He was slower this time. Maddeningly slow. Almost immediately, a fire forged from a liquid heat started deep inside her core and began to spread throughout her body. She tried to wrap her legs around him, to pull his pulsing hips faster and harder against her, but one of his hands moved to catch her by the knee forcing it back, bracing it against the bed as he continued to pump slowly into her. She was frustrated, hot, and losing her mind. The sounds from her throat, which started as moans turned into feverish cries as she tried to work her own hips faster. But he wasn't having it. She caught glimpses of his maddening smile above her, provoking her as he moved slower each time she fought against him.
"Roman," she cried, begging him to make this stop.
He was forcing her to ride an edge of a knife. Ecstasy was but a promise away, just one more deep stroke and she would be there; but he refused. Closing her eyes, she felt tears pool in her eyes as her body arched from the building frenzy inside of her. Dear God, she was going to die.
With the press of his lips against one of her eyelids she heard him whisper that same something in his foreign tongue as his hips drove forward, spearing her with merciless force. Her body broke beneath him. Her scream ripped from her throat as her body seized around him, wringing out a deep guttural curse from his chest as he too followed her climax.
Distantly she heard him growl out her name as he slowly pumped the last of his seed inside of her.
Wrapping her arms around his neck, she followed him as he pulled her on top of him as he rolled onto his back. Pulling at the comforter, he pulled it to cover her shoulders as she lay partially draped across him. There was a swelling feeling in her chest as they lay there both quiet, both breathing deeply; she knew that feeling, but she didn't want to acknowledge it—not yet. Nuzzling into the fine hairs on his chest, she focused on the man beneath her.
She was closing her eyes again when he eventually spoke.
"I went to the army very young. Too young. I told them I was eighteen, but I was actually barely seventeen. It did not matter, and I did not care, I had to leave." She felt his chest vibrate as he let out a dry laugh. "The irony of it is that I felt I had to leave or I was going to kill someone," he paused, and she looked up to see him staring out the far wall window staring off into the dark gray sky of the night. “My mother…she was nothing like you. She was weak. She worked herself to the bone for men who used and beat her, and sometimes when they got bored or angry, some of them would look to me to beat on." She wasn't sure if he wanted her sympathy or not, but Rahina could not help but clutch at his thick arm beneath her hand and place a comforting kiss against his chest. "But the military was worse, so much fucking worse. I refused to let it break me, though. Every broken bone, every terrified sleepless night that I waited to be drug out of my bunk, and every fight I got in I let it shape me—mold me to something harder. I started to hit back, but unlike them, I did not stop. I didn't stop when the officers were around, or when others tried to pull me off, I kept hitting and kept fighting until I finally ended up killing another kid."
Lifting herself up, she didn’t care if he did not want sympathy, as he was beginning to speak again, she covered his mouth with hers. Her heart hummed when she felt the heavy press of his arm wrap around behind her head, keeping her there as he kissed her hungrily back. Wordlessly, she provided comfort to his sad story. Eventually, they pulled away, but she could feel the stiffening of his cock against her thighs. Her heart fluttered at that, but her body absolutely ached at the thought she was not sure she could physically take more.
As if sensing her thoughts, he pushed her back to his chest, locking his arm behind her shoulders before continuing. "I spent a year in a military prison camp, and then I was bought by Vladimir to join the bratva."
"Bought?" Like a slave, she thought in horror.
"It is not uncommon," his hand buried itself into her hair, rubbing her scalp in slow massages. “In my line of work, the turnover rate is high. Men like Vladimir usually find their recruits young, vulnerable, and with hardly any ties. He paid for me to be transferred out of the prison, and I was sent to work for him. We both discovered I was very good at this line of work. I became what they needed; I became what was required of me. I became the monster everyone feared me to be."
Minutes drifted by as she listened to his breathing, her head rising and falling with the movements of his chest.
"I'm sorry you had to go through that," and she remembered what he told her before about being fat as a kid. "I bet you were a cute chunky boy, though."
Her head bounced a little on his chest as he let out a soft chuckle.
"Was prison terrible?" she asked, almost too afraid to know.
"The first time, yes." He continued stroking her hair. "The second time, I knew some people which made it easier to cope."
"Two times!" Ignoring his groan as she planted her hands on his stomach and chest, she pushed herself up just enough to glare at him. Two times! The first one made sense but two times? What if there was a third?! "Roman I…I can't stand the thought of you being taken from me. What if…"
Grinning, he swept one of her arms out from underneath her, forcing her to land with a groan against him. "I am not going anywhere, beautiful."
Sighing, she hugged him with a desperate need. "See that you don't."
Chapter 19
As soon as Roman made it to the stairs, his dogs were already there waiting for him with expectant faces. Obediently the two dogs waited until he walked past them both before trailing behind him occasionally sniffing at his legs as he walked. Stopping, Roman turned and faced his dogs with a weary smirk. They had become spoiled since meeting Rahina, her persistent baby talking and disregard to his set rules had turned them into attention hungry lap dogs. Glassy large eyes stared at him in silence.
