by Warren, Rie
“Unless what?” Curiosity gnawed at me.
“Nothing.” A slow smile formed crinkles at the corners of his depthless eyes when he stood back up.
He stalked toward me in that sexual, prowling gait that made my insides quake.
I stood my ground, pulling my shoulders back, meeting his glittering gaze.
“What?” My voice came out breathier than I’d hoped.
Halting right in front of me, Kirill hooked a finger into the belt I’d cinched around the waist of his shirt I wore as a dress.
He towed me slowly toward him, each step a delicious promise I knew he could deliver on.
He wanted to deliver on, as much if not more than his punishment that had clearly addled my brain.
“What?” I asked again, my voice even reedier that time.
My breasts mashed against his muscled chest, my tummy fluttering when his undeniable erection crushed against me.
“I want to revisit that kiss you were about to give me.” His rough palm burrowed beneath my hair, and he palmed the nape of my neck. “Down at the bar.”
“You were gonna kiss me.” I licked my lips as delirious desire tangled me all up inside.
“You almost came when I had you thrown over my lap.” His words whispered across my mouth.
The mortification of being spanked over his knee like a naughty schoolgirl came back to me, except there’d been nothing childish about either of our reactions.
I tipped up onto my toes to get closer to him, my arm curling around his shoulders.
His Adam’s apple bobbed against my fingertips when I set my other hand against his throat.
His dark eye shuttered briefly.
Then he lowered me back to my feet and set me away from him as sparks shot from my swollen nipples to my engorged need.
My toes would’ve curled if not for the damnable stilettoes.
“Come. Bed.” He spoke in a gruff and husky tone, silky voice gone hoarse.
I wondered if bed meant getting what my body so clearly and inexplicably craved at that point.
Inside the bedroom, Kirill offloaded his various weapons and placed them on a bedside table, shooting me a warning look from beneath lowered eyebrows.
Smoldering heat coursed through my body as I weighed the true implications of sleeping next to a man like him.
One who took what he wanted when he wanted with no apologies before or after.
Yet, he could’ve just kissed me, and I would’ve been willing.
He didn’t.
Had I been kidding myself about his reactions to me?
And why did I even care if he was attracted to me or not?
More than likely, Kirill lived under the same rule my brothers did—women were to be seen not heard, and most damn women were more than capable of using their bodies and sex appeal to get inside a man’s head to use him to her whims.
I stood uncertainly on the opposite side of the bed. “I’m allowed to use the bathroom?”
“Da.”
I shut the door behind me, and that time he didn’t even kick it open to make sure I wasn’t fashioning a weapon or something from a toothbrush.
Speaking of toothbrushes, an extra one in a brand-new wrapper had appeared out of nowhere.
At that point, a diamond necklace would’ve paled in comparison to this one simple toiletry item.
Who was I kidding? I’d rather have a KA-BAR as long and lethal as Kirill’s than any damn diamond in the world.
I washed up quickly, brushing my teeth too.
When I stepped from the bathroom, Kirill moved past me and into the vacated room without a word.
I quickly slipped off the high heels and tiptoed to the bedroom door, checking the handle.
Locked.
Again.
Before he invaded the room again, I had just enough time to pad my way to the corner of the bed where I’d stuffed the ties he’d bound me with earlier. As he exited the bathroom, I swiftly kicked the makeshift bindings underneath, hoping to stop him from doing it again.
His smirk told me he knew exactly what I was up to.
“Please tell me you wear something to sleep in at night.” My eyes skipped over his powerful form.
A breathtakingly sensual grin changed his whole stark demeanor. “Nyet.” He began unbuttoning his shirt at the cuffs with a masculine turn of his strong wrists. “And neither are you.”
I pivoted quickly, holding my breath.
I heard each movement he made, super-sensitized to the sound of the teeth of his zipper, the snap of his belt, the shift of a shirt.
