. When he lowered her back to the bed, he slid over her, keeping her head and face between his forearms. He kissed along her cheeks, her throat and neck, then down her chest before lifting up and pulling her into his arms. He caressed her hair and calmed his breathing.

  “Rest. It’s going to take several times tonight to ease my mind.”

  Chapter 6

  “It’s over, Puento. Dmitri Sanclare issued protection over Rayanna Fiorre. Everyone is going crazy. They’re talking about the potential of power to the Fiorre family if Dmitri claims her as his woman,” York St. James told him over the phone.

  “Bullshit. This isn’t fucking over. I will get her, and I will fucking destroy the Fiorre family’s operations along with Dmitri’s.”

  “You’re out of your mind. I’m out. I’m done.” St. James disconnected the call.

  Puento raged. This wasn’t over. It was just getting started.

  He placed the phone call.

  “Take her out. Kill her in the hospital,” he said and ended the call.

  “Maybe that will get you to realize, Rayanna, that I own you. You’ll pay for fucking that Russian asshole. You’ll pay for the rest of your life as my slave.”

  * * * *

  “You shouldn’t be here,” Giada said to Andreas. She was sitting up, preparing to be discharged anytime now. He stared at her and reached out to clutch her chin. The scowl on his face brough
t on a surge of emotions she didn’t want to face and needed to resist. Her uncle had sworn at them, told them to leave her alone, and made her promise that she wouldn’t speak to them again. She felt confused, angry, and she didn’t know what to do.

  “I’m here because I care about you. I’m here to protect you.”

  “I can take of myself. My uncle is going to be coming by to bring me home.”

  “I don’t want to cause you more upset or problems with him, but the man doesn’t know what the fuck he’s talking about.” She remained straight-faced. Her uncle didn’t know anything about this family, these people, her friends, and he made accusations, called them names and ranted, making everyone leave her alone here. She just wanted to go home and rest, then get back to work and move on.

  When the door to the room opened and a man she didn’t recognize came in, Andreas moved into action. As the man drew his gun, Andreas drew his. Shots were fired, and she threw herself to the left and off the bed, landed on the floor with a thump, hurting her shoulder and screaming. It happened so fast, and she covered her face and head with her hands. Then the room erupted in chaos. Alarms blared. It was nuts.

  “Are you okay? Are you hit?” Andreas demanded to know as he lifted her up slowly and into his arms, onto his lap.

  “Is she okay? What the fuck?” another man yelled.

  “Where were you? Why did you let him in here? He was sent to kill her,” Andreas yelled.

  “He was dressed like a nurse. We thought he worked here. Fuck, we didn’t know.”

  “Well, now you fucking know. No one is allowed even close to her except for us. No one.”

  She blinked her eyes opened and looked up at Andreas. He was red in the face, the veins by his temples pulsated, and his teeth were clenched.

  “Where are you hurt?” he asked her.

  “I landed on my shoulder.”

  He eased the shirt she had just put on off her shoulder and saw the redness there. “You’ll be bruised up for sure. How about your head? You didn’t hit your head again, did you?”