by Zoe Blake
My eyes widened. No! No, he couldn’t possibly think to… no!
He pushed his thumb past my resisting sphincter to the first knuckle.
My hand slammed down on the desk several times as my body adapted to the feel of him dominating me in all my holes as I adjusted to the knowledge this was only the beginning.
His thumb shifted in and out of my ass, opening me. Sending twisted shocks of pleasurable agony between my legs.
“Come for me, baby. Now,” he commanded.
I obeyed.
Helplessly biting down on his fingers as my body betrayed me with an all-consuming orgasm, I collapsed forward, resting my cheek on the cool surface of the wood plank as he thrust in deep several more times. His cock swelled deep inside of me before he pumped his come into my core.
Our mixed ragged breathing was all that could be heard in the humid room. I could feel the sweat between my breasts and shoulder blades as Dimitri slowly pulled out.
Pulling his fingers from my mouth, he once more cupped my sex.
Dipping his fingers inside, he then returned them to my mouth.
“Lick them clean. Taste the come that’s inside of you.”
It felt dirty and wrong… I did it anyway. Laving my tongue around each fingertip, exalting in the taste of our mutual passion.
It was sometime later, after righting our clothes, that we exited the room, right into the path of Old Sour Berry.
Chapter 17
There can be no peace for us, only misery, and the greatest happiness. - Leo Tolstoy, Anna Karenina
Dimitri
The older woman looked like a wet bird. Her neck craned high as her frail body shook with outrage.
“Miss Doyle, what is the meaning of this?”
I pushed Emma behind me. I could feel her nervously clutching at my suit jacket.
Deliberately deepening my accent, I smiled. “I’m sorry. I haven’t had the pleasure.” I held out my hand.
The woman reached for her glasses suspended from her neck by a beaded chain. Putting them on, she looked at my face, then my hand, back to my face. Her ruffled feathers smoothed a bit.
Holding out her pale, blue-veined hand, her thin lips stretched over her teeth. “Hortense Sowerberry.”
Leaning over, I kissed the top of her hand, inhaling the thick aroma of stale rose petals. “Charmed. I am Dimitri Antonovich Kosgov at your service.”
Mrs. Sowerberry’s free hand fluttered to cover her mouth. “Oh, my!”
Emma breathed a disgusted huff behind me. I gave her booted foot a small kick in warning.
“Your protégé, who I could only assume learned her vast knowledge of this splendid library under your direct tutelage, was just giving me a tour of your collection.”
“Has she shown you the Shakespeare folios yet, Mr. Kosgov?”
My mouth turned down as I shook my head in disappointment. “Alas, I do not have time this evening, but perhaps you could show me the folios another time?”
She giggled like a schoolgirl as a nervous hand reached up to smooth her already tight bun. “I’d be honored.”
“Hortense, may I call you Hortense?”
Fingers fluttered over her heart. “You may.”
“Hortense, I was wondering if I could steal away your protégé for the rest of the evening.”
She turned to look at the two full book carts standing nearby. “Well, Mr. Kosgov, there still is a great deal of work to be done.”
“I’ve already shelved three car—” broke in Emma as she tried to move past me.
I swept out an arm to shove her behind me once more.
“I don’t want to ruin the surprise, but…” I leaned down to whisper into Hortense’s ear.
Her cheeks bloomed with color. “That sounds so romantic,” she breathed.
“So may I steal Emma away?”
She nodded but craned her neck to see around my shoulder. “Be here an hour earlier tomorrow to make up the time.”
“Yes, Mrs. Sowerberry. Thank you, Mrs. Sowerberry,” came Emma’s obedient response.
On my way to Midway airport earlier today, I had contacted my accountant about paying off the rest of her tuition. Now I would have to look into these side jobs of hers. I didn’t like her having to answer to this woman or anyone else but me. If a job like this was required for her to obtain her dream job of being a librarian, well then, perhaps I would just contribute substantially to the library in her name. That would guarantee they treated her with respect. But that was a problem for later. Now I had the rest of the evening with Emma.
Reaching behind me, I felt a surge of pleasure when her small hand slipped into mine. I’d never really been the type to hold hands with a woman. That was a little too domestic for a man like me, but there was something about having her hand securely enclosed within my own that pleased me.
“It was a pleasure, madam.”
I pulled Emma down the main aisle, pausing only to retrieve my overcoat and her coat and backpack before exiting the library.
Emma was buckling her seat belt as I slipped into the driver’s seat. Reaching behind her, I grabbed the Apple bag and placed it on her lap.
“What is this?”
“A new phone,” I responded as I checked my mirrors and pulled away from the curb, pointing the car toward Michigan Avenue.
“I don’t need a new…” She stopped at my glare. “Okay, I need a new phone, but I can’t let you buy me one.”
“It’s done.”
She sighed. Setting the bag on the floor at her feet, she turned in her seat. “I think we need to talk.”
I gripped the steering wheel harder. “There is nothing to talk about, Emma. You will do as you’re told.”
“Dimitri, you can’t go around doing these things for me.”
“Why not?”