I knew the tingles tightening all across my body wouldn’t die down regardless of the fact the man had threatened my life and murdered at least three people earlier in the evening.
“Your turn.” His silken voice caressed over me, and I could tell he stood naked behind me.
Only when I heard the distinct rustle of covers and the creak of his bed did I unloop the belt from my waist.
“Can you at least turn off the light?”
“Nyet.”
Fine.
Since he was so obstinate, I made a huge show of undressing. I coyly tossed the belt in any old direction. I glanced over my shoulder as I undid the shirt, rolling one hip out.
He reclined on an elbow, black eyes slit at me and swarthy color staining his high cheekbones.
Pulling both arms behind my back, I shimmied the shirt from my shoulders, down my back, over my jutting ass.
He gave a low growl.
So hot.
I tossed my last bit of clothing aside, sauntered to the bed and Kirill, and slinked nude beneath the covers.
He immediately fisted a handful of my hair and flipped me to my back.
Hovering above me—sculpted muscles carved out and tattoos stamped across his skin—he held his powerful body just away from me.
And I suddenly yearned for more intimate contact.
“Are you going to tie me up again?”
“Not if I get that kiss after the entertainment you just gave me.”
I lunged up, giving in to unchecked, unwise impulses.
There was no soft brush of lips . . . we dove full-on. Our mouths met, parted, and tongues delved deep inside.
I tasted everything hot and savage about him—the power, the ferocity, the undampened flame.
Still claiming my lips, he molded his body against mine. He eclipsed me with his much harder, much bigger, much stronger form, and I felt all of him in one dizzying rush.
My hands fanned from his broad shoulders to trim waist to his flexed buttocks as he angled my neck so our mouths met at an even better angle.
A flood of wanting surged through me.
Kirill’s cock soldered so thick and heavy along my slit. His ass pumped and his tongue slashed and a wild grunt thickened from his throat.
I wondered if this was what true passion felt like.
I reached up for more, threading my fingers through his hair.
His hand rode down my back to my ass, and he lifted me even more completely against him.
Intensely aroused, I wound my legs around his coarsely haired thighs, the hot shaft of his erection slicing up along my sex again.
He rutted against me just one more time before pulling away with restrained jerky movements.
Smoldering with a palpable craving, I almost crawled on top of him to take what I wanted.
He collapsed to the bed beside me, hard-driven breaths chugging in and out of his mighty chest.
I whimpered with need, curling my hands at my sides.
One of my fingers brushed against the steely musculature of his thigh, and he rolled his head toward me.
I stared up at the ceiling, willing my heart to stop rattling around beneath my swollen aching breasts.
The climax he could’ve given me not once but twice simmered just beneath the surface, firing into desperate urgency.
Even in the dim light I could make out his slow-spreading smug smile.
&
nbsp; With a loud huff, I flipped to my side, curling up to try to contain all the burgeoning lust pounding through me when he could’ve been pounding into me.
Bastard.
Leaving me unsatisfied as if he could just turn it off.
The mattress shifted when he moved and, a second later, the light clicked off.
Everything shifted again when he closed the gap between us.
He lifted one of those big brawny thighs over my legs and wrapped a ridiculously strong arm around my middle.
His uneven breaths fluttered the hair near my ear before his deep voice licked up more reaction that trembled inside of me. “Go to sleep. It’s late. We’re safe. You’re safe here.”
I relaxed into him but trying to get comfortable proved difficult when a naked god spooned me, and my body continued to hum with unmet need.
I huffed loudly and readjusted in a jostling manner.
The low insistence of his voice rumbled against my neck. “Remember what I said about wriggling around when I tied you up earlier. Same rules apply when you squirm like that with your bare ass against my cock.”
That me wiggling like that turned him on. Brute.
He could’ve done something about that if he’d really wanted to.
“Well you already have a hard-on, so I don’t see what difference it makes.” But the feel of his cock slanting rock-hard against my bottom was doing nothing for my peace of mind either.
