Nicolai Powerful: An Over The Top Alpha Powerful older man younger woman insta-love romance (Bad Russian Book 6)

by Alice May Ball

  Tall and elegant, she wears a cream suit, perfectly cut for her. She has the figure of a model. And the poise to go with it. In her late twenties, she’s proved herself to be quite the financial genius, as well as having phenomenal management skills.

  “Nicolai,” she smiles, extending her hand. I take her long, beautifully manicured fingers. Her handshake is warm. Warmer than I’m expecting.

  “Vodka?” she offers. “It’s perfectly chilled, and very rare. I had it brought in especially for you.”

  “It’s thoughtful of you, Helena.”

  She leads me down into the well, toward the tables. “I have Iranian beluga caviar, too. Also chilled.” She squeezes her shoulders and smiles.

  “As I said, it’s thoughtful of you, Helena. But I had breakfast. And I have work to do.”

  She smiles. “Sit, please, Nicolai.” She pours two shots of vodka. “You like my office suite?” She asks, handing me a shot glass.

  “It’s very extravagant, Helena. Elegant, and luxurious.” She raises a glass of vodka and tips the small shot back. I put my glass on a coaster.

  “In the other section, through here,” she says, indicating the door that she came through, “I have a Whirlpool hot tub with the same marvelous view over the city. It’s big enough for two.” Her eyes gleam, darkly mischievous, “Actually, it’s big enough for three or four. If everybody is… friendly.”

  She sits, on a low chair on the side of the table. Close. The skirt of her suit has risen high up her sculpted thigh. It reveals a well-shaped thigh, sheathed in stocking.

  She leans forward, giving me a view of her breasts. Fine specimens. Even without a bra.

  “Helena, what is it you asked me in to discuss?” May as well hear her out first.

  “Oh, Nicolai,” she smiles, making a shy, self-conscious tip of her head. Looking up at me she says, “It’s a staffing issue. A resources matter. Quite trivial, really, only, I think it could be a little delicate.”

  “You want to talk to me about a resource issue, Helena? I’m not the fucking HR Department.” I’m about to stand.

  “Oh, but it is quite delicate.” She fixes me with the sparkle in her eye. She is scheming something.

  “Nicolai, you and I, we’re of the same… stock. We’re cut from the same cloth. Old families, long established. We know the ways of the world,” she leans forward, confidentially lowering her voice, “I feel sure that we’re going to be a great partnership.” Her eyes are looking me over, in a way that suggests something much more than an alliance.

  “Come to the point, please, Ms. Martenssen.”

  Her smile is wide and predatory. “Oh, direct,” she says, straightening in her seat. “Taking charge. Yes. I like that, Nicolai. I like that a lot.”

  She stands. Strides around the table. Then comes to sit by the side of me. Her expensive perfume can have a giving effect. Sweet and very strong. Floral, rich and heady. She sits close.

  “That intern. The one who did so well with the client introductions. All of that stuff with the website. Very clever.”

  I look in her eye, wondering where she is headed with this.

  “Her father is quite a big noise in finance. Don’t know if you knew. He has a venture capital firm of some considerable size. They’re a major customer here. She may not be aware of that.”

  I’m becoming impatient. She leans forward again. “She says, well… Never mind what she says or she doesn’t say, the intern. It’s just—how to put this delicately. It seems there’s a possibility that she’s been in a compromised position. In a position with someone very senior. The company could be exposed to a risk. I don’t know whether she intends to bring a complaint. But if she did, it could be very damaging.” She’s looking hard into my eyes. “If it got out, or, heaven forbid if it got to the courts, the banks licenses….” Her head shakes. “Very, very dangerous situation. I imagine she could be paid off, found another situation. Perhaps somewhere on the West Coast. Would you think?”

  I stand. Helena Martenssen takes a deep breath through her nose. Her eyes gleam.

  “Well, Ms. Martenssen. You’re right, of course. We do have a serious staff problem, and there are limited ways that it can be solved. Delicately, as you say. But effectively. And finally.” I head over to her desk and lift the internal phone. “May I? Do you mind?”

  I call Stephen Crowder, on the ground floor. “Mr Crowder. Would you come up to the executive floor please. Yes, right away. Come to Ms. Martenssen’s suite.”

  Helena stands. Comes toward me at the desk. The view from here really is spectacular. The park stretching away just a couple of blocks on the side. It must be marvelous at night.

  “These things can be hard sometimes,” her husky voice is low and confidential, “but it’s vital we always handle these things correctly. I knew you would agree.”

