Fuck, I wanted her. I began to grow hard, anticipating the body beneath the cream gown.
She looked up from her glass, still not having drank any. “Thinking?” she asked, looking puzzled.
I tutted again. “Please tell me that Ivan hasn’t taken away your ability to think for yourself.”
A smile danced on the corner of her lips. “No, though he prefers his wife seen and not heard.” She paused, worry flashing through her eyes.
I pursed my lips. “Such a waste.”
“My mind?” she asked with a small laugh.
I leaned forwards in my chair, placing my glass on the floor beside me. Her dress had opened again, the split flashing the treasures underneath and it took all I had to tear my gaze away.
“Yes, your mind. If your mind is half as beautiful as your face then it is a waste,” I said, to clarify.
Her blush deepened and she tore her gaze away from mine. “Stop it,” she whispered.
“Stop it?” I frowned. “It’s the truth. You’re beautiful, Marisha. Your face, your body… I’ve thought of nothing else since we kissed.”
Her eyes shot back to mine and she stumbled to a standing position as she shook her head frantically. “Alexander!” she gasped, my name a whisper on her lips, “you’ll get us both killed.”
I stood up, stalking towards her as she backed away. “Do you think I’m scared of a man like Ivan? I kill men like him before my breakfast. He’s nothing. A nobody.”
“You said he was like family? You said you knew him well enough to know the kind of man he is? If that’s true, then you should know that you’re playing with fire, Alexander. And maybe you won’t get burned. But I will.” Her hand went to her mouth, her gaze flitting between me and the door behind me and I chuckled.
“Marisha, don’t panic, he’s nowhere near here.”
Her eyes widened. “What? Where is he?”
Her back bumped into the pool table and I took the opportunity to close the space between us, placing a hand on either side of her body and effectively caging her in. We were barely inches apart, so close I could feel her rapid breathing against my cheek.
I dipped my face to hers. “They’re meeting on the opposite side of the mansion in my father’s office. Far from here.”
“But… but the butler. He could come back at any second,” she stammered out another excuse, another reason to keep me at arm’s length.
“The butler won’t bother us, Marisha,” I growled, body humming with anticipation.
Her pupils dilated. “What do you want from me, Alexander?”
A slow smile crept up my face. “The same thing you want.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” she protested, arching her back to put some distance between us. But it was futile. She wanted this as much as me, perhaps more. She was desperate for affection, for a gentler touch than what she was used to, but she wouldn't find that with me. The Vasiliev men didn’t fuck gentle, but we did know how to satisfy a woman better than that bastard Ivan.
I dipped my face to her throat, inhaling her musky perfume and she shivered, a soft moan leaving her. I closed the gap even more, until there was barely an inch between our bodies. I looked down, seeing her heaving breasts between the cut of the material on her dress, ribbons barely keeping the material clung together, and I raised my eyes to meet hers.
“Tell me to stop and I will,” I said, the throbbing in my pants growing restless. “All you have to say is, ‘Alexander, stop. I don’t want this.’”
A shudder ran down the full length of her body as I stroked a hand across her collarbone.
“I don’t want this,” she said, her cheeks blushing on the lie.
My hand moved up from her collarbone to grip her throat, tipping her face up to meet mine.
“Now say it without lying, Marisha.” I held her throat as I pressed a kiss to her mouth. It wasn’t gentle or tender, it was rough and demanding, a warning from my mouth to hers not to lie to me again.
I pulled out of the kiss, so she could catch her breath. So she could tell me exactly what I wanted to hear. I wouldn’t be sated until I’d heard her say the words. And like a blessing they came…
“I can’t,” she said, her throat swallowing underneath my grip, “I do want it. It’s wrong, and it’s likely to get me killed, but I want it. So much.” Her last two words were husky and full of longing heat.
“Tell me,” I growled, kicking her legs apart with mine so I could fill the space between them, my hard length pressing against her center.
