by Box Set
I’m taking a big chance here. If I’m wrong, she’ll bolt, and I’ll never get a second chance.
Her mouth opens then closes three times before she growls and turns back to the windows. “You are fucking impossible.”
I smile. She didn’t run.
“You are as stubborn as a fucking mule,” I accuse.
“I want to forget you. I want to stop remembering all of it.” Her voice softens, and her hand raises to her face.
She’s crying.
“I’m sorry,” I say, moving to stand just out of reach of her. If I get closer, I’ll grab her and hold her and demand she never leave. This has to be her choice. She never had one with me before, but now she will. Even if she chooses to leave.
“I’m sorry for all of it - except for the part where you came into my life.” I clear my throat. I’m not one for such talk, but it’s the truth.
“My father’s gone. His trafficking business dismantled along with him and most of his men.” I want to assure her the men who hurt her died painfully, but I don’t want her memory to trail down that lane.
“You’re in charge now?”
“I am. You won’t like what I do to earn my money. I’m not a good man. But there will be no more slaves bought or sold in my family name.” The women my father kept in his clutches have all been given their freedom and have been set up with a life they will find some happiness in. “The estate in London has been sold. I won’t be going back there again.”
She tenses but doesn’t speak.
I can’t let her keep holding herself and thinking she’s alone in this. I move forward, standing behind her and wrapping my arms around her body.
“You just left me. Sent me away like I was nothing,” she whispers, twisting around in my arms and pressing her cheek to my chest. “You didn’t want me, and I had made myself believe that in your own way - you did. I was wrong.”
“No, you weren’t wrong,” I say, kissing the top of her head. “I was a fucking idiot. I needed to clean my house and I couldn’t do that with you in it. I didn’t want you to see me like that. I know I don’t deserve you, I deserve nothing but the fiery flames of hell I’ll surely meet when I die, but I can’t help but want you.”
“You kept tabs on me this whole time?” She pulls back to look up at me. Her eyes are red, the little mascara she wore has been smudged off. I run my thumb over her cheek to catch a tear.
“I wouldn’t just let you go off into the world unprotected, and if you decide you don’t want me, you’ll always have my protection.”
“And if I don’t want that either?” She’s pushing it, and I can see it in her eyes that she knows it.
“Well.” I sigh. “You don't have a say in that.”
“So, you’ll always be hovering? And if I marry? Have kids?” She shoves away from me, but I catch her arm, holding her near me.
“It would kill me, but I would still make sure you were safe, all of them were safe,” I vow.
“I don’t know this Kristoff.” She waves a hand at me. “This Kristoff is permissive, he’s quiet. Undemanding.”
“You’d rather have me force you?” I can’t - won’t do that again.
“No. Not that.” She shakes her head. “You haven’t even kissed me yet,” she blurts out.
I was waiting for the right moment, for her to want it as much as me, but I see now what she needs. She needs my power, my strength. Not just armed guards, but me. She needs me.
I yank her arm until back pressed against my chest again. Framing her face with both hands, I tilt her head back and crush her mouth with mine. My tongue doesn’t beg entrance, but rather invades her and she tangles with me with as much force as always. She’s not giving me an inch, she’s making me take from her. And it’s a sweet surrender when she finally places her hands on my chest and moans.
“This dress is better than that thing you wore last night, but I want it off,” I say against her lips. My cock is bursting to get out of my pants, but I am determined to go slow with her. I won’t hurt her a second time.
“What about dinner?” she asks, stepping out of my embrace.
“Fuck dinner,” I say and step toward her, hunting my prey, and enjoying the chase she gives me when she moves away again. “The bedroom is that way.” I point at the door she needs to go through to get to my bed. “But once you’re in there, you lose your say. And you’ll stay with me. No more department store photography, no more puff writing. You’ll be mine.”
She nods and keeps walking backward. I’m not running at her, but my heart is pounding like I’ve just sprinted up the stairs.
“Why is your dress still on?” I ask with a determined step. “Are you back to being a naughty girl?”
20
He’s back. Kristoff is back, and the fire in his eyes and the deep tenor of his voice has sent shivers through my body. He stalks me to the bedroom, and I manage to get the dress off just as he pounces on me.
He lifts me into the air and tosses me on his bed. I bounce and laugh at the animalistic way he’s acting, but I love it. I have craved it, and him for six long months.
“Panties?” he asks and grabs the elastic. “Never again,” he announces and tears them off me. Good thing I left my bra at home, or he’d be ruining a very expensive panty set.
His shirt flies across the room, and he covers my body with his own. His hands are in my hair, tugging and holding me while his mouth claims mine again. I can barely breathe, but it doesn’t stop me from matching him with my own aggression.
I reach down between us and pull at his belt.
He chuckles into my kiss. “Horny girl.” He’s called me a horny girl in Russian and I can’t stop the smile from crossing my lips. I am that. Exactly that.
Getting to his knees on the bed, he pulls the belt open and works his zipper down before shoving his jeans off. I reach for him, wrapping my hand around the silky-smooth texture of his shaft.
“Oh, fuck.” He groans and pulls my hand away. “You can’t do that, love. I haven’t had a woman since you left. If you do that, we won’t get far.”
