The Russian Bodyguard: A Dark Mafia Romance (Krasnov Brothers Book 3)

by Rie Warren

  Her breasts wobbled as she bounced them up and down my straining girth. Her tongue licked kittenishly at the precum dabbing the head and my PA.

  My thighs tensed. My breath sharpened. My sight narrowed to her gorgeous face and large tits and my dick riding through the sexy soft mounds.

  “Will you come in my mouth?” she asked breathily.

  My fingers clenching around the sofa cushions, I nodded.

  But when the first wave hit—lighting me off from inside—I slipped my dick from her breasts and fired the initial rope of cum across her chest.

  She hissed and, when she did, I sank my spraying cock between her lips.

  She knocked my pumping hand away, taking over the job of milking my seed into her mouth and then down her throat.

  Blyad.

  A man could get used to this.

  I’d barely finished coming with a last loud roar before I shoved Sasha back and lunged right after her. Unwrapping her breasts, I took her nipples into my mouth again because I just could not get enough.

  Then I detoured down her quivering belly and straight into her sexy little pussy.

  I prodded her thighs wide with my shoulders and ate at her, licking her honey and drilling her with my tongue until her slickness was all over my stubbled jaw and down my throat.

  Pressing harder against me, she tugged my hair, coming with a trembling yell.

  No matter how many men she’d had before, she would never forget me.

  I gave her pussy one last long swipe, watching as she thrashed, then sat back on my haunches.

  Not surprisingly, I was hard again.

  Her hazy eyes swept down my chest to land on my cock that had become engorged for her.

  She stretched out on the rug appealingly. “Are you going to—?”

  I shook my head and slowly rose to my feet.

  I pulled my jeans back up, struggling to fit my erection inside. “I’m not going to fuck you just to give you a cheap orgasm, Sashenka.”

  “Who are you calling cheap?” She shot to her feet.

  “You know what I mean. You’re so easy you let pissant boys like Jimmy paw at you.”

  Her stinging slap across my face caught me by surprise. “You’re unbearable!”

  I stretched my jaw, rubbed at my face.

  Perhaps I deserved that. But as her husband, I had also deserved to take her virginity.

  She managed to look contrite, almost like her actions surprised her. Well, that made two of us.

  Leaning over her, I made sure she was very aware of just how much I outweighed her by.

  Then I uttered, “When I fuck you it will be because you’re desperate for my cock, and I might even make you beg for it.”

  She swallowed audibly, her gaze drifting away from mine as if she anticipated retaliation for her slap.

  But . . . I was certain her ass still stung from the pizza paddle.

  I stepped back, moving muscle by muscle.

  I held my hand out to her, but not to strike her. “Come. Let’s eat. You barely picked at your food yesterday, and I like your curves the way they are.”

  At my unexpected compliment, her eyes flitted back to me, and her cheeks turned pink.

  Before we foraged for food though, I left her for the bedroom, taking her robe with me. When I returned, I carried one of my pressed dress shirts, which I skimmed up her arms and over her shoulders. While I buttoned my shirt over her voluptuous nakedness, she watched my tanned fingers, and I remembered how much I hated wearing the suits unlike my brothers.

  Sasha approved of well-tailored suits, and I approved of her in my button down. In fact, I loved the look on her sinful body. With the tails flapping around her curvy upper thighs and the top bursting open from her breasts, she made an enticing sight. A feeling of possession came over me, not of the clothes but of the woman.

  In the kitchen, I was still hard, but I would not readjust my cock in her presence. After the past twenty-four or more hours, Sasha had to know her effect on me. A smart woman like her could use my weakness to her advantage, and Sasha was nothing if not cunning when she wanted something.

  “Food then?” she asked, her eyes just a little too knowing.

  “Da.”

  She opened the pantry then the refrigerator and glanced back at me.

  Both were now fully stocked whereas before there hadn’t been all that much in the place.

  “Did Baba buy all this?” She selected the sleeve of bagels from her favorite bakery.