“I’ve not stopped thinking about our kiss since last week,” she whimpered.
“More,” I replied, kissing my way to her earlobe.
“I touched myself last night while thinking about you,” she admitted, and I paused in my movements to look at her. “While Ivan lay snoring downstairs, I touched myself, thinking of you.”
“Did you come, Marisha?” I asked, my pants too tight.
She nodded. “Yes.” Her eyes were brimming with tears as she said the single word, shame marring her perfect face.
“No, Marisha, no tears. There is no shame in taking pleasure from your body,” I soothed.
“But my husband…”
I pressed another kiss to her lips, silencing her words I didn’t want to hear about that bastard Ivan. This moment was about me and about her. And this time she kissed me back. The kiss deepened and she moaned into my mouth, her hands finding their way to my hair. She arched her back, pressing herself against my length to gain friction.
I released her neck and picked her up in one swift movement, laying her flat on the pool table and spreading her legs wide, the side rail and cushion of the table lifted her ass even higher giving me a perfect view. I slid my hands slowly up her thighs, the split in the dress making it easier for me to get a good grip on her panties and slide them down her legs before pocketing them.
“Ivan,” she whimpered as I stroked my way along her thighs, spreading her wider with each caress.
“I don’t want to hear his name,” I said, my tone dark, “for the next thirty minutes you’re mine. This body, this pussy, is only mine, understood?” I split her lips with a thick finger, and she arched into my hand.
“He’ll kill us,” she said, her heady gaze focused on me. I lowered my head, kissing along her thighs until I reached the apex, sucking her clit into my mouth. Her hands found my head, her nails digging into my hair as I flicked my tongue and pushed another finger inside her.
I lapped at her as she grew wetter, her body bucking against my hand with each thrust of my fingers.
Standing up I unbuckled my suit pants before opening a condom and sliding it down my thick length. I gripped her legs and pulled them up to my shoulders, taking aim with my cock at her entrance. She mewled as I pressed against her clit with the pad of my thumb again, circling slowly. How I would have loved to take my time on her body. To spend hours making her come over and over, until finally, she was well spent and pliant in my arms. I’d fuck her until my knees buckled if I could.
But I really was on a limited timescale, having urged my father to give us thirty minutes alone to see if she would spill any secrets. I stroked down her silky thighs, loving how she whimpered for me. I wondered if she was like this for Ivan, or if she were silent and subservient. The thought made anger bubble inside of me, and I quickly pushed the thought away before I lost my hardon.
“What am I doing?” she whimpered, fear coming back into her features, the haze of lust parting.
“You’re taking one night for yourself, Marisha. One night to feel how a woman should feel when she’s with a man. One night to fuck and cum and give your body to a man instead of him taking it for himself,” I replied, honestly.
“One night,” she panted, her gaze slipping from mine and going back to the door.
“One night,” I agreed, as I thrust inside of her sharply.
Her body protested momentarily against my girth, before stretching to accompany my size. I slid
out of her, teasing her opening before slowly pushing myself back inside. I clamped an arm across her legs, and another reached for her throat, holding her body in place as I slowly fucked in and out of her. Each delicious punch of my cock hitting deep inside of her and making her gasp and tighten like a fist around me.
I slid a finger between her lips, and she sucked on it as her pussy clamped around my length. The slap of flesh on flesh as our bodies connected and came apart over and over had my balls drawing up ready to blow, but I wasn’t ready—she wasn’t ready.
Pulling out of her, I lowered her legs and slid her off the table. She stood on unsteady feet and I spun her around, bending her over the table and lifting her skirt up over her ass. I reared back to spank her but then caught myself just in time. If Ivan saw a handprint on her ass, she’d be dead before morning. I smoothed my palm over the pale flesh instead, the touch tender instead of fierce like I was used to.
