Bullseye: Russian Mafia Romance (Minutemen Series)

by L. L. Ash

  My mouth popped open in shock.

  “And how do you expect me to move on with my life?” I demanded as he pulled on the thermal shirt he’d dug out. “You’re keeping me trapped in the middle of nowhere in a literal hole in the ground!”

  He gave a throaty laugh.

  “That’s true. Don’t worry, you’ll have someone new to wrap your tentacles around soon enough.”

  “Tentacles?” I gasped.

  “I’m not the only one who used someone, kisa,” he said with a smirk. “Your wily charms are pretty convincing, too. You can’t tell me that you weren't using me, knowing you were getting married, to get some orgasms and a good time. If I hadn’t known, maybe you would have been the one breaking my heart.”

  I took a step forward and whipped my hand out, delivering a slap right to his grinning cheek. Or at least, it would have if he didn’t snatch my wrist mid-slap.

  “Never get into a fight you can’t win,” he growled, his face not even an inch from mine before he dropped my hand and started zipping together some sleeping bags.

  I shoved my bag onto the floor and plopped down, absolutely convinced that I couldn’t sleep so close to him, even to get away from the creepy crawly things. Not bothering to take off my boots or coat, I folded myself into the bag and used my arm as a pillow before closing my eyes. The lamp flicked off and it filled the room with complete and utter darkness.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Maxim

  Five minutes. Maybe ten.

  That’s how long I gave her before she came crawling into the bunk with me. Women like her were tough on the outside, but when they were faced with the difficulties of reality, they crumbled. As sweet as she was, Mila was spoiled, and that was going to be a difficulty for her out in the wilderness in the middle of fucking Tibet.

  I’d planned this safehouse years ago. I’d put it all together, ditching my last one when it was compromised, and I left it here just in case. My ‘just in case’ had just happened to come in the shape of a curvy little sexpot that tempted me down to the fucking molecule.

  Wrapped up in my funky-smelling thermals and my jeans and t-shirt over top, I was nice and cozy. Mila on the other hand, was tossing and turning on the ground, staying warm by clutching onto her burning anger.

  It would work for a little while, but the weather got down to fourteen or fifteen degrees fahrenheit at this time of the year, and underground it was no doubt we’d reach single digits. Mila, the princess that she was, would freeze if she didn’t check her pride and accept body heat when it presented itself. Since mine was the only warm body around, well, that just meant she was fucked. And so was I.

  Watching her shiver in front of the fire had my heart aching. I didn’t like it one bit when she was even fucking uncomfortable, and I didn’t know why. I’d never cared about a person’s comfort. Not after Mom passed, anyway. I didn’t give one flying shit if someone was in pain or if I had to use an innocent to take down the guilty. I didn’t leave a trail of innocent bodies. No, that wasn’t my thing, but sometimes compromises had to be made because if the evil bastards don’t get taken down, they would leave a trail of bodies, so thick and wide you could pave a road through China. But Mila? She wasn’t an acceptable sacrifice, no matter how much I tried to argue away my feelings of guilt.

  I shouldn’t have gotten so close to her. I wasn’t the great Serge who could fuck and move on. Sex actually meant something to me, which was why I didn’t do it a whole lot unless the woman knew that it was contracted for a single night, or sometimes less. And when she—

  “I hate you,” I heard Mila mumble as she got up from the ground and made her way toward me.

  I rolled my eyes and scooted over so she could slip into the cocoon I’d made by zipping two bags together. Big enough for two.

  “What’s the matter, princess?” I asked, letting my asshole nature run away with me because I was just feeling too Goddamn much while being too Goddamn tired. “You feel a pea down there?”

  Unzipping the bag, she slid into it with me before turning her back and curling into herself, which was fine with me.

  “Can you move?” she asked me, wiggling her ass into my cock like I was a lump in the bed.

  Grunting, I shifted so she wasn’t giving my little dude so much contact.

  “Sure. Let me just move to the other side of this fucking king size bed. You’ll have plenty of space.”

  “I liked you better as a Russian,” she spat, grinding harder to try and push me off the bed, evidently, even though my back was to a wall. “You were way nicer than this American you.”

  “Yeah, well guys will go to some pretty extreme lengths to get some snatch, so...”

  “You’re despicable,” she breathed in disbelief, turning until I could feel her breath against my face.

  “Maybe, but at least I’m honest.”

  “You’re also a bastard.”

  “Well, that’s true in more ways than one,” I admitted with a bitter chuckle.

  “I hate you.”

  “I heard hate fucks are the hottest,” I said, just to get a rise out of her, but I could hear it.

  I could hear the way her breath caught in her throat, then started getting faster.

  She was just as fucking turned on as I was.

  “You heard?” she scoffed quietly. “Surely you’ve left a trail of women hating you over the years. They could probably start a club.”

  Fuck it all… I was going to hate myself in the morning.

  Driving forward, I followed her warm stream of breath until my lips were on hers, crushing a punishing kiss to her mouth.

  She gasped against my lips, pushing her hand into my chest fiercely, before curling her fingers into my shirt, fisting the fabric like I was her lifeline.

