by Renee Rose
“What does happen when I make Yuri jealous?”
His smile grew wider. He fucking loved it when she flirted. He’d never in a million years expected her to drop to her knees and offer to blow him. Especially not after he’d punished her. Despite the fact that he’d just orgasmed, his cock jerked with renewed interest. He pulled her across his lap and stroked her reddened ass. “I will spank you,” he said, his accent growing thicker with lust. “And then I will discipline you here.” He parted her cheeks and wiggled the pad of his index finger over her anus.
She gasped and squeezed her cheeks together, as if to force him out.
“That’s right, beautiful girl. You will get your ass fucked by me. Maybe with my thumb. Maybe my cock. Maybe I will make you wear a plug to remind you not to make the Russian mad.” His middle finger strayed between her legs, brushing over her juicy pussy.
She gave a little mewl, humping his lap.
He squeezed and kneaded her ass.
“You’re crazy,” she panted.
“True.”
She rolled her shoulders slightly on the bed, twisting to look back at him. “It’s mostly an act though. Right, Yuri?”
His breath stalled in his chest with shock.
The only other person who ever saw past the crazy Russian act was his mentor, Leo. The man who’d tried to rescue him from mafiya madness. That the woman he’d give anything for had also seen the real him made his chest feel like it would explode. Not even he knew who the real him was.
Still, he deflected. “Don’t count on it.” He stroked her ass, dragging his palm down toward her thigh like smoothing feathers. “You’re not afraid of me, are you solnishko?”
It didn’t matter what she said. He knew she wasn’t. She lay relaxed over his lap, glowing in a post-orgasmic languor that she’d let him give to her. Even so, a surge of satisfaction shuddered through him when she shook her head.
He squeezed her butt cheek roughly. “I am crazy, solnishko. Crazy for you.”
He watched her brow furrow, as if the reality of her position had seeped back into her consciousness. “What’s going to happen to Jake, Yuri?”
His mouth tightened as he lifted her back to sitting. “Hopefully, Jake will produce the money he owes Don Diego.”
“It was stolen. He told me the drugs were stolen and that’s why he doesn’t have it.”
Yuri had already figured it was something like that. Guys with half a brain don’t stiff the don unless they really can’t help it. “He needs to make contact with us. Give us an update on how he plans to repay the money. If he doesn’t, bad things are supposed to happen to you.”
She moistened her dry lips with her tongue and he scrambled up to find her some water, cursing himself for not taking better care of her basic needs. “But you’re not going to let them.” She said it like a statement, not a question.
Her seeming faith made his chest fill with a foreign feeling—pride. He held a bottle of water to her lips and waited while she sipped. “That’s right.”
She searched his face, as if trying to determine whether to believe him. He did his best to give her his most solemn, trustworthy expression.
“How does a Russian end up with the Italian mob?”
He shrugged. “La Famiglia is no different than Russian mafiya.”
“So, you used to be in the Russian mafiya?”
He blinked, not wanting to offer her any piece of his jagged past. “Da.”
“In Russia?”
“Da.” He wound a loop of duct tape around her bound wrists and secured her to the headboard. “Don’t move.”
“That’s really funny, asshole.”
He gave her ass a slap—no, less a slap than a tap—symbolic rather than pain-inducing. “Watch your mouth.” He headed toward the suite for some food.
“Or what?” she called after him.
He stopped and looked back at her, forcing back the smile that had automatically sprung to his lips when he’d realized she was flirting again. “I will peel those cheeks apart and fuck your ass.”
Her squirm made the threat worth it. She squeezed her ass cheeks and thrashed her legs on the bed, which made his cock lean heavily against his zipper, eager for another round. He watched her long enough to produce a lovely blush, then withdrew to the living room for the food he’d ordered.
Provide for. Protect. Claim.
She called forth all his basic caveman desires and right now, he needed to feed his beautiful female.
Yuri carried a tray of food into the room and set it on the bed beside her. She’d been trying to work her skirt down with her elbows, since her hands were useless. He scowled at her actions and yanked the skirt back up to her waist.
“Leave it. I like to look at that beautiful pussy.” He shoved her thighs apart and just stared down. “That, I could look at all night.” He squeezed his bulging erection through his pants. “But I’d never be able to leave you alone. I’d fuck you for hours and my friends would catch on.”
“Catch on to what?” Her voice sounded hoarse with the anticipation of what she already knew he’d say.
“I’m out of my head over you.”