His hands are everywhere, touching and pinching and rubbing me while his mouth moves from my lips to my cheek to my nipples. I arch my back when he licks my nipple into a beaded bud. Nothing has felt so good as his hands on me.
When his fingers find their way to my pussy, he pauses and looks up at me.
“Do you have any pain?” he asks with worry weighing down his words.
“No pain,” I assure him. “I’m not breakable,” I promise him and lift my hips to get his fingers to move.
He growls his intent before pushing two fingers inside of me. I hiss at the sudden full feeling and he tenses.
“Don’t you fucking stop.” I grab his shoulder and push him.
“Did you push me?” he asks with a devilish grin.
“No. I would never.” I smile at him. I would if it meant he’d start moving his fingers, but I know what he’s looking for. He’s wanting my obedience, my submission. And I want to give it to him because it’s his dominance that makes a safe place for me to hide. To be embraced and loved.
He spreads my legs and positions himself between them, stroking his cock over me and watching to be sure I’m seeing him. I can’t tear my eyes away from his hand. I want him inside me. Not just my cunt, my entire soul.
“Please,” I say and reach for him again, but he slaps my hand away.
“If you can’t be good, you can’t have any,” he says and runs the head of his cock through my folds, gathering up all of my juices.
“Okay, okay,” I say and put my hands at my sides.
He chuckles. “I may have found a new way to punish you.” Before I can contest his comment, he thrusts into me in one quick push. I cry out, and he stills but I hug him.
“No. That’s good. It’s so fucking good.” I flatten my feet on the bed and arch my hips at him.
He holds nothing back now, he kisses me while he plows his thick length into me
over and over again. I barely breathe or think. My heart hammers, but it’s so loud in the room with his body slamming into mine, I can only feel it.
“Fuck. Oh fuck,” he groans, his hands roaming over my breasts, then down between our bodies. “Come for me, Magdalena. Come hard, come for me,” he chants and rubs my clit in a circle.
The pressure is too much, and I whine, but with one more thrust, one more flick of his finger it all explodes into a burst of white light and waves of pleasure that carry me away. I’m screaming out with each new thrust, driving my reward further and further until he plows forward once more and growls his own release into me.
My breath is shallow, my heart won’t slow, and tears roll freely down my cheeks.
“Why?” he asks, out of breath himself, as he wipes the tears away.
“I thought you’d never come for me,” I say and bury my head into his neck.
His cock slips out of me, making a mess across my thigh and his quilt, but he doesn’t seem to care. He rolls to my side and pulls me to his chest.
“I’ll always come for you.” He hugs me tightly to him. “Always.”
Silence stretches out between us, and I rest my chin on his chest. “You sure you can handle me like this? When I’m free to come and go as I please?”
“What makes you think you’re free?” he asks and tweaks my nose.
“Because you aren’t the monster you think you are.”
“Oh, Magdalena, don’t convince yourself otherwise. It would be dangerous to do so.” I know he’s telling the truth. The things he does for his business, for his money, they aren’t good.
“No, you’re not the monster with me. Me, you love.” I press a kiss to his bare chest and rest my cheek against it, enjoying the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.
“You, I love,” he agrees, and he tugs at my hair. “And you love me, too.”
“Don’t get a big head about it,” I warn him, and he retaliates my snark with a quick smack to my ass.
“You still can be spanked and punished at my will. That doesn’t change, Magdalena. You’ll obey me, and you’ll be a good girl, or you’ll find I’m not as kind of a man you think me.”
I move up to my elbows. “I would never insult you by thinking you’re kind. But you won’t hurt me, not really, not like before – like—” I take a deep breath. “You won’t ever hurt me.”
“No. I won’t. And I will kill anyone who does.”
I know he’s not just saying these things. He doesn’t threaten, he only warns before acting.
“Now is a good time for you to listen,” he says, tightening his hold on me. “You will start to see the therapist Dr. Morrow went to the trouble to find for you, and you will claim the inheritance from your sister and trust next month when your birthday comes.”
I want to argue, but his finger presses against my lips.
“If you don’t want Danuta’s money, donate it. Give it away, but don’t let it just rot like she did.”
He makes sense. I can put that money to good use, to help those that her actions may have hurt.
“Okay,” I agree. “But I don’t need the therapist,” I press while he’s being so giving.
“That’s not open for discussion.” He shakes his head and rolls me to my back. “I can always bind you to a chair and bring the doctor home for your appointments. But I think it would be a little counterproductive.” He grins. He knows he’s winning.
He always wins.
And now, with his arms wrapped around me, my life joining with his, I win, too.
THE END
ABOUT MEASHA STONE
www.meashastone.com
USA Today Bestselling Author Measha Stone is a lover of all things erotic and fun who writes kinky romantic suspense and dark romance novels. She won the 2018 Golden Flogger award in two categories, Best Advanced BDSM and Best Anthology. She's hit #1 on Amazon in multiple categories in the U.S. and the U.K. When she's not typing away on her computer, she can be found nestled up with a cup of tea and her kindle.
