by Roxie Rivera
“Not in BJJ,” I clarified. “I use the gym for cardio and some light lifting, but that’s it. There aren’t any fighters at the gym close enough to my weight or size to make it safe to wrestle on the mats.”
“No women at the gym?” Missy frowned.
“Just me.” It was one of the issues we argued about on a regular basis. I wanted to open up the gym to women, but Ivan refused because he wasn’t comfortable training them.
“Seems like you’re losing out on a big chunk of business,” James remarked. “Lots of women are into MMA these days.”
“They sure are,” I agreed. “The Connolly brothers have lots of classes for women and kids. There are a few other gyms in the area that offer them, too. We’re just not one of them.”
“I heard there was some interest about the Warehouse hosting a camp for that fighter show on TV,” James said, clearly aware that it was more than simple interest.
“We’ve had some discussions.” Not wanting to get into the nitty gritty details of a deal that hadn’t been ironed out yet, I changed the subject. “So, what do you two do?”
“I’m a stay at home mom. I also homeschool the boys and run a blog and YouTube channel.”
“Oh wow! You must be exhausted when bedtime rolls around,” I said, unable to imagine wrangling five rambunctious boys while pregnant and working.
“I am, but it’s all worth it. My boys deserve the best.” She smiled warmly and rubbed her husband’s arm. “We want them to be raised in a good Christian home with traditional family values. We don’t want them exposed to the wrong ideas.”
I suspected the wrong ideas might be things like evolution but didn’t want to get into that deep of a discussion at a charity dinner. Instead, I said, “I had friends at college who were homeschooled. They all did extremely well.”
“Did you go to the public schools here?” she asked.
I shook my head. “I went to St. John’s. My sister and I both went there,” I clarified. “Our mother was the CFO at the school.”
“And your father?” James asked.
“He was a partner at Ernst & Young,” I explained, hoping they would let the issue drop soon. I wasn’t in the mood to bring up my dead parents tonight. “And what do you do, James?”
“I’m in real estate. I own a commercial development company headquartered in Dallas, but I’ve opened a new branch here.”
“Are you working on the I-45 widening project?”
“We are,” he confirmed. Then, with a knowing smile, he asked, “Why? Do you have some property you want to develop?”
“Maybe,” I answered coyly. “I know tonight isn’t the time to talk business, though.”
“No,” he agreed, “but it’s a good time to make connections. We could schedule a meeting later this week? You can find my details online at our business site.”
“Sure.” I turned away from James for a brief moment as Ivan squeezed my thigh under the table to get my attention. We shared a look that easily communicated what he wanted me to know. That man is dangerous. Don’t promise him anything. I found his hand under the tablecloth and squeezed it to let him know I understood.
As the appetizer courses arrived, the hostesses of the night took the stage. I glanced around the room, expecting to see Holly somewhere but the table where her mother sat had two empty seats. Maybe she wasn’t in the mood to celebrate after her ordeal in Mexico...
When the dancing started after dinner, Ivan wasted no time tugging me out to the center of the room. We had been working on his two-step since the invitation arrived, and he proved how quickly he mastered new skills as he shuffled us around the room to a George Strait cover band. We hadn’t danced this much since Bianca and Sergei’s wedding, and it felt so good to let loose and have fun.
Just after eleven, I stopped by the auction tables to see if my bids had won. I managed to contain my squeal of excitement when I saw that I had won two of the items I wanted for Ivan. Now I just had to figure out how to surprise him with them.
“I think we’re going to head on home,” Vivian said as she joined me near the sports memorabilia table. She rested her hands on her very pregnant belly and sighed. “I am beat.”
“Go home. Make Nikolai massage your feet.” I glanced at her heels and shook my head. “I don’t know how you’re walking in those things.”
“Very carefully,” she said with a laugh. She hugged me good night and turned to leave. “I’ll see you tomorrow at brunch.”
