The Volkov Brothers Series: The Complete Series

by Leslie North

  “Which means tracking down my father.”

  “Da.”

  With her emotions in turmoil from the booze, Lucy felt the unexpected sting of tears welling in her eyes. “You must hate me, right? For the things my father’s done? No wonder you don’t want to sleep with me.”

  Ben was at her side in an instant, his fingers gently tipping her chin upward, forcing her to meet his gaze. “No, milen'kiy, hate is the polar opposite of what I’m feeling for you now. And I don’t blame you for the sins of your father, any more than I equate myself with the sins of mine.” He inched closer, his gaze locked on her mouth. “And as far as wanting to sleep with you, I’d love nothing more than to tear off your clothes and take you right here. Does that answer your question?”

  Her breath ragged with want, Lucy acted on pure impulse. She jumped up, wrapping her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist, locking them together, then kissing him hard and deep. At first, Ben seemed immobilized by shock then his hands gripped her hips tight, angling her against his cock so that he rubbed her just right. They rocked together, jolts of bright passion searing away any thoughts in Lucy’s mind except this man, this moment, this incredible chemistry between them.

  With a muffled curse against her lips, Ben held her tight as he walked them down the hall and into his bedroom. They tumbled together onto the bed, a tangle of limbs and kisses and moans.

  Ben tore his mouth from hers and quickly tugged off her hoodie and T-shirt, leaving her in just her lacy bra from the waist up. He straddled her waist with his knees, effectively trapping her beneath him, as he pinned her wrists to the bed. He leaned over her, his amber eyes sparkling in the dim light from the streetlights outside. Cursing softly, Ben ducked his head, emotions warring on his handsome face, the muscles in his arms twitching from the strain of holding himself back. “We should not be doing this. I should stop this now. You should stop me now. This is…insane. You make me insane with need for you.”

  She blinked up at him, grinning slow. “Did you just decide to fuck me to control me?”

  “I have thought of little else each time I looked at you since we met. Thoughts of fucking you, as you so crudely put it, have haunted me every second you’ve been around.”

  Lucy laughed, unhooking her bra and tossing it over the side of the mattress. Whether it was the alcohol or the man, she’d never felt freer in her life. Emboldened, she ran her hands slowly up his thighs, stopping just short of touching his bulging cock through his jeans, then slid her fingers up either side of his crotch to his waistband. His abs trembled beneath her touch, a testament to how much he wanted her too, how tightly reined his libido was.

  “Shit.” The guttural curse escaped him just before he tugged off his own shirt. “You are going to drive me crazy.”

  “Good.” She reveled in the feel of his hot skin beneath her palms, toying with his hard nipples until she elicited a soft groan of pleasure from him. “You aren’t the only one who’s been imagining this.”

  By the time she reached his waistband again and flicked open the button on his jeans, his breath was nearly panting, hers too. Slowly, she lowered the zip to release his hard cock. No underwear. Lucy wasn’t sure if that was a mafia thing or a Russian thing or a Ben thing. All she did know was that she was eternally grateful for his choice tonight. She took him in hand, slowly stroking his engorged flesh as he loomed over her, his eyes half-lidded, his expression pure passion.

  His words lapsed into Russian and he bent to nuzzle her neck while she palmed him. Strange endearments heated her skin as he whispered them into her hair, her ear, against her cheek.

  “I wanted to stay in control, but you shatter me, milen'kiy.”

  “What does that mean?” Lucy asked, as breathless as he was. “Milen'kiy?”

  “Sweetheart,” Ben said, removing her hand from him then rolling them over so she was stretched out atop him as he made quick work of her jeans and panties. “I want to taste you and tease you.”

  Her jeans had no more hit the floor than she was on her back again, Ben pressing her down into the mattress as he kissed his way down her naked body, stopping to pay homage to her breasts before trailing his tongue down her middle, making a beeline for the throbbing wetness between her legs. He parted her thighs, placing his large hands on either leg to position her as he wanted, then he bent to lick her. Lucy cried out at this first touch, arching into him, her fingers tangling in his hair as he took her sensitive clit between his lips and sucked gently.