“The difference is, malyshka, I want to drive my cock inside of your tight wet pussy so hard you weep then fuck you until you’re a wrecked mess. But I refuse to give you any pleasure until I can be sure you’re not just playing me.” His hand moved to my breasts, and he cupped one mound gently.
I didn’t shrug him off.
I liked the weight of him draped over me.
I did however serve him a last bit of snark. “Who says I’m wet?”
“I can smell your cunt. Smells delicious. Just like when I was spanking your ass earlier.” Brushing my hair aside with his lips, he whispered at my ear, “I can’t wait to taste you on my mouth.”
I went very, very still, and he chuckled in a low throaty tone.
* * *
I must’ve fallen asleep hard, because the next thing I knew, sunlight blasted against my closed eyelids.
I shifted a little. The last thing I remembered was heavy exhaustion blanketing over me while Kirill’s strong arm held me in a warm, safe-feeling embrace.
A distant ringing noise drove against my skull, and I slit my eyes open.
In the next second, I jolted up.
Correction. I tried to jolt up, but I couldn’t move my arms.
That . . . that pee hole dandruff!
Eyes wide and neck stretched back, I saw Kirill had bound my wrists to his bed again.
At that very moment the man I wanted to murder with my bare hands strolled into the room.
Even from a distance, he smelled of coffee and the light manly musk of cologne.
I picked up a hint of tobacco too, although I hadn’t seen him smoke yet.
I tracked him with my glare, my gaze flitting over him. The arrogant thug had already showered and dress, damp hair turning just a bit lighter as it dried. A sparkling awareness crashed over me—I’d missed seeing him getting up from bed, gloriously naked in full daylight.
This time he wasn’t dressed in a suit but a pair of jeans that followed the strong lines of his long legs and a T-shirt, which stretched across his bulging biceps.
Whatever.
In a suit or wearing jeans, he was still a monster.
My jailer.
Cheeks burning, I redoubled my glare.
“How are you this morning?” His pleasant tone irked me down to my bones.
“How do you think?” I scathed.
“Probably not grand?”
“You tied me up again? How did I sleep through that?”
His damn smirk deepened. “Guess I wore you out last night.”
My simmering anger redlined.
But that was nothing compared to the righteous rage flooding me when the ringing noise intensified, and I realized what it was.
“That’s my ringtone.” The one I’d chosen for Lucky.
His eyes never straying from mine, Kirill pulled my phone from his back pocket.
“That’s my phone!” Kicking out my legs—the only part of my body that remained free—I inadvertently flipped the lightweight blanket off of me.
“Yes, it is.” Kirill advanced, placed the screen in front of my face, and unlocked my device.
I tried to hit him with my foot, but he sidestepped easily.
“Hello.” He held the phone close to his mouth.
The mouth that had kissed me clean last night.
“Is she alive?” Lucky’s disembodied voice echoed on speaker.
“I’m here! Lucky, it’s me!” I shouted, scrambling to get free of the bonds holding me to the bed.
Kirill ignored me. “You haven’t received any body parts yet, have you?”
The frigid smoothness of his timbre poured ice through my veins.
Lucky swore heavily before asking, “Can I talk to her?”
I screamed my throat raw, watching with horror as Kirill took the phone off speaker.
“Nyet,” he muttered to my brother. “Give me a second.”
After placing the phone down, he stalked over to me.
Paying no attention to my nude state, he opened a drawer in the bedside table. He lifted out a precisely folded handkerchief.
“Lucky!” I shouted one last time.
Then Kirill stuffed the cloth between my teeth, tying the ends behind my head.
Nostrils flaring and tears popping out at the corners of my eyes, I thrashed again.
Leaving me bound and gagged, Kirill prowled from the room with my phone, closing the door after him.
9
Kirill
“I SWEAR TO FECKING god, if you hurt a hair on Jo’s head, I will bring your club down around your head. Your remains will be unrecognizable after the payback I have planned.”