  I shifted uncomfortably, and not because of the erection. “I did.”

  Sasha added a package of lox from her favorite deli to the pile in her arms before turning to face me. “Hmm. And how did you know what I like?”

  Swallowing roughly, I studiously avoided her gaze. “I have been by your side for years. You think I don’t know you by now?”

  That pretty pink color returned to her cheeks and, if I’d thought seeing her dressed in my shirt was alluring, the blush was thoroughly becoming.

  But I would not fall into the same trap both my brothers had regarding the women in their lives.

  Sasha collected the cream cheese too, placing everything on the counter after retrieving two bottles of water and the orange juice.

  I cleared my throat. “Anyway, not very Russian. Everything bagels and lox.”

  An unmistakable womanliness marked every one of her motions as she slinked back to the refrigerator, and I was not immune to her. Not in the least. I was especially aware that she was naked beneath my shirt.

  Sweat popped out on my brow.

  “With caviar instead of capers on the bagels though.” She retrieved a new tin of the expensive stuff, pivoting to see me possibly salivating, and not for the caviar.

  “And”—Sasha came very near to me as she arranged the food items—“I’ll have you know I can eat borscht with the best of you, and I can cook it too.”

  I poured a glass of OJ then sucked it down my parched throat to avoid making a comment.

  She placed the sliced bagels into the toaster oven and quietly mused, “If Oleg is what it means to be Russian, I’m pretty sure I’m all the way embracing America now.”

  Fuck.

  I crossed over to her and cupped her cheek. I brought her eyes to mine.

  Then my hand fell to hers, and I flipped her palm to twine our fingers together. “You know he’s not normal, da? Not even in Bratva terms. The things he said . . .”

  A frown crossed her forehead. “Maybe.” She shrugged. “I mean, everything is always vengeance, money, and blood. I’ve grown up with it just like you. I get it.” Sasha met my eyes, and she looked mature beyond her years. “But I would rather save people than kill them.”

  “You shouldn’t have had to hear what he said. About your mother.” I pulled her into a brief hug. “That was simply cruel, Sashenka.”

  Her arms ringed around me as she accepted my solace. Then she moved back, out of my embrace. With strength I’d never given her credit for, she shrugged again in an it is what it is way then went back to preparing the bagels while I started the coffee.

  She’d never known her mother.

  Neither had I, not that I could remember. I didn’t know what probably disgraceful end my druggy parents had met but now, no thanks to that fuckhead Oleg Kamenev, Sasha would always have visions in her head about what had happened to her mama—the vile rape, the vicious murder, her mother.

  I would not allow Oleg to live.

  That was a vow I’d keep.

  I tried to release the tension from my body—at least for now—and, while the coffee percolated, I worked side by side with Sasha on the bagels and caviar. For one moment, we fell into a domestic routine that could only be called common—one I couldn’t afford to get used to.

  I poured the coffee, added the right amount of cream and sugar to hers, and she plated the food.

  We sat at the island on stools, and I wanted to place my palm on her bare thigh, but I refrained.

  We’d spoke
n so many harsh words to another, nothing but rancor for years.

  She didn’t want me anymore than I wanted her.

  Or did she?

  Did I?

  I drank more coffee, and Sasha ate hungrily. At last.

  Then she pointed to the bare empty space beside the large window in the kitchen. “You know what? This place needs a proper table.”

  I wiped my mouth with a napkin and imagined a woman’s touch in the apartment.

  Sasha’s touch.

  “I suppose it does.”

  “And way more rugs before I get knee-burn,” she added without even looking at me.

  Which made me wonder how many more times I could get her on her knees.

  Fuck.

  It was a battle to keep my hands off her.

  She drooped suddenly, placing her elbows near her plate, which she’d cleaned every last crumb off of. “I know it’s morning, Maksim, but can we try to sleep a little more?”

  I knew it was dangerous to be with her like this. To be with her when she was like this. Softer. Amenable.