He palmed both her thighs and pushed her knees up toward her shoulders. “I can go slow, too.” He lowered his head and planted a kiss at the apex of her sex, then flicked his tongue out and licked her clit. “In case you were wondering.”
She had wondered, actually. The fast, hard sex had rocked her world, but probably only because it was her first time that way. It wasn’t something she’d want on a regular basis. At least, she didn’t think so. So she’d wondered if that was his only speed.
Her face grew warm as heat swirled two feet south. Her nipples stood up in hard points against her bra.
He dropped kisses along the inside of one thigh, then used his teeth.
She jerked in surprise, but he held her splayed open.
“How did you get this beautiful body? What do you do—dance?”
She smiled. She liked her body but it wasn’t really what others considered the feminine ideal. She had no boobs and narrow hips. Too much muscle and not enough curve. “Yoga. I’m training to be a teacher.”
He sat up and stared at her as if she’d said the most fascinating thing on the planet. “You want to teach yoga?”
She nodded. “I love it.”
“As much as you love to make people dance?”
Something about that statement grabbed her right in her solar plexus. In a good way. She’d known Yuri had watched her work, but now she knew he’d really seen. That was exactly what she loved about playing DJ. It wasn’t about making others listen to the music she thought was good, although she did believe she had pretty good taste. It wasn’t about the art of mixing, but she was damn good at that, too. It was about the energy exchange between DJ and audience. It was about building an energy and maintaining it. Keeping people on their feet and moving for far longer than they wanted to. Giving them an experience, evoking a feeling.
“The same, I think.”
“You love them the same? Tell me what you love. I need to know, Lucya.” He said it like it was a dire necessity.
She shook her head. “It’s hard to explain.”
His apparent disappointment over that statement made her wish she had the words. He sat up and reached for a french fry, dipping it in ketchup before he held it up to her mouth.
Even though she wasn’t hungry, she accepted a bite. “I like to bring people to a certain state. To make them feel things they don’t ordinarily experience. Yoga can do that. So can my music.”
Yuri nodded, and dipped the fry into ketchup again. “You do that to me every minute.”
She laughed, only because if she took him seriously, she’d start getting an ego.
“I’m serious.” He lifted a hamburger to her mouth but she turned her face away. “You don’t eat meat?”
“I’m not hungry.”
“You need to eat. Just a little bit, moye solnishka.” H
e prepared another french fry. “You want something else? I order whatever you want. Ice cream? Fruit?”
She shook her head. “Not hungry. What part of that don’t you understand?”
He tsked and held the fry to her lips. “Sassy. I should punish you for that.”
She took a bite and chewed, thinking about how easily the threats rolled off his tongue, even when they were given with affection. I prefer the women I whip to agree first.
“Do you get off on violence?”
Yuri froze, hand in midair on the way to the ketchup. When he moved again, it was mechanical. He lifted the tray of food from the bed and carried it to the table, never looking at her. “Da. I’m a bad man, Lucya.”
“Maybe.” He probably had done a great many terrible things. But all she’d seen was someone who seemed to care about her well-being, her pleasure, even her feelings. “That wasn’t what I asked.”
He turned back, his expression haunted. His fingers clenched at his sides. “What are you asking me, Lucya?”
“You said you like the women you whip to agree first. Whom do you whip? Is that how you like to have sex?”
His shoulders relaxed slightly. “I don’t want to talk about other women. Now that I’ve had you, there’s nothing else. No one else.”
Though secretly pleased, she rolled her eyes. “You’re still not answering my question.”
He spread his hands. “I am… violent man. I have only known violence. My father—alcoholic. I ran away at thirteen, joined street gang in Kazan. They taught me three hundred and thirteen ways to kill a man.” He searched her face, as if for shock.
She carefully hid it.
“From there, I joined the bratva—what we call Russian mafiya. The brotherhood. With them, I came to Atlanta, worked the sex trade; prostitution, sex slavery, drugs. When they got shot down, I escaped prosecution and came here to Los Angeles, worked for Don Diego. Same story, different city.” He stabbed his fingers through his short blond hair. “So do I get off on violence? No, I don’t think so. I don’t need it. Or crave it. I am violence. So when I have sex, it’s rough. The women who choose me know what they will get. They see the tattoos, the scars. They aren’t looking for gentle.”
She thought of the way he’d just kissed up her inner thigh. It had been soft. Even the bite had been tender. The care he’d taken with her when he found her too tight for his cock had been gentle, too. And the way he’d held her after he whipped her.
“I’m not afraid of you, Yuri,” she murmured.