Lucky the unlucky oldest brother of the O’Sullivan mob spewed threats he couldn’t possibly carry out to completion.
Just as charming as his little sister, I saw.
I held the phone away from my head, walking down the hall. “Are you done?”
“I wanna talk to her.”
“And I said no.”
“All this over some booze?”
Also no, not anymore, not after last night.
I’d hardly slept at all. Rest eluded me with Jo in my arms. How could a woman with such a sharp-edged tongue be so silky soft? With her eyes closed and her mouth shut, she became something else entirely.
I was used to fucking a woman to exhaustion then rolling to my other side and catching some well-earned shuteye.
Shuteye proved impossible with my throbbing cock saddled up against Jo’s surprisingly lush backside, still warm from my spanking. Her high tipped tits fit perfectly into my palms, also surprisingly lush.
And when she yawned or smacked her lips or even snuffled and tried to halfheartedly swat me away, she was adorable.
Adorable?
I focused on my phone call, dropping my voice. “You thought you could trick us. You must know my reputation. I’m not averse to killing to make my point clear.”
“My sis had no part in any of that.”
I scoffed. “Just when she delivered the piss water every week and pretended to be a boy.”
“You weren’t supposed to find out.”
“That she isn’t a boy, or that the O’Sullivans decided to pull a fast one on us?”
“Both, you goddamn rotten Russkie.”
“Either you get to the point of this discussion, or the call ends. You called me, Lucky.” I clenched the phone in my hand, waving Boris away when he came running over to me for some loving.
Issuing threats that I fully intended to carry out was in my nature.
Ga
gging Jo sure helped.
The mafia was a kill or be killed world, and I’d already assured Yury I’d dust Joanna if need be.
“We want to meet,” Lucky said.
“Why?” My gut hollowed. “I’m not trading her back. Not yet.”
Not ever, the beast inside me howled.
“We have a different proposition.”
“Who is we?” I scowled at the screen and the name on the phone.
“My brothers. We want to meet with you and yours. Not our da, and not Yury.”
I stood at attention. “You expect me to go behind my pakhan’s back just because of your foul-mouthed sister for some reason?”
“You shouldn’t talk about her that way.”
“After you put her life in danger with that wild attack last night? You fucking care now?” Concern leaked through the anger in my voice.
The irony wasn’t lost on me. While we discussed the welfare of the woman in question and who was to blame for her plight, I had her tied up and gagged in my bedroom.
My combative stance tightened. “We have the precious O’Sullivan daughter who appears to be on the radar of a lot of men when no one really even knew she existed. We have the upper hand.”
Lucky flung a few more curses around.
“Tell me why we should meet you and not expect to be gunned down?” I couldn’t wait to hear this.
“You don’t know the whole story, man. If you did, you wouldn’t even think about hurting Jo, I promise you that.” His tone less belligerent, Lucky added, “You abducted her. She’s your responsibility now. Don’t let your fucking Bratva ego get in the way of what’s really going on.”
He had some damn balls, I’d give him that.
But he was speaking in riddles, and I needed to know how the hell this all fit together with Jo as the centerpiece of the puzzle.
“Text me a time for tonight and a neutral location.” My finger paused over the end-call button. “If we show, we’re open to listening. If not, you can start looking for those body parts.”
Clicking off Jo’s phone, I mulled over the implications of meeting the O’Sullivan brothers.
Another trap? An ambush? Or did they think they could somehow snag baby sis from right under my nose?
I took my time making breakfast, glad Arkady was nowhere to be seen as I prepared scrambled eggs, crispy bacon, fresh coffee, and toast for the vixen. I may not have Baba’s skill when it came to the culinary, but my breakfast fare wouldn’t kill Joanna. The girl might turn her nose up at caviar—infidel—but fluffy seasoned eggs couldn’t go amiss.