  So sexy.

  We were better off fighting. It was safer to cross words with her.

  I agreed, despite the fact the sun had risen a couple hours ago.

  In the bedroom, I placed both handguns on the bedside table then shucked out of my jeans.

  Sasha crawled beneath the covers in my shirt and she buried her nose into the collar.

  I wondered if she’d done that with any other man’s top.

  I fucking hoped not.

  Joining her, I laid on my back.

  Everything felt different.

  Well, for one thing, I hadn’t restrained her.

  “Maksim?” Rolling toward me, Sasha again demanded my attention.

  “Da.” I crossed an arm behind my head, bolstered by the pillow.

  “Why did you set this place up?”

  “What do you mean?”

  She braced herself on an elbow above me, the curtain of her lustrous hair falling around us. “Am I so impossible that you couldn’t stand to live in the same house with me anymore?”

  Shit.

  I clenched my hands so I wouldn’t touch her, but that didn’t work.

  Reaching up, I cradled the nape of her neck in my palm, and my eyes bored into hers. “You make me fucking crazy and you know you are impossible, Sashenka.”

  But then I lunged up. I licked across her lips. I delved inside her mouth.

  And I took.

  I would take again too.

  It wasn’t against her will because Sasha curled an arm over my shoulders and pushed against what she knew grew hard for her.

  Breaking free, I flipped her to her opposite side, ignoring all her protests.

  “You are tired,” I spoke low against her ear.

  “Maksim,” she mewled.

  I kept her in place, my arm hooked around her waist, my thighs butted against the backs of hers, my cock nestled into her warm ass.

  “Sleep,” I ordered.

  And I lay there, spooning Sasha while my dick was so hard I ached to plunge inside of her.

  For fuck’s sake.

  11

  Sasha

  I WOKE UP WHEN the heat that had been at my back disappeared.

  Rolling over, I realized Maksim must’ve left the bed a while ago as his hair was damp from a shower and he’d dressed in his usual uniform of black on black.

  He didn’t realize I was awake until he stalked over to retrieve both the Sig Sauer and the S&W from where he’d kept the handguns beside the bed.

  One of his brows quirking up, he holstered the weapons and said, “Hello.”

  His formal greeting while I lay in his bed wearing his shirt made me self-conscious.

  “Going somewhere?” I sat up against the pillows, noting it must’ve been midmorning by now and I knew he wasn’t accustomed to sleeping in, not even after a night like the one we’d just spent.

  He sat on the edge of the bed, refraining from touching me. “Yes. Things I must do.”

  “So you’re just leaving me here alone?”

  “We are heavily fortified now. I’ll only be a couple hours, three at most.”

  I wanted to protest more whereas in the past I’d made it my life’s mission to sneak away from him.

  He watched me quietly then said, “Kirill and Jo are downstairs too.”

  “Jo?” I sat up all the way. “She shouldn’t be here, Maksim. What if Oleg comes back to finish the job?”

  I didn’t want my friend risking her life or her pregnancy just to be my babysitter for a change.

  Moving closer to me, Maksim cupped the side of my face in a surprisingly tender gesture. He rubbed his thumb over my lower lip, making me think about how he’d kissed me, how he’d spanked me, how he’d taken out his big cock and used my breasts to fuck them in the naughtiest way possible.

  Heat spread between my thighs.

  “Sshhh. Joanna will be fine here as will you. I brought in many soldiers this morning, and Kirill would never let anything happen.”

  Kirill wouldn’t, not to Jo. But what about Maksim and me?

  Did he still hate being around me so much he couldn’t wait for the first opportunity to get away again?

  I didn’t get a chance to voice my questions and I was glad because I hated the insecurities that boiled up inside of me lately when it came to him.

  He left, and that was that.

  Huffing in annoyance at both him and myself, I forced myself out of bed and into the shower. Inside the marble cubicle, water poured blissfully over me from the multiple showerheads. The shower was roomy enough for two, but I stopped myself from daydreaming about a naked Maksim bathing with me—getting all soapy and slippery.