Aiming myself at her entrance again, I slid back into her warmth with a groan. I gripped her hands and pushed them over her head, keeping tight hold of her fingers as I lay my body over hers and thrust my hips. Her body was pliant and eager as her orgasm unfurled in her belly before spasming deep inside her pussy and she arched back into my thrusts, keen for my cock to massage out the knot of pressure inside her. She clamped down on me as I came in long hot spurts, both of us holding our tongues instead of releasing our pleasures into the air in furious cries of passion.
The walls were thick.
Father and Ivan were far away.
But I knew if we opened our mouths and lost control, then the whole world would hear our release.
I continued to pump into her, long after we’d both finished coming, milking every drop of pleasure from each other's bodies. I stayed inside of her for long moments afterwards, softening inside her warmth, nestled between her folds, and wishing that this one night—this one time with her would be enough, but already knowing that it wouldn’t be.
One taste of Marisha and all I could think about was when I could have her body again. I released her hands and as she turned to look back at me over her shoulder, I could see from her heated gaze that she felt the same way too.
Chapter Ten
Marisha
When Alexander, the bloody prince of the Bratva, pulled himself out of me, I shuddered. As if my body had been holding onto one last mini orgasm, and the absence of him released it and sent it rushing through me in a wave of euphoria.
I stood up when I felt him no longer near me and my legs shook so badly that I had to turn around and sit on the edge of the pool table. I tilted my face back, enjoying the aftermath which felt like a million tiny bubbles bursting beneath my skin. A freshly opened soda bottle, fizzing to the top until everything went flat and too sweet.
Heat filled Alexander’s gaze as he watched me, though he had to be exhausted. I knew I was. I covered my face, embarrassment flooding through me, trying to chase away the tingling aftermath of what we’d done. I wanted to hold onto these feelings, pocket them away for moments in my life that were dull, grey, lifeless.
I wanted to remember how it felt with Alexander the next time Ivan satisfied himself with my body.
But, God, it wasn’t enough.
The minute it was over, with the warmth of him leaned against me and his hardness fading away, I wanted more.
Alexander was focused away from me now and I couldn’t stop watching him. He’d pulled off the condom and disposed of it, before readjusting his outfit, looking like he hadn’t just given me the best minutes of my damn life.
What had just happened obviously hadn’t affected him the way it had me. I don’t know what I’d expected. I’d heard more about him now, in a few casual conversations with other Bratva wives. I knew his reputation. He took what he wanted and moved onto the next woman. That sexual prowess was on constant repeat. And every woman, every single one, thought they’d finally bagged their instant rise up the status ladder.
I wasn’t any different. He’d seen me, wanted me, and I’d bent over and enjoyed every second of him taking me. That was the long and the short of it.
The long of it. I smiled to myself. Definitely not short. Or thin. Alexander was thick, and long, and he overfilled me to the point that I ached.
His father had murdered my parents… if only they could see me now.
“You might want to,” Alexander didn’t finish his sentence, waving a hand up and down to indicate the way my dress was hiked up to reveal my legs and my more intimate parts.
I stood hesitantly, making sure my legs wanted to support me now, and I pulled my dress back into place then wriggled my hips slightly to make the flowing skirt fall back into place. Between my thighs was sticky with my own juices, and I realized after walking that I didn’t have my panties. I glanced around the room, checking the floor, but didn’t see them.
“Have you seen my… my underwear?” I asked shyly.
He shrugged nonchalantly and fear gripped my chest. If they were somewhere in this room… I searched again, knowing how wild my eyes must look.
“Don’t worry about them. If someone finds them, they won’t exactly be surprised.”
His words hurt me, though I thought he meant to be reassuring.
There was a mirror over a bookshelf near the fireplace. I walked over to it, the euphoria of our encounter fading, and instantly wished I’d left my hair down the way I normally did, the way Ivan preferred it to be.
With deft fingers, I pulled the pins out of my hair and let the coppery gold strands fall down to brush against my shoulders before quickly pinning them back in place as neatly as I could. When I was done, the style looked almost the same. Almost.