“Yep.” Scanning the room for Ivan, I found him talking to some similarly tall, burly types. Athletes. Probably interested in joining the gym and rolling around on the mats with Ivan and his team. As if he could feel my gaze, he glanced my way, and I touched my earlobe, our secret signal that I was running off to the ladies room. He nodded, and I blew him a dramatic kiss. He grinned, and I pivoted on my heel, walking away with a little extra swing to my hips. The night was winding down, and I knew my husband well enough to expect a wild romp once he had me alone again.
The line for the bathroom was longer than I had expected, and I had a few moments to open my clutch and check my phone. There were the usual social media notifications and texts wishing me a happy new year. A missed phone call caught my eye. I didn’t recognize the number. There was a voicemail, too.
Certain it was someone who had drunk dialed the wrong number, I left it unopened and tucked my phone back into my clutch. The line moved more quickly, and in no time at all, I was standing at the sink washing my hands. I kept hold of my paper towel as I reached the door, using it to grab the handle and catching the door with the toe of my shoe before tossing the paper towel in the nearby trash.
Out in the dim but warmly lit hallway, I sidestepped a trio of women consoling a crying fourth and averted my gaze when I passed an older couple making out like teenagers in a dark corner. Alcohol had been free flowing all night, and people were starting to get loose with their behavior. It was amusing to say the least.
“Erin.”
I cringed inwardly at the sound of Teague’s voice. With an aggrieved sigh, I turned toward him. “Teague.”
He swayed on his feet, and I worried he was about to topple over onto his face. He had lost his bowtie and vest sometime during the night, and his cowboy hat was crumpled in his left hand. His cheeks were ruddy and his eyes were glassy as he stepped toward me with an accusatory finger. “I know your secret.”
Taken aback, I asked, “What secret?”
“About your sister,” he slurred.
I rolled my eyes. “You’re drunk. Call for a ride. Go home. Sleep it off.”
“You better do what they told you, sweetheart. Tell your sister to keep her mouth shut—or else.”
A cold chill coursed through my body, freezing me right to the very spot I stood. “What did you say?”
“You heard me.” He poked my shoulder hard enough that I winced, and I stepped back to get away from him. He stepped forward, boxing me in against the wall. His sour breath assaulted my nose as he leaned down and stage whispered, “You can lie all you want to the cops, but I know the truth. I know what your sister did, and I know what they’re going to do to you if she talks.” His expression slackened as he grew suddenly sad. “The same thing they’re going to do to me.”
Ignoring the warning bells inside my head that urged me to flee, I asked, “Who is they?”
He shook his head and wagged his finger right in my face. “No, ma’am. I’m not saying a word.” He mimicked zipping his lips. “Then they’ll really fuck me up.”
“I’m two seconds away from fucking you up,” Ivan snarled, seeming to appear from thin air. He gripped Teague’s shoulder and spun him around, pushing him up against the wall. Looking down at Teague, he growled, “If you ever touch my wife again, I’ll cut off both your fucking hands. Understand?”
Teague shoved at Ivan, but it was useless against a man so much stronger and taller. “Fuck off, you big Russian asshole.” He shoved Ivan with both hands this time, but Ivan
didn’t move. “I had my hands all over your wife before you ever did.” He leered at me. “Not just my hands. My dick was—"
He didn’t get a chance to finish his filthy statement. In a flash, Ivan spun him around and yanked his arm behind his back. He used his greater height and strength to push Teague flat against the wall, smashing the side of his face against the glimmering gold wallpaper. He moved his mouth close to Teague’s ear and said something I couldn’t hear. Whatever it was, Teague paled and nodded rapidly.
A second later, Ivan whirled him away from the wall and shoved him down the hallway. He clenched his fists at his side, and I placed a hand on his chest, feeling his heart pounding against his sternum and his lungs expanding with amped up breaths. I rubbed his chest and drew his attention away from a scurrying Teague to me. He covered my hand with his, and I smiled gently. “Let’s go.”
He didn’t have to be asked twice. Leaving behind his hat somewhere in the main ballroom, he led me not to the valet stand outside as I expected but to the elevator bank. I shot him a questioning look, and he shrugged as if to say, “Trust me.” So I did.