  Slowly, he worked first one, then two, fingers into her slick channel, easing her open for him, driving her need for him higher, higher… until it all became too much and she exploded into a million shards of sensation and desire. He continued to lick and suckle her through her intense orgasm, drawing out every last bit of tension from her body until she lay slack and sated beneath him. Then he kissed his way back up her body to her mouth, kissing her deeply before pulling away.

  Lucy protested, afraid he would leave her, but he only tugged off his jeans then fumbled in the nightstand drawer for a tiny foil packet. He tore the condom open with his teeth then slicked it on before climbing back into bed and over her once more.

  “I need you so badly, milen'kiy.”

  “Good,” she said, reaching between them to take his cock in hand again, guiding him to her wet entrance. “I need you inside me. Now!”

  With a growl, Ben drove hilt-deep into her then held still, his forehead resting against hers as her body adjusted to the size and width of him. Her Russian was not a small man by any standard and she loved every long inch of him throbbing inside her. Still, though, she sensed he was holding back, holding himself in check, and she wanted him to let go, just for tonight, just with her.

  “Yes! Give it to me,” she said, leaning up to nip his shoulder as she dug her heels into the tight muscles of his ass. “Fuck me.”

  Teeth gritted, Ben narrowed his heated gaze on her. “Such a filthy mouth on you, milen'kiy.”

  She grinned, feeling him pull out almost to his tip then slam back inside her hard, just how she liked it. “Yes. And you love it, don’t you?”

  He snarled and pounded into her again. “God, help me. Yes! Your filthy mouth makes me want to take you so hard and so long, Lucy. Keep going, Lucy.”

  “Of course.” She laughed, writhing against him as he thrust faster, deeper into her, digging her nails into his upper back. “Give me every inch of that cock of yours. Make me come.”

  “Oh, yeah.” He cupped her breasts gently, biting her neck as he toyed with her straining nipples. She groaned, clenching around him as another climax built within her. “Tell me how you feel, milen'kiy. Tell me how I make you feel.”

  “You… you…” Lucy struggled to catch her breath, reaching over her head to grip the wrought iron bars of his headboard to brace herself. “God! You make me feel so good, like I’m going to burn up with need, like every inch of me is on fire for you. I feel so full and so wet and so wanton with your body pounding into mine. I… oh… I-I’m going to… Oh!”

  “Yes!” Ben hissed his strokes becoming stronger, more urgent. “Come for me, Lucy. Open your eyes and look at me when you come for me!”

  She did as he commanded, eyes wide as a second orgasm hit her hard, driving her to even higher heights than the first. Gazes locked, Ben thrust into her once, twice, before throwing his head back and growling loud as he came inside her.

  Together, they rode out their pulsing pleasure until, at last, Ben collapsed atop her on the bed, his weight warm and comforting. He rested his face in the crook of her neck, his breath hot against her skin for several moments until he rolled away to lay on his back beside her, silent.

  “Wow,” Lucy said at last, struggling to keep her eyes open. “That was…wow!”

  Ben exhaled slowly then pushed up into a sitting position. “That was a mistake.”

  Hurt stabbed deep into her chest. She’d had one-nighters before, but at least those guys had waited until the aft
erglow wore off before bailing. Not to mention the fact she’d somehow thought Ben was different. Yes, they’d only known each other two days and yes, this had obviously been a spur of the moment, possibly vodka-induced, bit of insanity, but he’d seemed so honorable, so loyal and true, that she’d expected…more from him.

  Pavlov’s nails skittered against the hardwood floor as he approached the bedroom door cautiously from the hallway. His sad whimpers perfectly reflected the stinging sadness inside Lucy’s heart. While Ben used the restroom then tugged on his jeans and shirt, without another word to her, Lucy got up and gathered her scattered clothes from the floor, holding them in front of her as she backed toward the door. “I should, um, go take care of the dog.”