“It will not work on me,” he mumbled in Russian as he stepped past them to the kitchen.
Wearing only a pair of blue boxer briefs, Roman stood in front of the refrigerator contemplating on what to make. He wanted to serve them breakfast in bed again. Ever since he was interrupted last time by Boris’s phone call summoning him and Dimitri to Jamaica, Roman had replayed that morning with Rahina in his mind numerous times. Last night did not start the way he intended, but it ended better than he could have ever imagined, and because it went so damn good, he was starving. Although she was currently face down in his pillows sleeping deeply, Roman was sure Rahina had to be hungry as well.
Excited pants and rapid clicks of toenails hitting the tile floor drew his attention from the open refrigerator door. Closing it, he looked up in surprise to see Rahina stepping down the stairs. Pushing her tangled wavy black hair over her shoulder, she bent down and petted Hannibal before switching to Genghis. Standing up straight, she met his eyes from across the room and gave him a shy smile. Memories of last night flooded both of their minds and Roman could feel his balls grow heavy. Watching her walk across the room, he noted with a grin that she had put on a pair of socks along with his oversized t-shirt she still wore. Roman understood her insecurity about her feet, but he didn't agree with it, her feet were not perfect, but they certainly weren't hideous as she thought them to be. Honestly, he liked them. He liked the scars and imperfections; they symbolized all her hard work and talent. He liked her reaction even more so when he touched them, there was something very male and primitive that went through him when he watched her normally confident smile fall into a worried look of wary uncertainty. He knew that was a look only he would see, a look that only he could wash away with his touch. Fuck, she was making him horny again.
“Are you going to cook something?” she stopped near the end of the counter and leaned on it tiredly.
She must have gotten up the moment he had gotten up, he guessed. Walking over to the counter, he turned and leaned his back against it, folding his arms across his chest.
“I planned on it, are you hungry?” He didn’t look up to see her answer, his gaze drifted to the twin peaks pressing against
the material of her shirt, seeking his attention.
“A little,” the faint trace of playful seduction in her voice called his gaze back up to hers.
Those large almond shaped eyes drove him crazy. Innocent and round, they held just a touch of forbidden temptation, enough to make him forget about his appetite entirely.
Straightening from the counter, Roman felt his dick grow heavier as he matched her tempting look with an answering look of hunger. Cocking his head to the side, he looked at her. "Come here," he commanded.
Her eyes widened at the sudden change in the air between them. Standing away from the counter, she bit her bottom lip in an impish grin and shook her head. He observed her nipples harden as she watched the challenge ignite in his eyes, and his body straighten even taller as he happily prepared himself for a battle of wills.
“I am going to have you sweetheart, one way or another,” he stepped forward, his body tightening as he watched her step back warily.
“Aren’t you tired from last night?” she whined, giving him a contrived tired stare on her pretty face.
"Nope," he took another step forward until he was around the counter altogether.
“But I am,” she said weakly, giving up her retreat and backing into the counter.
"Then don't fight me, baby," he reached for her, every nerve in his body crackling in awareness as she softened to his touch. Slipping his arm around her waist, he stepped in close until their bodies were only inches apart. “Put your arms around my neck and open your legs, I will do the rest.” His voice was so low he wondered briefly if she even understood.
But she did, he could feel her arms lock around his neck as her lips tentatively meet his. Her kisses had a way of making him feel like he was home and standing at the edge of an active volcano all at once. Sweeping his tongue against hers, Roman nearly bucked at her tiny moan of pleasure. Grabbing her thighs roughly, he groaned in approval as she instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist. Setting her ass on the cold countertop, he snatched the hem of her shirt and yanked it over her head. Pulling back for a second, he took in the sight of her naked bronze body. Looking at her, his breathing turned ragged, he realized would never get enough of this. The trimmed jet-black curls between her legs made his mouth water while the dark tips of her breasts haunted his waking dreams. At each moment of his day, he would always carry the memory of their velvety touch sliding across his tongue as she clutched the back of his head.
Spread wide and naked before him, Rahina moaned and stirred on the counter desperately pulling at his neck to bring him back. This was what drove him insane about her, the way she looked at him. Never in his life had he ever had a woman genuinely look at him the way Rahina did, the kind of devouring look that predators gave their prey. From the moment he met the odd tall dancer, he had been thrown off balance by that hungry stare. In her eyes, Roman knew without a doubt she wanted him. She was greedy for him—eyes rolling back into her head, greedy. Whenever she caught sight of him, he could practically feel her happiness soar from across the room. She loved sleeping on his chest, pressed into his back or just about anything with maximum contact. He was positive that he could sleep on top of her for the whole night, and she wouldn't complain. The feeling of her fingers clutching desperately at his neck, most likely leaving scars or her long, strong legs tirelessly trying to pull him back to her wet warmth, it all drove him crazy. Fuck, he could live off this feeling alone, he thought savagely. Wrapping a fist in her long sweet-smelling hair, he used his other hand to push back one of her knees, opening her for his entry.