We stepped into the next elevator, and he reached into his tuxedo jacket to retrieve his wallet. He pulled a hotel card key from it and scanned it. The elevator doors closed, and we started moving up toward the exclusive floors of the hotel. When the elevator stopped, he gave my hand a playful tug and led me to one of two doors on the entire floor. He unlocked our room and gestured for me to walk inside first.
Giddy with anticipation, I entered the opulent foyer and spun around to face my grinning husband. “Ivan!”
“So you like it?”
“Yes!”
“Good.” He shut the door and locked it behind him before closing the distance between us with long, determined strides. The soles of his boots tapped against the marble tile, and my heart raced as his heated gaze promised a night of wild bliss. His hands settled on my hips, and he bent down to nuzzle my cheek and then my neck.
“Why?”
“Because you deserve it,” he answered matter-of-factly. His big hands moved to the side of my dress where he had helped me zip up earlier. He lowered it slowly while dotting ticklish kisses along my bare shoulder. “I know it’s been hard for you. The robbery. Your sister.” He hesitated. “Our baby project.”
My eyes closed as he pushed my gown down my arms. Even though I wanted to get lost in the romantic moment, I realized we had to talk about what had happened downstairs. “About Teague—"
“No,” he interrupted gruffly. “I don’t want to hear his name again.”
“But he said—”
Ivan pulled back enough to gaze down into my eyes. “Is it something we can fix tonight?”
I shook my head. “No.”
“Then let’s leave it until tomorrow,” he urged and then kissed the protest right out of me. He pushed the dress down my body, skimming his hands over the swaths of naked skin he uncovered. He let loose an appreciative growl when I stood in only my thong, bra, jewelry and heels. “Don’t move.”
I didn’t dare. Standing there in the entryway, I watched him undress, peeling off layer after layer until he was barefoot in his boxer briefs. He reminded me of a lion as he stalked toward me. I trembled inside, trying to decide if I should run and make him chase me or stay right there and let him devour me.
I chose the latter.
He pushed me back against the closest wall and dragged my tiny thong down my thighs and legs until I could step out of it. He wasted no time getting what he wanted after that. He lifted my left leg and draped it over his shoulder, giving him the access he needed. He attacked my pussy like a starving man, shocking me with the insistent swipe of his tongue.
I started to sway, and he grabbed my other leg, lifting it up over his shoulder. He gripped my ass with one hand while the other stroked between my cheeks and then dipped into my wet heat. His tongue did incredible things to me, licking and flicking at my clit with just the right speed and pressure. He had learned and mastered my body and used that knowledge to drive me wild.
“No!” I cried out in protest when he pulled his mouth away from me. I was so close my legs were shaking. He smiled up at me and wiped his wet mouth on my belly. He lowered my legs and rose to his full height, towering over me and reminding me how big and strong he was. As if he wanted to drive that point home, he swept me up into his arms and carried me bridal style to the incredible bedroom of the suite.
Champagne. Roses. Pastries. Fruit. He had arranged for a romantic setup, and my heart almost burst with my love for him. “Ivan!”
“I planned to drink champagne first, but I can’t wait,” he admitted.
“It will keep,” I assured him.
He grinned at my enthusiasm and lowered me carefully to the bed. He covered my body with his, sharing his heat and warming me right up. His hands roamed my body, stroking and squeezing until I was panting with need. His thick fingers traced my labia, dipping between and swirling around my clit. He slid one finger and then two more deep inside me, stretching me and stroking inside for that spot that made me gasp. When he found it, I arched off the bed. “Ivan!”
“I want you to come for me,” he ordered before capturing my mouth. “I want you to soak my hand with your cum. Get so wet my dick slides right in, so you can take all of it, balls deep.”
“Ivan!” I gripped his wrist as he fingered me faster and faster. He moved his thumb over my clit, letting it rub against my swollen pearl with every thrust of his wrist. I was obscenely wet now, my body dripping for him and the promise of that huge cock. My thighs tensed, and I dug my toes into the soft bedding. He kissed me roughly, forcing his tongue between my lips, and I lost it. With a guttural groan, I did exactly as he asked. I came hard and soaked his hand.