She threw up her hands as her voice pitched higher. “Because you can’t! Offering to pay my tuition. Sending a crew of men to install a security system in my apartment. Buying me a phone. Buying me this! It’s too much!”
She pushed up her sleeve to flash the diamond bracelet I had secured around her wrist while she slept last night. I was pleased she had obeyed me and left my gift on. Not that she had much of a choice. The bracelet had a hidden clasp, difficult to open if you didn’t know where to look.
I’d been taken aback at the vision of her creamy, pink-flushed skin and kiss-swollen lips as she’d lain sated within my arms. Her rich, tawny hair fanned out over my shoulder and pillow. The sight of her wearing the diamonds I had bought her completed the image.
моя крошка.
My little one.
She was so small and vulnerable.
I wanted to tie her to my bed and never let her leave to keep her safe by my side.
“You’ve probably spent thousands on me already and it’s just not right. We’ve barely started dating. This just isn’t normal new boyfriend stuff! Even I know that!”
This was not the time to inform her that the bracelet on her wrist was worth a quarter of a million dollars, which was a trifling compared to my net worth, or that I had already paid off her tuition and loans.
I caressed her cheek, brushing her cute bangs aside to get an unobstructed view of her expressive eyes. “Tell you what. Tonight I will behave like a normal boyfriend. I’ll take you to dinner.”
She leaned back in her seat. Her head tilted as those same beautiful brown eyes narrowed. “What’s the catch?”
“No catch. Just dinner and maybe something fun afterwards.”
“No more gifts.”
I thought of what I had tucked inside my suit pocket. Flashing her a wink, I admitted, “I have one small gift, but I promise, it cost less than ten dollars. Surely that must fall within normal boyfriend territory?”
Her pink lips pursed. “I suppose so.” She lifted her arm and pointed a finger at me. “A normal date. Then I go home.”
“We’ll see about that last part.”
I may have installed security measures at her h
ome after being horrified to learn she lived in a ground-floor apartment, but that wasn’t because I expected her to sleep there. From this point forward, her place was in my bed. I just wanted her to feel better about leaving Mary alone there. I was already arranging for a suitable house close to campus where I would allow her to stay with her roommate when I was out of town so she wouldn’t be alone. The moment I returned I would expect her back at my home, in my bed.
I had it all planned out.
When the time was right, I would inform Emma.
Emma slid into the crimson leather booth as I shrugged out of my suit jacket.
“Dimitri Antonovich, it has been too long!”
I grasped the tuxedoed man who approached us with menus around the neck as he leaned in to kiss both my cheeks. “Sasha, my friend. It has been too long.”
“I see you have brought a charming companion with you this evening.” Sasha bowed. “Sasha Oleg Nikitin at your service.”
Her cheeks blushed sweetly at the gallant introduction as her gaze sought mine.
“Emma, I would like you to meet an old friend of mine, Sasha.”
She nodded before responding in her soft, sweet voice, “It’s nice to meet you.”
“Дмитрий, ты везучий пес. Если бы я был моложе.”
“Даже не думай об этом, старый друг. Она моя,” I snapped back, only half jesting.
Sasha raised his arms high, palms up. “Я бы не посмел. Я рада за тебя, мой друг.”
Emma looked between us, her brow creased.
I slid into the booth next to her and placed my arm protectively over her shoulders. “We are being ungentlemanly, my friend.”
Sasha placed a hand over his heart. “A thousand apologies. We shall toast to your good fortune.”
He pointed at me. “A Stoli Elit for you.”
I nodded. “You remembered.”
Sasha smiled. “And I’m thinking a black currant tea for the lady.”
He walked away, and Emma turned to me. “Don’t I get to toast as well?”
I tapped her on the nose. She just looked so adorable. “Of course.”
“But he’s bringing me a tea!”
“He’s bringing you a black currant tea-flavored vodka shot,” I corrected as I picked up a menu. Perusing the contents I already knew by heart. Although I didn’t get here often, The Russian Tea Time restaurant was one of my personal favorites. I liked the cozy atmosphere and the Russian music playing softly in the background. It was a charming place in the shadow of the Art Institute that always felt like a bit of home.
Emma picked up her own menu. “I thought Russians were prudes about their vodka. I always figured flavored vodkas were an American thing.”
“Russians were making flavored vodkas since before America was a country,” I boasted.
“Do you always drink vodka?”
“Why, does that make me too stereotypically Russian?” I asked with a wink.
She settled her hand on my upper arm. “No, I didn’t mean to imply that, I was just wondering.”
The warmth of her hand permeated through my thin shirt. It was the second time she had willingly touched me. The first was earlier tonight when she had trustingly placed her hand in mine. All other times I would be the one to grasp her hand or pull her into my embrace. Despite our dubious start and my admittedly high-handed tactics, she was slowly becoming more comfortable around me.
The beast was charming the beauty.
“I like the occasional whiskey or lager, but I prefer vodka.”
“I need to check out a book on Russian culture. I already have one on…” She stopped, biting her lip as she lowered her head. She pulled her hand off my arm and placed it in her lap. I already missed the gentle feel of it.
“A book on what, моя крошка?” I caressed her cheek with the hand wrapped around her shoulders, trying to recapture the ease she had felt just a moment earlier.