“Wait!” She stilled in his hold.
Almost too far gone Roman paused, shorts already pushed down his thighs and his cock standing erect between them.
“For what?” he ground between clenched teeth.
Looking pointedly from him to the floor, she gave him a reproachful look. “Not in front of the babies,” she whispered.
It took him nearly one whole minute to figure out what she was referring to. Looking down, Roman saw the two pairs of curious canine gazes staring back up at the scene they made.
In a deep, highly agitated voice, he barked out a command to which the two immediately scurried to follow. In seconds they both heard the dog door open and close twice, and Roman could see over her shoulder the dogs run into the backyard.
"Any other request?" he growled sharply because he would not stop once he started.
Leaning back with a beautiful coy smile that could have taken down empires, Rahina spread her arms and arched her back against the cold countertop with only a whisper that damned them both. “Fuck me.”
~*~
Mosca had yet to come to the conclusion if a really happy Roman was worse than an angry Roman.
It had only been a little over a week since he returned from his trip and subsequently crashed Rahina’s revenge date with Dev Gorshal, but Mosca could swear every day since then Roman had laid claim to the dancer whether it be the kitchen, the living room, the pool, and on one occasion the stairs. Mosca had found himself deleting hours of private footage from the security feeds.
Resisting the urge to glance up to the rearview mirror to view the man in question in the back, Mosca couldn't, however, delete one particular memory from his mind so easily. He had been looking for Hannibal when it happened; Mosca liked to walk the perimeter of Roman’s property with both dogs each day as he checked emails and made various calls. He didn’t hear the sounds from the living room in time, walking into the kitchen Mosca froze as he spotted them on the couch. People fucking was not new to him, in this line of work, his sense of modesty and shame had died years ago—or so he thought. It was different however seeing someone you come to, in a way, care for. Rahina wasn’t like the desperate women he grew up around, she didn’t constantly think about material gains or manipulate men to improve her station in life. She was the type of woman Mosca had only read about in history books. She was the strong-willed heroine men wanted their daughters to grow up and be someday. The time he spent with her while Roman was away somehow established a familial relationship between them Mosca didn’t expect—so to walk in and see her naked in Roman’s arms as the giant man whispered dark sexual threats in her ear was—shocking. It felt like minutes, but Mosca knew it could only have been seconds as he stood frozen to the spot watching Roman violently thrust into the moaning girl. Turning his eyes away from her bouncing flesh with a searing sense of shame, Mosca had caught Roman’s sharp gaze. Nothing in Mosca’s life felt as cold and threatening as the boss’s arctic gaze in that moment. Mosca knew with a rushing sense of clarity what the man was silently conveying as he continued his unrelenting surging rhythm inside the whimpering girl—she was his. He knew Roman saw the security footage of their nights together watching TV, or the times she begged him to practice dancing with her in the living room, or that damn night he carried her to the bed. Roman had said nothing about it, and still hadn’t, there was no need to, the look Roman gave him was more than enough.
But Mosca had made sure to put a little more distance between himself and Rahina, which wasn’t hard, he thought with a scowl as he pulled into the underground parking garage and parked. Rahina had still not forgiven him for giving her the cold shoulder the night of Roman’s return. For some reason, she had it in her head that he should have been on her side against Roman. The idea was comical. Sometimes her naivete bothered him, did she really not understand what this world was that she invited herself into?
Riding the elevator up in silence, Mosca cast a curious glance up at the mirrored doors. Roman was staring directly back at him as if waiting.
Standing up straighter with a jolt of awareness, Mosca inclined his head. “Sir?”
“Have you seen the promotional trailer for Moon Princess yet?”
This was the first time Roman had spoken to him about anything other than work since his return, Mosca felt pathetic for wanting to sigh in relief. “Yes, it looks good. I honestly want to see it.”
Roma
n didn't say anything, only making a non-committal noise under his breath. The elevator dinged, and the doors opened. Following him through the office, Mosca nodded towards the surprised secretary as Roman ignored her and walked through to the heavy glass doors. Since they were early the office was empty. Dropping the duffel bag near the couch, Mosca watched Roman slowly walk the large office.
“What have you found on Yuri Gosev?” Roman began again.
Knowing what his boss wanted, Mosca recalled all the information he found on the dancer. “Born in Vladivostok, has a small criminal record of disorderly conduct back home but no records in the states. He dates women, often the dancers he has danced with," Roman's back was to Mosca as he relayed this information, but the man made no outward sign of the news having any effect, not that he expected it to. Mosca continued his report. "However, he never dates them during the time of the performance, and there have been no documented or unofficial complaints towards him. Fellow male dancers do not seem to like him from what I can gather from online sources and word of mouth, though they admit that Yuri is professional when working and can make no real complaints about him other than his ego.”
“I see,” turning from the window, Roman walked over to the couch and sat down. “Rahina only tells me that practice is wonderful and goes on about how happy she is at the company.” Pausing, Roman gave Mosca a questioning look. “What does Davies think about him?”
His Smile: A Mafia Romance Page 21