  Yeah, this was happening.

  My mouth began to move and she met each move and stroke of my tongue with hers, opening her mouth to me with a wide invitation.

  Hmm. Maybe ‘they’ had something on this hate fucking stuff. It was the hottest kiss I’d ever had, and I couldn’t even see her with how dark it was in the room.

  “I’m going to pretend you’re Kir,” she breathed against my lips, just to piss me off.

  I barked out a laugh before moving down to her neck, brutally biting and sucking until she was probably a scene of red polka dots.

  “That pencil-dicked asshole couldn’t give you half of what you want, kisa. I’m sorry for spoiling you for the rest of mankind. Nobody will ever meet up to your first time.”

  “Not even you?” she ground out, dropping her head back to give me better access to her throat.

  Moving my mouth down her neck, I slid my lips across the artery there… Until it met her wool coat.

  It took some patience and maneuvering, but we managed to get her out of her coat and tossed it onto the floor between the bunk and the other storage shelves, all without getting out of the warm nest we’d created in those sleeping bags. I got onto my knees, stretching the zippers to their limits as I ripped open the silk and no doubt expensive button up top she was wearing before I resumed my polka dotting on her skin.

  Her breath kept hitching, back arching into my mouth as I ripped down the cups of her bra and devoured her tender breasts. Nobody was worried about being quiet, and damn, the darkness really helped cut the guilt that I probably should be feeling for doing this again. Didn’t matter. I needed it, and so did she.

  You know what I also needed?

  Her naked.

  With a moment of awkward fumbling, I managed to get the button of her slacks open before slipping my hand past the zipper. What I found there was what felt like lace panties that were absolutely soaked through. Just for me.

  A needy moan escaped her mouth as she scraped those pretty little manicured nails down my shoulder, but the sound was nothing compared to the aching plea she made when my fingers slipped under the band of her underwear and slid through damp curls and into her cunt.

  Those nails went from s
craping my shoulder to grasping for the hair I used to have on top of my head. Yeah, she’d liked it the first time, digging into it more than once, but I didn’t like hair I had to worry about or fuss over, and if I missed a shower for a day or two, nobody was the wiser unless I smelled like shit.

  It almost hurt, the biting sensation her little claws made, but I liked it. Pain was good. Everything good in my life had been born in pain, so why should this be any different?

  When she seemed to get used to the feeling of one finger in her, I slid it out and ran over her needy little clit, swollen and begging for some attention before I slipped that finger back into her, letting another join in the party.

  Mila bore down on those fingers, squeezing for all she was worth, especially when I found that nice little rough patch that told me I’d uncovered her g-spot.

  “F-fuck!” she breathed, the word coming out in English, although she had a british accent to my home language.

  “Not yet,” I said, letting myself bathe in the familiarity of my first language. “I’m not inside you yet, sweetheart.”

  She growled like my words pissed her off, so I just shoved my fingers into her a little harder, grinding up into that little spot with my fingertips until she was squirming and panting under me.

  No more fooling around. I cupped my thumb around her pussy and massaged her clit, circling it in slow, rough strokes while my other fingers did all the work. Then she was screaming right in my face, giving me exactly what the fuck I wanted. Her. On every level; wild, free.

  As she caught her breath, I dragged my fingers away to open my own jeans and shove down the layers I had swathed myself in before going to bed. I hadn’t anticipated anything close to this when I’d gone to bed, but there we were. My hand gripped my cock for a second, just to settle it down a little because I was really close to blowing my load after listening to her come. I aimed it toward her pussy in the dark, blindly searching for her wet heat.

  It didn’t take long. Funny how animal instincts work like that. I could probably find Mila’s cunt in a black forest with two miles between us. Nothing could stop me.

  Except her, I guess.

  My tip hit her soaked lips and she gasped into the crook of my neck.

  Then I shoved in.

  Holding it there for a moment for her to get used to my size again, she held onto my neck tight, probably trying to keep me from moving. But that cherry was popped good and proper last time, so the pain she was probably anticipating shouldn’t be anything but hot pressure and the pleasure of good sex.

  “Oh my God...” she worshipped the moment I started moving again inside her.

  And fuck me...it was so good. Her skin sliding against my cock felt like heaven. Never. Never, had it felt that good. And it wasn’t just because I wasn’t wearing a condom.

  It was so good because it was me. No pretending. No acting or half-truths. Mila knew exactly what I was and wanted me balls deep in her anyway.

  Mila’s hands bit into my sides, her legs wrapping around my hips as I pumped, giving her a good ride. But I wanted to feel her again. If I couldn’t see the euphoria on her face, then I wanted to feel it, Goddamn it.

  My hand slipped between us, my thumb slipping into her slit to rush against that little nub over and over again with each thrust of my hips. It had her panting and whining and praying until her orgasm overcame her in one huge fucking wave of tightness. And that was all she wrote for me. With some throbs of my own, I came inside her, dragging out the feeling as long as I could for both of us before pulling out and giving her some space.

  Fuck me, we needed some space after that.

  She just laid there, breathless and recovering until the small words left her lips, “you didn’t use a condom.”