Everything in the Russian relaxed, relief slipping down his face as he walked swiftly toward her. He climbed right over her, pushing her onto her back on the bed, melding his lips to hers.
His tongue slid between her lips, and he pushed it in and out at the same tempo he used to press the bulge of his length against her bare sex. “Beautiful girl,” he choked when he released her lips. “Would you ever—could you—” He shook his head. “Never mind.”
“What?”
He had already retreated, lifting his weight from her and pulling her back up to sit.
“Nothing. I’m sorry. I don’t want to hurt you.”
She sensed he meant hurt emotionally, not physically, but still didn’t understand. Had he been about to ask if she would see him again when this was all over? If she’d be his girl?
The idea was so ludicrous, it was laughable, and yet the thought of not seeing him again… stung. But what? They’d go out on a date after this was all over? He’d pick her up in his Mercedes and take her to the movies? Afterward maybe they’d go to a hotel where he could duct tape her hands together and fuck her mouth like a sex doll?
Okay, that was hot.
Yeah, she liked it Yuri-style, whatever the hell that was. But no. They had no future.
Yuri walked away from her, picking up her phone and checking it.
“Has he called or texted?”
“No.”
Where in the hell was Jake? Had he seen her texts or listened to messages? Surely he wouldn’t just leave her here if he knew… would he?
Yuri’s lips flattened to a grim line as if he knew what she was thinking.
“I’m sure he’ll call as soon as he gets the messages,” she said, trying to project a confidence she didn’t feel.
From the blank look on Yuri’s normally impassioned face, she knew he had his doubts.
Want to read on? The Russian is just 99 cents on Amazon (or free with Kindle Unlimited). Grab it here.
Acknowledgments
A huge thank you to Sue Lyndon, for inviting me to participate in the USA Today Bestselling anthology Royally Mine, where this story first appeared. Smooches, also to all my co-authors in that set—they were such a pleasure to work with.
Thank you to all the wonderful members of Renee’s Romper Room for your support and love. Thanks to all my ARC readers and to L. Woods PR and the bloggers who support my releases. You are all amazing!
A Note from the Author
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About Renee Rose
USA TODAY BESTSELLING AUTHOR RENEE ROSE is a naughty wordsmith who writes kinky romance novels. Named Eroticon USA’s Next Top Erotic Author in 2013, she has also won Spunky and Sassy’s Favorite Sci-Fi and Anthology Author, The Romance Reviews Best Historical Romance, and Spanking Romance Reviews’ Best Historical, Best Erotic, Best Ageplay and favorite author. She’s hit #1 on Amazon in the Erotic Paranormal, Western and Sci-fi categories. She also pens BDSM stories under the name Darling Adams.
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Other Titles by Renee Rose
Contemporary
Her Royal Master
The Russian
Black Light: Valentine Roulette
Theirs to Protect
Scoring with Santa
Owned by the Marine
Theirs to Punish
Punishing Portia
The Professor’s Girl
Safe in his Arms
Saved
The Elusive “O”
Paranormal
Bad Boy Alphas Series
Alpha’s Challenge
Alpha’s Prize
Alpha’s Danger
Alpha’s Temptation
Love in the Elevator (Bonus story to Alpha’s Temptation)
Alpha Doms Series
The Alpha’s Hunger
The Alpha’s Promise
The Alpha’s Punishment
Other Paranormals
His Captive Mortal
Deathless Love
Deathless Discipline
The Winter Storm: An Ever After Chronicle
Sci-Fi
Zandian Masters Series
His Human Slave
His Human Prisoner
Training His Human
His Human Rebel
His Human Vessel
His Mate and Master
Zandian Pet
Their Zandian Mate
The Hand of Vengeance
Her Alien Masters
Dark Mafia Romance
The Russian
The Don’s Daughter
Mob Mistress
The Bossman
Regency
The Darlington Incident
Humbled
The Reddington Scandal
The Westerfield Affair
Pleasing the Colonel
Western
His Little Lapis
The Devil of Whiskey Row
The Outlaw’s Bride
Medieval
Mercenary
Medieval Discipline
Lords and Ladies
The Knight’s Prisoner
Be
trothed
Held for Ransom
The Knight’s Seduction
The Conquered Brides (5 book box set)
Renaissance
Renaissance Discipline
Ageplay
Stepbrother’s Rules
Her Hollywood Daddy
His Little Lapis
Black Light: Valentine’s Roulette (Broken)
BDSM under the name Darling Adams
Medical Play
Yes, Doctor
Master/Slave
Punishing Portia