Alexander came up behind me, and I stared into the mirror at him. Every bit of me wanted to turn around and kiss him, but that wasn’t what this was. No, this was sex. A carnal experience between two people. Anything more than that was beyond the realm of possibility here.
He was royalty.
I was already married.
I hated his parents, more than I’d ever hated anything in my entire life, and he hated mine.
Alexander’s hand lifted, his fingers hovering near my hair. He brushed the strands, and their softness tickled my neck. I tilted my head to lean into his touch. I didn’t even mean to; I just couldn’t fight this urge. It was such a small movement. It was nothing compared to the line we’d just blurred.
No, not blurred. Decimated.
I startled as the knob of one of the double doors into the room rattled and started turning.
Alexander, unfazed, moved away from me slowly. He was so controlled, his face a blank canvas waiting to shift into whatever response was warranted by the situation. A king in training.
The butler appeared as the doors opened wider.
“Your father requests your presence, Sir.” He bent at the waist, lowering his face and averting his eyes from where we stood, still so close together near the mirror.
“Of course,” Alexander nodded, then shifted his body just enough to glance at me, “It was good speaking with you, Mrs. Zolotov. I will be sure to report positively to my father. Second chances must continue to be earned.”
My stomach clenched, his words a brutal reminder of whose house I was in… a reminder of who I’d just slept with. “Thank you, Mr. Vasiliev.”
Alexander walked past the butler, and the latter didn’t move from his subservient position. Only when Alexander was out of sight did the sharply dressed servant stand up and direct his full attention to me.
“Mrs. Zolotov, your husband is waiting outside.”
“He’s… outside?” I questioned, confused. “It was my impression we were supposed to have dinner after he and Mr. Vasiliev spoke.”
“I apologize, Mrs. Zolotov, however plans have changed. Mr. Vasiliev had intended to dine with your husband, but has another last minute engagement.” It was a canned response.
Things hadn’t gone well. If they had, I would be heading to the dining ro
om, or forgotten while Ivan and Eduard ate together to celebrate a repaired relationship. But if the meeting was over… and they had not had dinner, and we were not to have dinner… God, Ivan and I should be sitting at some sort of giant ornate table eating from pristine ornate plates and using gold-dipped silverware. Things should have gone well. They needed to have gone well. But instead, my husband was standing outside waiting for me. What had happened in that meeting…
If Ivan was angry with the outcome, he would make it last. He would make it hurt. The limo, with all of its room to maneuver. Heaven, how I hated it.
“Do you mind if I use the ladies’ room before I leave?” I smiled sweetly, feeling my own hot wetness cooling on my inner thighs. I had to clean up before I left.
He led me out of the room and down the hall. The half bath was larger than our master bath at home, floating marble sink and elegant, curving faucet. Fancy hand towels were folded neatly beside decorative soaps.
I worked quickly, lifting the skirt of my dress up. I felt frantic, my pulse racing, so glad that Alexander had at least used a condom, making the clean-up a little easier. I couldn’t take too long, or it would seem suspicious. If Ivan asked about my lack of panties, I would simply tell him that I had not worn any, eager to be ready for his touch after the dinner. He would admonish me for acting less than virtuous when I was supposed to meet Evelina Vasiliev, but secretly he would be pleased that I wanted him.
“Fuck,” I muttered, scrubbing myself as well as I could before patting myself dry with one of the expensive monogrammed towels. It wrinkled instantly, making it obvious that someone had used it. I smoothed it as best I could, hands shaking. Every time I caught a glance of myself in the large mirror, I saw the flush to my cheeks and my just fucked hair. He would know but I didn’t know how to hide it. I couldn’t stop the heat from my cheeks and chest, the warmth that still ran through my body, or the feeling of swollen tenderness where Alexander had just been, but if I stayed here any longer, Ivan would be furious with me.
Deviant Prince: A Forbidden bad boy Mafia Romance. (Born to Darkness Duet Book 1) Page 7