Thanks for reading. I hope you’ve enjoyed KRISTOFF. If you could leave an honest review on Amazon and/or Goodreads, I’ll be forever grateful.
Keep turning the pages to read the rest of BLAIRE’S WORLD and the bonus extra: B L A I R E.
EVELINA
by
ALLY VANCE
International Bestselling Author
Light can be found in the Darkness, just as Darkness can be found in the Light. Sometimes it's not easy to distinguish between the two.
Ally Vance.
PROLOGUE
The phone rings, and I impatiently place the glass of wine I’m holding down on the desk before answering. “This had better be of deadly importance for you to have interrupted my evening.”
“Ma’am, Maksim is dead, and his body was removed before we could recover it.” The male voice comes through clearly, and I can hear it quiver with fear at having to tell me this.
My thoughts race as I quickly assess the situation, and the measures necessary to clean up this fucking mess.
“Clean up, destroy everything and all ties that could ever be linked back to us,” I order, picking up the glass of wine again and swirling it once before taking a sip.
“What about the girls?” he asks, his voice hesitant.
“Don’t make me repeat myself, Luka. I said destroy everything.” I say it slowly with my annoyance evident in my tone.
“Yes, Ma’am,” Luka responds, and I hang up on him, slamming the phone onto my desk.
I down the rest of the contents of my wine before standing and moving over to the window. I look at my reflection in the dark glass and see my long hair shimmering brightly like a halo, framing my face in the light of the room. Cursing, I turn and hurl my wineglass at the wall and watch the crystal shatter into a million sparkling fragments before I stride back over to my desk, press a button, and wait, tapping my foot impatiently. A tentative knock at the door sounds moments later.
“Enter.”
The door opens slowly, and the maid enters the room, “You called for me, Ma'am?”
“Yes, Zia. Clean that up and inform everyone that I’m not to be disturbed for the rest of the evening,” I say sharply, pointing to the mess of crystal on the floor. Then storming out of the room, I leave her to attend to it.
My heels click loudly as I walk down the hallway, anger flowing steadily through me at the irresponsibility of others, and the loss of a useful business associate.
Fucking Maksim, he was always so careless. I’d wondered in the past why I kept him around; He was a loose cannon and more trouble than he was worth in some cases, but having him on board gave me more power and another player to manipulate in the business.
1
EVELINA
I’m running, and my heart is pounding wildly in my ears as I make my escape from the nightmare I’ve been living in for so long. When the man came down and started shooting the girls with his gun, I crawled as far into the corner of my cell as I could. But it didn’t stop him from dragging me out by my ankle, pointing the gun at me, and ordering me to stand. I wasn’t afraid of him though. Not like when I was first taken and didn’t know what was going to happen to me. They kept me in the dark, mocking me when I cried and begged to be set free. I didn’t understand anything until Maksim came for me one night and showed me what fear and pain really were.
When I didn’t stand immediately, the man pulled me to my feet and aimed the gun at my head. Kicking out, I landed a lucky shot with my bare foot between his legs, and as he collapsed to the floor with a groan, I fled from the cold darkness of the basement. Now I’m out in the grounds of the house, I’m struck by how cold it is, and the feeling of fresh air on my bare skin comes as a shock. On the way out, I didn’t stop to grab anything to cover myself. I’d be dead if I had. All I can do now is keep running and try to get as far away from here as I can, or failing that, find somewhere to hide until morning.
I’m tearing through the darkness
using the faint illumination from the faraway street lamps, and the sliver of moonlight to guide my way. I can just about see the woodland on the border of the property, so I aim for it, darting between the trees. My feet hurt. I can feel rocks and twigs digging into my soles, but I can’t stop. I mustn't stop. If I do, then I might as well have let the man shoot me back there in that hell my master, Maksim, called his home.
I hear a shot behind me and duck with a squeal of terror, cursing myself mentally for basically shouting out my location. I clap a hand over my mouth and keep moving, farther and farther into the trees until I reach an impenetrable fence and fall back. No, no, no, this can’t be happening… I can see the road on the other side and freedom is close enough to taste, but I’m being held back by an endless wall of metal, stretching out before me. Slowly inching away from it, I back into the trees until I spot a large bush, which I crawl under, and hugging my knees to my chest for warmth, I curl into the fetal position. I quiver in my hiding spot: fear, adrenaline, and cold wracking my small frame. I hope to God he doesn’t find me. I don’t want to die.
I hear the sound of twigs snapping and leaves crunching as someone moves nearby. I tense, biting my lip to keep a small whimper from escaping. Then holding my breath, I close my eyes, and wait for the searcher to find me, drag me out, and put an end to my life. A small tear escapes, trickling slowly down my face and into my hair.
I’m not sure how long I lie there, frozen in place by the fear of my impending death. The sounds of the woodland being disturbed by a human presence gradually grow fainter until they fade away completely. Not daring to move from this spot, I stay where I am and fall into an uneasy, restless sleep. I wake to light peeking through the leaves and yawn, stretching uncomfortably. I’m disconcerted by the shock of feeling sunlight on my face for the first time in far too long. I’d almost forgotten where I was, but the small stones and twigs digging into my bare skin are a prickly reminder I’m no longer trapped inside that house.