I linked my arm through Ivan’s, and we navigated the room towards the exit.
My gaze flicked to the rooftop doors as we left. Alexander was standing just inside the lounge. He leaned casually against the door frame, his hands pushed into his pockets and holding back the sides of his jacket to reveal the tailored dress shirt which was tight enough to show off every muscled line of his abdomen.
He watched me, his dark eyes following our movement.
And the heat of attraction rushed through me again, landing in my most intimate parts to tease me. I gasped softly, the intensity of his look almost bringing me to my knees. Ivan gripped me tighter, sensing my unbalance. It all fed into my lie. I was sick, unsteady on my feet. Weak.
I looked away from Alexander quickly, but the sight of him was seared into my brain. The feel of his kiss was branded upon my swollen wanton mouth, and I could deny it all I wanted, but we both knew that I’d wanted him to kiss me. And be damned or not, I wanted to see him again. I wanted his hands upon my body, and his lips kissing more than just my mouth.
*
Ivan steered the Bugatti deftly with one hand. His other hand was pushed into the bodice of my dress, his fingernails damaging the corset beneath. It was the kind that cinched at the waist, but barely contained the breasts with thin, narrow strips of material. Lace, in this case. He’d ruin it, but he didn’t care. He never did. Ivan hungrily pulled on my nipple and then kneaded my breast. He stopped for a moment, pulling his hand out to grab my own and drag it over the center console to place against his pants, over the throbbing hardness beneath the material.
I curved my fingers around the thickness, stroking it gently as his touch slipped back beneath my silky dress. After a moment, I tugged at the button of his bespoke suit pants, undoing it and then slowly drawing the zipper pull downward. I pushed between the teeth, my fingers finding skin instead of underwear. Ivan didn’t like the feel of another layer preventing his skin from touching the expensive suits he owned.
I focused on his dick, tightening my grip at the bottom, lessening it as I rubbed his hardness up to the tip. If I did it well, if I did it right, I could make him come here in the car. He’d be pissed about his suit, but he’d be satisfied. If he was satisfied, then he’d go to his study when we got home after changing. He’d do… whatever it was he did until the small hours of the morning before drinking and falling asleep on his sofa near the fire. And he wouldn’t make me fuck him.
He moaned as my fingers moved with determination. I felt the pulse in his dick jump as I caressed him. He writhed against the Italian leather seat, his hand leaving my body as he fought to control himself, and fought to keep the Bugatti on the right side of the road.
I silently begged him to come. My touch was desperate and urgent but with practiced skill, working against his warm skin until he came in a thick, hot stream, staining his pants and dripping on my hand as I milked him for all he was worth. Ivan shuddered, his eyes half closed, and it was all he could do to steer us into our driveway and press the garage opener. The front gate security and valet was off for the evening.
When he pulled to a stop inside the shadowed building, his eyes found mine. And then his hand unclipped my seatbelt and his fingers found the back of my head. He pulled me downwards, towards the warm cum and his now flaccid cock. I’d never actually been nauseous tonight, but as I twisted in my seat to give him what he wanted, and as he pushed my mouth down onto his limp dick, I felt bile fill my mouth.
I closed my eyes and pretended Ivan was someone else.
Someone who kissed me fiercely in the cool evening air beneath the stars.
Chapter Seven
Alexander
The blonde cried out with both pleasure and pain as my palm landed deftly on her backside. I smoothed my hand over the rising imprint, my hand already itching to give her another. She looked back over her shoulder at me, her eyes wide with delight and hunger and my mouth quirked.
I loved that look on a woman; where they didn’t know whether they were coming or going, whether to stop me or beg me for more. Confused by their own body’s response to the pain I gave them whilst simultaneously giving them pleasure.
She gasped as I reached down and cupped the space between her legs and gently, but firmly, smeared her own juices over her clit and all the way back to her asshole. Whimpering she pressed back against my hand, eager for me to touch her more firmly.