She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter.”
It was then I recalled our conversation over dinner last night. My little librarian had checked out a book on Russian prison tattoos and innocently guessed some of my secrets. The idea of her learning that much about me before I had secured her affections alarmed me. I’d overreacted. While it was true I had no intention of telling her the actual nature of my business, that didn’t mean I couldn’t share some details about my life with her.
Feeling the need to make amends, I leaned in and whispered in her ear, “Would you like to know about my teddy bear tattoo?”
Her face lit up as she bounced in her seat, clapping her hands. “Yes! I’m dying to know!”
Only Vaska knew the story I was about to relate to her. As we waited for our drinks, I told her the drunken tale of how I’d wound up with a tattoo on my left shoulder of Cheburashka, a popular cartoon character from my childhood.
It involved a classmate’s pet monkey and a bet that went horribly wrong. But at least my tattoo wasn’t as embarrassing as Vaska’s.
Emma covered her mouth as she laughed out loud at my schoolboy antics.
“So what is Vaska’s tattoo?”
“You must ask him when you meet him.”
Funny how it just seemed natural to me that I would eventually introduce her to my best friend, considering I had never done so with any other woman, but then, I had known Emma would be different from the start.
“I must ask him to show it to me.”
Knowing where his tattoo was placed, I playfully tugged on her hair. “You will do no such thing.”
She giggled. “That bad, huh?”
Before I could answer, Sasha returned with a rectangular wooden tray with three shot glasses balanced on it. Reaching out, I picked up my own and handed the black currant tea one to Emma. Sasha selected the last one and raised it high. “За нашу дружбу!” Then for Emma’s benefit he repeated in English, “To our friendship!”
We all three drank.
My cock swelled as I watched her lick the sweet drops from her lips. Never in my life had I met such a beautiful temptress so unaware of her sexual appeal. Thank God I had found her before any other man.
After ordering piroshkies, shashlik, and a few cherbureki for our dinner, Sasha left, and I returned my attention to Emma.
“So why haven’t you covered the tattoo up?” she asked.
I looked at my sleeve where I could see the faintest outline of the brown and orange tattoo. “The little guy grew on me. Why, do you think I should cover it up?”
She leaned in, placing a warm hand on the center of my chest, her head tilted up to meet my gaze. I could get lost in her eyes. I loved how they were the color of chocolate and turned down slightly at the ends. It gave her this innocence lost appeal. She gave me a sweet kiss. Running the tip of my tongue over my lower lip, I could taste the vodka on her lips. “Don’t. I love it. It makes you seem just a little less scary and beastly.”
I bared my teeth and gave her a playful growl.
Just then, our food and another round of shots arrived.
Needing to distract her from asking any more personal questions about me, I quizzed her about becoming a librarian.
“My dream would be to work for the Folger Library in Washington, D.C. They have the largest collection of Shakespeare’s first folios in the world, but it is really competitive. I’d also be fine being in charge of a cute little neighborhood library, organizing reading events for the kids and book clubs for the adults. It would also be nice to travel around the world visiting all the great libraries.”
My hand curled into a fist around the empty shot glass I was holding. I had to force myself to let go before I broke it.
I really was a selfish bastard.
Here was this beautiful, innocent girl describing her bucolic dreams to me, not realizing what a dark shadow had entered her life. If she stayed with me I wasn’t sure such a simple, normal existence would be possible.
Eventually she would have to find out I was a dangerous man. I knew she already suspected, but I doubt she realized just how deeply I was involved in the criminal underworld. I had armed entire armies, often both sides of the same conflict.
Sweet, respectable librarians didn’t date ruthless arms dealers.
And I was the worst sort… because I still had no intention of letting her go.
Chapter 18
I love you with so much of my heart that none is left to protest. - William Shakespeare, Much Ado About Nothing
Emma
My hand wrapped around Dimitri’s hard bicep as I brushed my cheek against the soft wool of his overcoat. I inhaled the sandalwood scent of his cologne that clung to the fabric, as the biting night air chilled my vodka-warmed cheeks.
Was there ever a more perfect moment than this?
Feeling the energy of the city as the tiny lights from the high-rises competed with the bright stars in the sky, we walked down Michigan Avenue past Millennium Park. Catching the envious glances of other females as we passed, I tightened my grasp. In response, Dimitri put his hand over mine.
“Just a little further,” he whispered against my hair before giving the side of my forehead a kiss.
There was a fluttering in my chest that had nothing to do with the flavored vodka shots I had enjoyed. In only a few days, this man, who had charged into my life like a bull in a china shop, had completely stolen my heart. There was no point in denying it. Of course, I was a naïve ingénue, falling for the first man to show me affection, but it was what it was.
I was in love with him.
He was charming and handsome and sexy as hell. I loved how he appeared like this super scary tattooed criminal but was actually an incredibly intelligent and cultured gentleman. There was also the primal, decidedly less feminist side of me that exhilarated in his brute strength and how he would just grab me and take what he wanted when he wanted it. In some twisted way, the fear he inspired somehow increased my arousal. I was defenseless against both the physical power of his grasp and the soulful passion it awoke.