  “Da.” Ben stood, his back to her as he ran a hand through his mussed dark hair. “You should go back to your room with Pavlov. I need to think.”

  She swallowed hard against the lump in her throat, determined not to cry. She was a big girl, had gone into this knowing exactly what it was. Crying now would be stupid. Pavlov’s soft fur brushed the back of her naked legs as she shuffled into the hallway. “I’ll see you in the morning, I guess.”

  Ben didn’t answer, just sank down on the edge of his bed in the dark, looking at her through the shadows, his amber eyes haunted.

  Lucy rushed back to the guest room and shut the door then leaned against it, the wood hard and cold as she slid to the floor, crying. Tonight had been a mistake. She could blame it on the vodka, but deep down she knew the truth. She’d wanted Ben Volkov and she’d had him.

  Now she’d have to deal with the consequences.

  Never in a million years had she wanted to get involved with a man with a shady past, not after the heartache she’d seen her mother go through. But now?

  Now she’d gone and done exactly what she’d said she never do. It had turned into a disaster for her mother and now, if Ben’s current cold-shoulder reaction was any indication, this night was heading down the same road for her.

  Tears burned, running down her cheeks as Pavlov snuggled in beside her on the floor.

  Now she’d gone and fallen hard for the last man on earth she should ever have wanted.

  Ben Volkov—control freak, Bratva enforcer, her knight in tarnished armor.

  7

  Ben

  Ben got zero sleep that night, torn between rushing to Lucy’s door to apologize for his boorish behavior and berating himself for breaking his own cardinal rule. Never fuck the targets.

  Jesus, if his Bratva trainers could see him now, they’d kick his ass from here to Moscow. Nik too. Not that he was planning on telling his older brother about this huge error in judgment any time soon.

  After hours of tossing and turning, he got up before dawn and showered before pulling on fresh jeans and a clean T-shirt. Must have been the vodka. That was the only reason Ben could think of for throwing all his carefully laid plans out the window. He sighed and sat in the folding chair along the wall to put on his black motorcycle boots.

  Shit. Just shit.

  As he jammed his feet into his boots, he knew the lie for what it was. Alcohol had little to do with him taking Lucy to bed last night. If he was honest, he’d wanted her since the first moment he’d seen her—bravely facing down those men who were twice her size all to save that mutt of hers. Ben shook his head. There was something about Lucy and her brilliant smile and beautiful green eyes that spoke to him, spoke to the tiny part of him deep inside that longed to break free, to live and laugh and love without caring about the rules.

  And that’s exactly why this could never continue between them.

  The kind of freedom Lucy made him want? That kind of rebellion wasn’t allowed in the Bratva.

  Rebellion got good men killed.

  Just look at fucking Mishin.

  Exhaling slowly, Ben pushed to his feet and headed out of his bedroom and down the hall to the kitchen to start a pot of coffee. Once that was brewing, he grabbed the mail he’d pocketed the day before from Mishin’s place and sat at the breakfast bar to go through it. The digital clock above his stove read five-thirty. Based on how late Lucy had slept in the day before, he hoped to have a little time to get his day in order before she got up. She messed with his control, which was another reason they needed to keep their distance from each other. Ben lived by his hard-won control. Nik had warned him too, warned him not to make plans, warned him life did not always adhere to his strict rules. God, he was an idiot. To have her so easily make him want to throw caution to the wind was unacceptable, no matter how tantalizing the prospect might be.

  He glanced at her closed bedroom door down the hall, then scrubbed his hand over his face before squinting at the first envelope in his hand. There was a date scribbled on it and a logo in the upper left-hand corner—Deco Treasures Art Gallery. It was possible Mishin was trying to hide his stolen two million dollars by funneling it into fine art. Wouldn’t be the first time someone had tried that scheme and it would make the funds much easier to transport.

  Ben had never heard of the gallery, but maybe Nik had. He fired off a quick text to his brother then moved quickly through the rest of the mail. Nothing but bills and junk solicitations. The coffee maker beeped and he poured himself a generous cup, then took a seat in his living room to watch the sun rise over the tops of the high rises in the distance while he waited for Nik’s response.