I swung back and spanked her ass twice as hard as previously for the misdemeanor, and she whimpered, her body going tense across my lap. She panted, desperate for me to fill her and so I pulled her body up and lay her on the bed before dragging her up to her knees. I ran my hand down her spine, watching as she lifted her ass up ready for me to fill her. I was hard already and so I climbed on the bed and readied myself behind her. My hands moved over her smooth flesh, still pink from my spankings and I held myself at her entrance before sliding into her. She groaned and lowered her head as I filled her to the hilt, my girth stretching her wider than she was used to.
“Yes, sweetheart,” I said, reaching to grab a fist full of her long hair and raising her head back up. Her back automatically arched and gave levity to the angle of my cock and I hissed between my teeth as she clamped tighter around me.
I swung my hand back again, eager to see the blossom of my palm on her skin, but no matter how much I thrust and how much I spanked, no matter how much she squeezed my cock for everything her pussy was worth, my mind was elsewhere. With someone else.
Marisha’s downcast face came into my mind, her hair thick and curled around her slender shoulders. Her plum lips swollen from my kisses. The point of her hardened nipples showing through the silky green material of her dress. God, she couldn’t have been wearing anything beneath, or if she was then it was impossibly thin. It had been so tempting—so tempting—to pull back the dress and see her excitement for myself. In the flesh, naked and real and obviously wanting me.
I groaned at the memory of her tongue on mine, the hunger in her kiss, the desperation to end it and the desire for more.
More. I wanted to give her so much more.
I had to see her again. No matter the consequences. I hadn’t imagined her desire—she had wanted me, then and there in the shadows of the rooftop. But the place, the timing, it was all wrong. I’d correct that the next time. And I’d fulfill her desire in such a way that she’d come away addicted, ruined, satisfied. Even if it was just for one night. I could live with that. One quick fuck and I could move on from her and she could go back to Ivan; he’d be none the wiser and we’d both be sated. Though one fuck with me was never enough for a woman.
Yes, I had to have her.
I’d thought a kiss would be enough, but it wasn’t. I wanted to see her body crumble beneath my firm grip, her skin blossoming under my touch, the join of our bodies as I slid inside of her, her tits filling my palm…
I came suddenly, gripping the pretty blonde’s ass with my large hands and holding her body tight to mine as I circled my hips, cock rubbing every inch inside of her, enticing her pussy to squeeze tighter around me as she chased her own climax.
“Fuck,” I groaned, sweat glistening down my chest and abs as I took a heavy breath. “Fuck.”
Marisha’s smile came into my mind, her plum lips spreading wide as her tongue darted out to taunt me.
I’ll have you Marisha Zolotov, mark my words.
*
“Father,” I sat opposite my father in his study, his gaze focusing on paperwork. For the Bratva King he was especially keen on always having the correct paperwork. The hilarity of that never failed to amaze me, but as my mother always said; a job worth doing, was worth doing properly… even if that job was being a ruthless mafia king.
Leaving a perfectly curated paper trail of all of our legitimate and… less than legitimate business dealings though, would always be humorous to me.
“Alexander,” he replied, looking up from his work and sliding his glasses off his face to see me
more clearly. “Did you enjoy last night?”
I hadn’t seen him before leaving the party and he was pissy about it. I didn’t blame him; it was unprofessional and not like me at all. I was his right-hand man; I didn’t shirk my duties. I wanted to learn every aspect of his business and be ready for his retirement. I had made a point of being beside him for every meeting for the past two years. Of course, that was not only for my own benefit. The soldiers needed to see the transition of power. The prominent businessmen and politicians under our thumb needed to recognize my authority. When the time came, the change of crown would be easier.
Unfortunately, I’d forgotten about last night’s planned meeting at the party between my father and the heads of a business venture gone unexpectedly South. The issues were a matter of supply and the market, so it was a clean affair. No blood involved. No violence necessary.