  “Oh, absolutely Ms. Martenssen.” There’s a knock at the door. I let her invite Crowder in. It’s her office.

  I say, “Thank you for coming so quickly, Stephen. I need you to escort Ms. Martenssen from the premises. Immediately. With the minimum of fuss, naturally. No need for her to be embarrassed. She will not be allowed to take anything with her, of course. Nothing but her bag. She will need to surrender her company mobile and her laptop, as well as her keys to the company car. And the Hamptons retreat. Her work here has come to a rather sudden conclusion.”

  Helena Martenssen’s face is a picture. There’s a side of a predatory sadist that always wants to be the prey, as well as the hunter. I see a trace of perverse satisfaction that she has been defeated. Humiliated.

  Crowder asks her, “Will you come quietly Ms. Martenssen?”

  She looks up and down. He’s big, and still very fit. “I haven’t decided.”

  I’ll leave them to work that out. “Crowder, when you’re done, would you collect the keys to the Hampton’s retreat from all of the other directors, too, please. And anyone else who has access.”

  As he takes her away, I’m making a decision. It’s the decision I knew that I would reach.

  I’ll take this office.

  Chapter Ten

  Her

  AFTER WHAT HELENA MARTENSSEN said to me about leaving the executive floor and that I would be ‘Hearing from somebody, soon,’ I figure that I’m going to be fired.

  It’s his company, but maybe Helena has managed to have me ejected against his wishes. Or, of course there is the other possibility.

  With men, maybe it is safest to never discount the chance that the inner man is, in fact, a low-down, lying heap of treacherous, snake shit.

  If she is going to have me fired, her process seems pretty lax. I still have a company laptop. I could be copying and emailing any number of files. I could be contacting their competitors. Any of the bank’s adversaries.

  Maybe I should start copying. Or, make a tunnel into the server that I can come back and through. Hell, I could be sending files to my father. He’s a huge customer here. What wouldn’t he give me for a few of their operational files. Copies of the trading manuals, he would kill for those.

  I didn’t plan or even expect to be working here for a very long time. Banking was never going to be a long-term thing for me. I would have liked a little more, though. I would like to see Nicolai some more.

  I’m still quite sore, sitting down.

  Then the door of my little cubbyhole flies open.

  He completely fills the doorway.

  “What the fuck are you doing down here?” My heart leaps. “I’ve been looking all over the fucking building for you. Is this where you are supposed to work?”

  I smile, nodding.

  “Okay, we’re going to have to fix that. I’m taking over a new suite of offices in the executive suite. We’ll have part of that configured for you.

  “But…” I stammer, “the company rules. Being there will mean that we can’t…”

  “Silly girl. We’ll be working together all day, every day. Then in the evening, I’ll fire you. Then, I wi
ll fuck you all night long until you cry and moan. We’ve got a lot of babies to make, you and I.” He spreads an evil grin.

  “Then, each morning, I’ll hire you again.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Her

  HIS APARTMENT IS A penthouse duplex. It has terraces that overlook the park on both levels, and on the roof. We watch the sunset. He set out caviar and blinis with sour cream, of course, served with chilled champagne. Needles of December chill penetrate the protective shield of the heat ray lamps. I don’t know that I mind, though. Maybe I can get used to the cold.

  “So,” I ask him, “Doesn’t it seem hypocritical, hiring me and then firing me again, on a daily basis?”

  “There is a provision for staff members who marry or become engaged.” I look at him. He knows what I’m thinking. “Don’t look like that,” he says, “People have relationships at work, all the time. The rules are not to prevent people having relationships, they’re there to prevent people being exploited. To stop powerful staff members from exploiting less powerful employees.”

  “So,” I take a sip of my champagne. “That would be to stop you, say, from exploiting me, would it?”

  He shifts on his feet. I adore the power of him. The calm certainty. Even more than his physical strength. Although just thinking about that makes me shudder. Standing next to it makes you positively hum. And I’m buzzing, right now between my thighs. My ass is clenching, twitching with anticipation. I know we going to get to it. And I know he’s going to make me wait. The bastard.

  “You’re supposing that in this relationship, you and I, if that’s what it becomes, then I would be the one with the power.”

  “Isn’t that how it would go?”

  “See, I know that you’re playing with me, just like you know that I’m playing with you.”

  “I think that you understand perfectly. The dynamic of this relationship is one of total, complete, and perfect trust.” He moves around me. When he does that, making me turn, making me keep my eyes on him, making me watch him, I love that.

  “When we come to a complete understanding, you will master me, as much as will I master you. In some of the most important ways, much more. But that’s why you are perfect for me, and that’s why I have to have you. Completely.”