I was still shaking and trembling with the aftershocks of my orgasm when he flipped me over, tossing me around on the bed and shoving my knees forward to cant my ass higher. The bed moved as he jerked down his boxer briefs and threw them. I screamed in shock when I felt his tongue, not his cock, on my pussy. “Ivan!”
He gripped the backs of my thighs and buried his face in me. My embarrassment at being licked like this faded quickly when his tongue settled over my clit. At that point, I lost all inhibition. He could do whatever he wanted as long as he kept fluttering his tongue right there.
When I started to pant and shake, he pulled his face away from me, drawing a moan of protest from my throat. He grabbed my hips and rubbed his shaft against my slick heat. With a forceful thrust, he buried his entire length inside me. I cried out at the shock and relief of being filled by him. “Ivan! Please!”
“Please what?” He gripped my hair in one big hand and tugged my head back. “Please what?”
“Fuck me,” I begged. “Fuck me hard.” I reached back and scratched at his thigh, desperate to get him deeper. “Wreck me.”
He growled like a bear and gave me exactly what I wanted. He took complete control, unleashing that beast within him that I craved more than any other. I would be sore in the morning, and I would probably have bruises on my hips and shoulders from his tight grasp. I wanted them. I wanted to see my reflection in the mirror and know that Ivan enjoyed my body so much he left his mark on me.
His thumb suddenly breached my bottom, and I gasped at the wild sensation of being penetrated in both places. I couldn’t help myself. I reached down between my legs and ran my hand along my vulva and then over his shaft to his testicles. He swore in Russian, filthy words falling off his tongue as I made him crazy by touching him in such an unexpected way.
Ready to come and hoping he was ready to go with me, I moved my fingers to my clit and touched myself. It didn’t take much to get me close and even less to push me over the edge. I screamed my husband’s name, begging him not to stop, begging him to keep going, and he obliged. He gripped my shoulders in both hands and drove into me, pushing me down against the mattress as he chased his own release.
“Erin,” he growled. “
Solnyshka. Angel.” He thrust deep and held still, his shaft throbbing inside me as he pumped me full of his seed. I panted beneath him, completely limp and satisfied. Unable to move, I let him turn me over and drag me onto his chest. I trembled with aftershocks, and he stroked my back and hair. “Happy New Year, baby.”
Sleepy and content, I murmured, “Happy New Year, Ivan.”
Chapter Seven
Even on a day when he was supposed to be enjoying some well-earned relaxation, Ivan couldn’t sleep longer than seven. His internal clock wouldn’t allow it. Not ready to get out of bed just yet, he turned onto his side and faced Erin. She was a deep sleeper. He swore a train could barrel through their bedroom and she wouldn’t even twitch.
The early morning fog in his mind cleared away as he remembered the run-in with Teague. His jaw clenched at the memory of that asshole forcing Erin against a wall and taunting her made his gut burn with anger. It had taken every ounce of restraint not to hit him last night. Had he been younger and wilder, less afraid of consequence, he would have unleashed hell on Teague’s face, but he was older now, married and understood that he had so much to lose.
Whatever Teague had said to Erin had rattled her. He felt some guilt at not letting her tell him last night, but he had planned everything for a romantic escape to make her feel special. He hadn’t wanted Teague to ruin the rest of their night.
Now, though, he wanted to know what Teague had said. He also wanted to know if Teague had treated her like that when they were together. Neither of them talked about their past lovers much. None of his relationships before Erin had ever lasted more than a few weeks, and she had confessed to never loving anyone until him. She had cared for the men in her past, but she swore that he was the only one who ever awakened feelings of actual love. He believed her. Losing her parents and having an older sister who struggled with addiction had left her aloof and afraid to be vulnerable. Maybe she had sensed the same thing in him. Maybe that was what had drawn them together that fateful day she had walked into his gym and asked for his help.