Regardless, a party was never just a party. No one, save for members of my immediate family, warranted a soiree of that caliber. There was always an ulterior motive. The champagne and the caviar and the fancy locations always served a secondary purpose—mafia meetings were less obvious dressed up in ribbons and bows.
But, hell, after fucking the blonde Nikolai and I had left and gone to a club. I wasn’t sure what time it was when I got in, but the sun was rising and I’d practically drunk myself sober. Thoughts of Marisha had haunted my every move. Every woman was her. Every kiss I’d stolen was hers. Every set of lustful eyes upon me were hers. I needed to have her and move on, and quickly. I couldn’t recall the last time I’d been so obsessed with a woman.
Never. The answer was never.
I lowered my gaze to the floor. “I’m sorry, Father.”
He remained silent, waiting for me to apologize more. He was a fair man, but his disappointment in me this time required a lot more begging than I was used to.
“I got distracted,” I began, “a woman, you know how these things can be.” Appealing to a man’s want of women and wine might have worked on another man, but not my father. Yet, to my surprise, he seemed to perk up at my words.
He looked interested now, his anger subsiding at the knowledge of a woman in my life. I hated to disappoint him further, but I couldn't have him assuming I’d found my wife.
“Another gold digger, unfortunately.” I looked despondent and he sighed and nodded.
“Many women were there last night, all eager to meet you, and you managed to find the whore among them, keen on your power and money only, Son.” He shook his head. “It might be time for your mother and I to find a match for you. We are already making arrangements for Katya with the Fedorov family. It is only right that you should marry first. You must secure your standing.”
Fuck!
“I don’t think that’s necessary,” I stammered, my usually calm facade splitting. “I’ll make more of an effort. Give me some more time.”
He watched me, his gaze thoughtful for several beats. “Very well,” he finally replied. He looked back down at his papers. “I hate doing this stuff, but I can’t trust anyone with it. Fucking traitors everywhere. It needs to be in order, needs to be organized.”
I was more than glad we were moving on from me, but I’d heard this argument many times over the years. Father wanted to delegate the work, but his ability to trust others with the most intimate workings of the family business was slim.
“Every time I think I’ve found someone I can trust they let me down and I have to cut their treacherous throats,” he grumbled.
“Or blow their brains out,” I retorted.
He glowered at me. I’d overstepped my mark.
“Apologies, Father. I just think sometimes it would be better to give people second chances rather than just kill them straight away,” I explained, trying to ignore the look of anger on his face. “Ivan, for instance…”
“Traitorous bastard!” he snapped. “Did you see him with his whore wife last night! Do you remember what her parents did? How they tried to sink us all? And then he takes her as his goddamned wife of all things! He used all of his favors with me on that. There is no more credit in the future to save him should he fall from grace.”
I stood up and made my way to his mahogany dresser and poured him a vodka. I handed it over and he drank it swiftly. Apparently, the thought of Ivan’s treachery in marriage had given him a thirst.
“Perhaps it’s time to try and heal the wound?” I suggested.
He thrust the glass towards me. “If you’re going to talk such nonsense, then I’m going to need more of that.”
I gave a low laugh and refilled his glass for him before handing it back over.
“I’m not suggesting he be forgiven right away, but he was an important member of the business—,”
“Until he started thinking with his dick!” he interrupted.
I chuckled. “Yes, until then. But she is a pretty creature, you can perhaps understand his desire?” I sat back down in my chair, letting the words rest between us.
“You saw her last night then?” he said, his hard gaze on me. He knew me too well.
I smirked. “I did.”
“And?”
I frowned in pretense. “She was attractive.” I shrugged. “I can understand her allure. And if what I hear is correct, she was pure too. A woman like that wouldn't normally look twice at a man like Ivan. Half his age and ten times as innocent. But, apparently, he was in talks with her parents for her hand before their treachery was revealed, was he not?”
“So you think that makes it okay then, Alexander? A man can betray his family and everything he stands for over a woman?” he admonished.