  Well, I knew why I didn’t, but she didn’t.

  “I’m sterile,” I told her in the black bunker. “You can’t get pregnant. Promise. And I’m clean.”

  I didn’t know how she took it because I couldn’t see her face, but her body moved, as she dragged up her pants again and fixed her top as best she could. I followed suit and pulled up my jeans before settling beside her, fully aware that I might have just fucked up an already volatile situation all to hell.

  A second later I heard the distinct breathy puffs of sobbing, although it was so quiet.

  Did I do that? Was she crying because of me?

  My guts twisted with regret as I touched her shoulder, ready to beg her to forgive me, but I didn’t need to. She didn’t turn away from my touch. When I cradled her in my arm, back laid out flat against my chest, she let me. She even turned into it a little while she cried.

  And I just let her.

  Normal human beings cried for a lot of reasons. They cried from happiness or sadness, stress and anger. Mila had been through enough in the past few weeks to deserve a whole hell of a lot of tears. I just prayed that they weren’t because of me.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Mila

  When I woke up the next morning, it was with an ache between my legs and puffy eyes.

  Max was gone, and I was...stressed. I didn’t know why I let him fuck me. There was no pretending it was anything other than that. There was no love, no caring. It was pure, carnal need and stress needing an outlet. Although it didn’t seem to do much to alleviate my stress levels, because I was having an internal anxiety attack every few minutes when I let myself think on what had happened over the last few days.

  It felt like a bad dream that I just couldn’t wake up from.

  I eventually managed to crawl out of my warm cocoon on the bunk when my stomach started to grumble in protest at me. What I wouldn’t do for a latte and fresh bread with butter.

  It was dark in the little underground room. Cave. Whatever it was.

  I fumbled around in the darkness, my feet eventually feeling my wool coat on the floor and my shoes pushed up against one of the shelves across from the bunk, so I put it all on before venturing out into the cold. The little stove was hot with a small fire and water sat on top in a pot boiling away. A teabag sat inside another tin cup and a bag of something sat beside it on the marginally cleaned floor.

  Lovely. Breakfast.

  I had to bunch up my torn shirt around the pot handle to pour the water into my cup, but the satisfying steam was enticing as I tried to figure out what the mystery packet of food was and how I was supposed to cook it. There were no instructions on it, English, Russian or otherwise, so I just tore it open a little to see what it was. A waft of salt hit my nose first, then a bit of sweet. Opening it further, I could see little nuts peeking back at me and dried fruit mixed in. So I didn’t even get breakfast. I was supposed to eat a snack for sustenance.

  Heavy thumps pounded the ground outside while I was halfway through munching my breakfast, and my whole body froze. It sounded like boots. Big boots. It had to be Max, right?

  I was in the process of squirming back into the hole when Max entered the cabin, working his boots off at the door.

  “Oh my God...” I breathed when I recognized the man.

  He looked up at me through his lashes while he undid his laces and inquired, in his practiced American English, “what?”

  “You scared me,” I breathed back in the foreign words. “I thought you were...not you.”

  He rolled his eyes but smirked.

  “I’ve been scoping out something to eat for dinner while you were sleeping in. Bunk is comfortable, huh?”

  Sure. My need to sleep was absolutely because the bunk was comfortable. It had nothing to do with the trying days we had mixed with incredible, exhausting sex afterwards.

  Thinking back to that moment in the dark and the sounds he made, and the sounds he made me make brought a flush over my cheeks.

  “We need to talk about that,” I whispered and he lifted an eyebrow.

  “Talk about what?” he asked, reaching for the hot pot that still had a bit of water in it.

  He took the tea bag out of my cup and put it in the pot to ste
ep another cup of it without asking me if I was done with it.

  “About how you didn’t use a condom out in a place I can’t go and get a secondary pill.”

  He licked his lips, not looking up at me.

  “Thinking about that, were you?” he asked, a smirk back on his brutally handsome face.

  I’d asked the night before, but he’d only given me a partial answer. I had to know it all.

  “Maxim. Tell me.”

  He pushed the tea bag around a little, then plopped down onto the wooden floor right across from me.

  “I got a vasectomy when I was twenty-four. I knew I didn’t want kids and I never anticipated getting married. It was just smarter all the way around.”

  I was shocked.

  “That is far too young to decide on something so monumental.”

  “I was a sniper in the US Special Forces. I put my life on the line every fucking day of the week. I was lucky if I was going to live to thirty, so no, it’s not too young to make a decision like that.”

  Sniper. Special Forces. He was a military man.

  “Are you still in the military?” I asked quietly, hoping he’d answer me instead of freezing me out like he tended to do.

  “No,” he said simply, pushing around the tea bag again.

  His posture told me he wanted nothing else to do with the conversation, so I bit my tongue. Momentarily.

  “What are we going to do here then?” I said instead of asking the dozens of questions that were on the tip of my tongue.

  “We’re sitting it out.” He sighed, tossing a few small logs into the little oven. “So we stay quiet, we go unnoticed, and then we go our separate ways when the whole mess is done.”

  “What mess?” I whispered.