  “You know that my father will never accept you,” I tell him, “you realize that, right?”

  His eyes blaze and flash. I understand what he means about us mastering each other. I don’t know if anybody could manipulate him, except possibly me. But his reaction when I tell him he can’t have what he wants, it’s physical. I feel it, and it’s frightening. I love it.

  “That’s why I am determined that I will have his blessing.” He tells me. His voice is like lava. Hot, thick, slow. Flowing, unstoppable.

  “I’m going to show him, I’m going to demonstrate that I am your Master now. Your daddy’s job is done.”

  “He won’t give in to you.”

  He breathes in and fills his chest. I know he is containing his anger. His voice lowers an octave.

  “Oh, yes he will.”

  “You can’t always get what you want,” I tell him. I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t resist. “You know that, right?”

  He leads me to the couch, by the ornamental pool. Chills in the air brush my skin like tiny breaths of ice. He sits on the couch. Then he pulls me down.

  He bends me over his knee. He lays his hand on my ass. I shake. I love it so much when he does that. I know what’s coming. I’m trembling half in terror, half in anticipation. The waiting hurts almost as much as what I’m waiting for.

  His hand, hot, strong, and firm molds to the curve of my ass. When he lifts it, I gasp. I shiver inside. I shut my eyes tight. This part is the worst.

  The crack and the shock come first as his hand lands hard on my cheek. The burn and the sting spread afterward.

  He keeps his strong palm on my trembling cheek. I know he’s savoring the heat from the sting. He loves to make me wait.

  This time, it’s fast. His hand rises up and swishes down fast and hard. The crack echoes. My little squeal trickles out. “Oh, no!”

  He starts to raise up my skirt. My hands flap to try and stop him.

  “Oh, no, no, no no no!” A nervous laugh mixes with my yelps.

  “Bad girl.”

  He slaps the backs of my thighs. High up. Fast. Six times. Three smacks on each leg.

  Then he slides my skirt the rest of the way up. Drapes it over my waist. The raw, red stings on my ass and on my thighs, meet the cold air that pricks around the same spots. My arms and legs shake. He holds me firm. His huge fucking cock swells. My mouth waters as it rises like a missile in his pants.

  Now he raises his thigh. Lifts his knee to make room to part my legs. Bends me at a steeper angle. I know his plan is going to be to smack my pussy. I’m terrified.

  “Please, Sir. Please.”

  He spanks my ass. Three times. The heat from the lamps and the chill in the air, the stinging redness where he slapped me, and the frosty prickles of moisture are all like having the volume on all of my senses turned up to eleven. Stings and cold and warmth and wetness all swirl and rise like a sensory symphony. All around the anticipation. I know what he’s going to do. And the wait is breaking me in two.

  I’m gasping. Breathless.

  “What?” his lip curls. “What’s that? What does the bad girl want?”

  “Please. Please, Sir,” The cold, the heat, and the stings they’re are driving me crazy. “Please sir, are you going to spank my pussy. Are you? Sir?”

  He spanks both of my ass cheeks in turn. Three times each. His laugh is merciless.

  “That’s for me to know. And for you to find out.”

  My stomach rolls, “But, but, Sir,” I’m pleading. “If you are going to, Sir, please, do it soon. Please don’t make me wait, Sir. Please.” I’m shaking.

  I regret it immediately. Of course.

  He spanks my pussy, not so hard, but sharply. I feel like my eyeballs are going to pop out.

  As the red-hot buzz seeps and spreads through me and down my thighs, the thrill is delicious. I want to pinch my nipples, but I know that if I ask, it would make him angry. In time, I’ll be able to get him to do it for me. Or let me do it.

  Little by little.

  “Sir?” I snatch a moment to breathe. My body curls, wrapped around the hard bulk of his powerful thigh. I can’t believe I have a man with such strength and power.

  “Yes, bad little intern?”

  “Sir, please may I suck your cock?”

  He lets out a dry laugh as he smacks my pussy. Then my ass. And my thighs. Then my pussy again.

  “What wicked desires you have,” He rubs his hand on my hot, dripping vulva. “Bad little intern.”

  “I know, Sir. I am bad. Very, very bad.”

  The heat of his massive erection is just at my eye level. My back stretches.

  His pulse of testosterone is level with my nose. I want to get my hands on that huge fucking beast. I want to slide it into my throat. I want to wrap my lips around the great, throbbing, girth of it. Cup and squeeze his balls in my palm. Feel the head of his cock nose into the back of my throat. Deep into my mouth. Push it in until my lips reach his hilt.