“No,” I replied thoughtfully. He raised an eyebrow at me. “No, not at all, but sometimes, the siren call of a woman is enough to make a man do stupid things. Did you see her last night? She was a frightened mouse, and he was a lion ready to pounce. I don’t think either of them are happy. Perhaps the union is punishment in and of itself, Father.”
My father laughed heartily and stood up. He moved to stand by the window, looking down on the large expanse of land below. He shook his head and turned back to me.
“A happy marriage is second to an heir, Son.” He smiled now, but his words were yet another push. Yet another reminder.
A prince who would be king must beget yet another prince who would be king.
And on into eternity.
Love was not important. A new body to assume the throne was.
I held out my hands in surrender. “And yet all men aspire to be as lucky as you, Father. Love as a lucky product of duty.”
My father and mother had met as children. They had been a perfect match from day one. Their families had agreed to the wedding, but it wouldn’t have mattered either way; my father would have had my mother as his wife regardless of what anyone else decided.
Love. We all sought it out, but many rarely found it. Especially in this life.
My father smirked, happy with my answer, but not so happy that he had no reply to it. He could not disagree with history. And we both knew, in this singular matter, he was a hypocrite. To judge others for the follies of love, yet not face his own heart.
He would have broken Bratva law to love her.
If I were to do the same, he would call me a cruel disappointment.
“So,” he finally continued, “you think I should forgive Ivan because his bride is pretty and he was blinded by her?”
It was my turn to laugh now. “Perhaps not forgive, but leniency would be better. Cutting him off completely serves to hurt us too, correct? His foothold in the shipping industry will ease product movement and we need the lead into the European market to keep supply and demand strong.”
He laughed again and shook his head. “You remind me of myself when I was your age, Alexander. Young and naive,” he said the words calmly, like they weren’t a huge insult to me. I scowled and he held a hand up. “Now, now, you’re not a child anymore. A man can take criticism without losing his head, and he knows when a lesson is
better learned. Set up a meeting with Ivan. I’ll meet with him and we’ll see what happens. Perhaps I will embrace this leniency you speak of.”
“I am not so naïve as to completely trust anyone outside our immediate fold, Father.” I shrugged, erasing the scowl upon my face. “We have had eyes on Ivan well before now, and I will instruct them to be ever more vigilant. To see all and miss nothing.”
Father nodded, his face still holding a note of humor.
I was momentarily insulted by his words calling me unseasoned, but I’d learned to trust his wisdom over the years. After all, you didn’t become the Bratva King by accident. Besides, I was getting my own way; he was meeting with Ivan and I would be meeting with Ivan’s wife.
I’d take her body; her kisses, her pussy and everything in between, and then I’d move on. One quick fuck and all would be well in my world again.
Yes, Marisha Zolotov would bend to my whim and then she could go back to her boorish husband and live her sad little life, kept company by the memories of being with me. A dream she could never have again.
Chapter Eight
Marisha
“Marisha, order something new to wear,” Ivan spoke casually as he ate his steak and eggs, flipping through the news on his tablet.
“Yes, Ivan,” I replied, glancing up at him.
Suddenly, he slammed his hand down on the glossy screen. “Dammit, Stefan Semenov’s been arrested.” He sighed, closing his eyes for a second, then standing abruptly and leaving his food unfinished. “I need to call my lawyers. I should have been notified immediately. I am so fucking tired of the Bratva morons I am forced to employ.”
Apparently, the Semenov family, longstanding Bratva blood, ran Ivan’s shipping business in New Jersey. Stefan was the youngest son. Trustworthy to a fault, but dumb as a box of rocks. He’d easily be manipulated by police. And if he was, the anvil would fall on Ivan and his cohort’s heads. Or so I had overheard from one of Ivan’s many business meals here. I heard a lot at these things. Men seemed to think that women were deaf to it all. That they didn’t hear the things they said. But we did. We heard it all and stored it away for future reference.
Deviant Prince: A Forbidden bad boy Mafia Romance. (Born to Darkness Duet Book 1) Page 5