  He’d said he wouldn’t fuck me until I begged, and it would be a cold day in hell before that happened.

  I got dressed from the meager amount of clothing he’d allowed me to bring here, which had only been five days ago but had altered my life in irreversible ways.

  I did some domestic chores, which oddly felt like I was taking care of my man. Which really made me want to slap myself.

  I cleaned up from our weird breakfast of bagels, thinking about what kind of table I’d purchase for the space if I was going to be here for any length of time, which I wasn’t.

  I made the bed and fluffed the pillows and shoved away all thoughts of Maksim’s awesome, sexy, pierced cock.

  Then I saw the stash of letters Baba had given me just yesterday peeking out from the drawer of the little table on my side of the bed.

  After making a fresh cup of coffee, I settled into a cozy chair in the lounge with the stack of letters.

  I inspected the postmarks and addresses of each—I’d never known where my mama lived on this side of the pond. I was surprised to see it looked like she hailed from Boston . . . maybe that was why Papa had settled us here.

  Maybe he felt closer to her even though she’d been taken from him—from us—twenty-three years ago.

  I opened the first letter, unfolded the crisp sheets, lifted them to my nose, and inhaled.

  It was probably just wishful thinking, but I thought I detected a hint of perfume and I smiled at the idea my mother would’ve done something so romantic for Papa.

  I traced her cursive letters, admiring her elegant script, tears welling in my eyes.

  Reading through the first letter, I could barely wipe those tears away fast enough. She described in detail the progress of her pregnancy with me. It was surreal in a way. And so needed. She told about the first time she felt me move . . . Yury, it feels like little bird wings fluttering in my belly. Sometimes our little one kicks out harder, making me catch my breath. I am certain now we’re having a girl, a mother knows these things.

  Maternal pride rang through each carefully written word.

  Then another letter started as they all did with my dearest Yury but went on to show how strong she was in the face of her parent’s disapproval over her decisions. I
decided right then and there I never wanted to meet my maternal grandparents even if they were still alive.

  Her folks had tried to keep Papa and Mama apart, which hurt my heart so much. They’d had such a short time together as it was.

  Her parents definitely had their hate on toward Papa. By my mother’s recounting, they weren’t much kinder to her either. Judgy fucks. They were disappointed that she’d broken her promises as a missionary to run off with not just a foreigner but a criminal to boot. She hurried to reassure Papa she didn’t give a fig about the church if it meant being apart from him, and she’d return to him soon so their family could have a proper start.

  I hadn’t even known that was how they met in the first place. My mama had been doing church work in Russia? Considering Papa’s illegal associations, theirs truly was a love story against all odds.

  It was the final missive that chilled me to the bones though. She must’ve heard back from Papa and something had shaken her.

  I’m worried for you, Yury. I know you told me never to give Leonid Kamenev a second thought again after he tried to steal me away from you, but I can’t help but be anxious for you. You are formidable, but he is an evil I’ve never encountered.

  Be safe and I will return to you soon, my love. Our precious baby and I belong to you only.

  Jesus. Mama knew something was wrong even before she returned to Russia to have me.

  She’d married the man she loved so much only to be snatched away from him—gruesomely violated and murdered just when she’d finally started her family.

  I hiccupped away a sob, drying a final tear, dazed and saddened.

  But that wasn’t all. My mother had loved me too, and now I understood why Papa couldn’t talk about her. His sorrow was too deep, and he’d probably never forgiven himself for putting her in harm’s way. Which was why he’d tried so hard to keep me under lock and key with Maksim my constant shadow.

  “Knock knock!” Jo shouted just before letting herself into the apartment.

  I shifted the letters under a cushion before standing to greet her.

  “Holy hell. When are you guys getting an elevator? I think my uterus dropped about ten inches on the way up, and you know Kirill wanted to damn carry me again. Like I’m gonna break or something.”