  He didn’t have to wait long.

  His phone buzzed just as the first streaks of pink and yellow crested the top of the Hancock building. Nik’s answer was brief.

  West Fulton Street. Old Speakeasy Location. Grand Opening Tonight. Costume Party. 20s Attire. Check Website for deets. Never text me this early again.

  Ben snorted. And plugged his phone into its charger in the kitchen then glanced over as Lucy’s door creaked open. Pavlov ran out and made a beeline for Ben in the kitchen while Lucy stumbled her way down the hall toward his bathroom, looking mussed and sleepy and entirely too adorable.

  He cleared his throat then crouched to scratch the dog’s head. “You need to go outside and go potty, boy? Yeah?”

  Pavlov panted and twirled around in circles.

  “Right.” Ben grabbed his leash and clipped it on then lead the enormous pooch toward the door, making sure he had his keys and wallet just in case. He considered letting Lucy know where he was going, but she’d already shut the bathroom door, so he hurried outside with the dog, figuring he’d be back before she realized he was gone anyway. “Come on, boy. Let’s go do your business.”

  By the time he returned with Pavlov, Lucy was dressed and in the kitchen, fixing herself a cup of coffee. He did his best not to be hurt by the fact she didn’t look up as he walked back into the loft. After all, this was what he’d wanted, right? Separation, distance, no dwelling on the incredible sex they’d shared the night before.

  After unhooking the dog’s leash from his collar, Ben hung it on a hook by his door then strode over to get his phone from the charge on the counter. He couldn’t help glancing up at Lucy, admiring the snug fit of her jeans and the way that gray hoodie of hers hugged her curves in all the right places. He also couldn’t help noticing that she had on the same clothes as the day before. They’d not had a chance to make it back over to her apartment yet, but he’d need to add that to his to-do list for the day. Either that, or a shopping spree to get her some new things to tide her over until she got her stuff. Then again that might send the wrong message, might make her think he was considering making their arrangement into a relationship.

  “Good morning,” he said, squeezing past her to refill his own cup from the coffee pot.

  She mumbled something which sounded halfway between good morning and go fuck yourself. Ben raised a brow at her retreating back as she shuffled in her stocking feet to the living room to plop down on his sofa. Perhaps she wasn’t a morning person. Nik wasn’t either.

  Then again, he supposed he deserved that after the awkward way he’d ended things last night. He cringed t
hen gulped his hot coffee, relishing the burn in his throat as his just punishment for acting like such a dick.

  Still, he didn’t want to bring up last night for fear of having “the talk.” That was not what he wanted first thing this morning, nor would it fit into his packed schedule for the day. He took his mug and walked into the living room. Pavlov had taken up residence beside Lucy on the sofa, stretching his long body over the other two cushions and leaving Ben no choice but to lean against the windowsill since there were no other seats in the room. He hadn’t gotten that far in his decorating yet.

  “You hungry?” he asked, watching her over the rim of his cup.

  Lucy shrugged, still not looking at him.

  “Is that a yes? If so, we can stop on our way to the costume shop this morning.”

  Her gaze darted to him at last, her green eyes wary. “Costume shop?”

  “Yes. It seems your father visited an art gallery recently. They’re having their grand opening tonight and because it’s located in an old warehouse that used to hold speakeasies back in the 1920s, you have to be in costume to attend.” He sniffed and winced as the dog scratched his nails across the soft suede covering the sofa. “I have reason to believe your father might make an appearance at this gallery opening and we need to be there to catch him if he does. Therefore, we need costumes.”

  Lucy stroked the dog’s head, currently resting in her lap, and cooed to him softly.

  Ben couldn’t stop the rush of memories invading his mind—Lucy moaning softly as he’d licked and caressed and loved every inch of her the night before, the spicy flavor of her arousal on his tongue, the sexy slide of her fingernails against his scalp as he’d brought her to orgasm after orgasm. Heat rose from beneath the crewneck collar of his black T-shirt, prickling his skin and tightening his throat.