In perfect view of her long temple, he opened her wide, pulled back, and then felt her body began to vibrate. She clawed the sofa as she climaxed. The wetness of her body made for warmer more vivid sensations for him. He groaned as he watched, amazed at the contrast of their skin colors, the heat of her skin, the look of her.
Screaming his name as he picked her little body up, he pulled it into his rock hard erection. She was now not on the floor or the sofa but suspended in the air, trapped in his embrace. He held her close as he came. With his face against her back and his long arms cradling her, he caught his breath and moved her long hair out of his way.
When he was done, she sat in his lap, covered in sweat and drained. He picked her up off his penis sat her on the couch gently, exhibiting the last bit of strength that she had failed to deplete.
"Now you can go pack," he said, clearing his throat. His face was stone-like.
She looked across at him stunned and speechless.
* * *
"Lunch was great," Royal said, leaning into Dmitry as he bent to kiss her lips.
"Da? You liked? Good. Well have leftovers tonight for dinner," he rubbed through her hair and looked in her eyes. She looked flushed.
"Are you getting sick?"
"A cold maybe. I feel… hot," she lied. "Listen. I'm so behind at the shop until I need to stay later. I'll get one of the girls to bring me home tonight. If Anya could stay with you for the rest of the day that would be great."
"Of course. Just make sure that you don't end up at the shop tonight alone. If I need to, I'll leave here and stay with you until you finish."
"No," she said quickly. "The girls will stay with me. You go home and take Anya. I'll be there shortly."
"Okay," Dmitry felt Anya tugging at his leg. "Yes, baby, what is it?" He looked down at her.
"Can I help Javier wash the dishes?" Anya asked, interrupting her parents.
"No," Royal answered, rubbing Anya's head. "Stay out of the way and be a good girl."
Dmitry smiled. "See you tonight."
Royal left the restaurant quickly and headed towards the boutique in an eager stride.
While she had every intention of going back to Royal Flush, it was only to get the clothes that the stranger had purchased and hand-deliver them to him. There were things that had not been said, that needed to be said. He knew more than he led on, and she intended to find out what.
* * *
Dorian stood in the shower letting the hot water drench his tired muscles and relieve the tension in his back. That damned woman was still on his mind, even after many hours of planning to kill her husband. Her heart-shaped lips, her chocolate skin, her full breasts. They were features drawn from a comic book, so pronounced and beautiful. Three years of Dmitry's constant doting had done her well.
She looked like she did not have a care in the world until you looked into her dark eyes. They spoke volumes. They spoke of Ivan. He knew that it was Royal the moment he laid eyes on her. She looked like the woman in the photos only less innocent now, much less innocent. But he wanted to immediately reach out and kiss her. It was a strange reaction, and he was ashamed of it, but he could not deny his utter attraction to Dmitry's muse. She made him think of what it would be like to have his own family. After all, he was forty now. No wife. No children.
Dmitry was a lucky man. If he had Royal, even for just one night…
The door bell rang. He wiped the water from his face and turned off the shower. Wrapping a towel around his waist, he grabbed his gun and walked slowly to the door.
He looked out the peep hole to find Royal standing on the other side of the door. He stood back. Was this a trap? Or was it something else? He opened the door just enough to see her face.
"Your dress, sir," Royal said, holding up the dress bag. "And your jewelry for the soon-to-be Mrs. Oriachiav."
"Of course," Dorian said, looking behind her. "Are you alone?"
"Yes," she sighed. "Open the door. I know there's no one in there." Her voice was firm and low.
He paused then opened it, standing out of the way for her to pass. She walked in with the bags and looked around the suite.
Laying the dress across the nearest table, she turned around and looked at him. "I came to talk," she said, taking a seat. "But I'm sure that you already know that. It's the only reason you told me where to find you."
Dorian stood soaking wet with only a damp towel covering his large body. He wasn't nearly as tall as Dmitry, but he was a devastatingly handsome, milk-chocolate, muscular man with wavy hair, full lips, brilliantly bright brown eyes and chiseled features that made him appear to be more of a model than a mafia figure.
He clenched his towel tightly forbidding it to show the evident bulge between his large thighs. She was no longer a modest woman. She gawked at him outright, assessing all of his assets, making mental note all of his features. She drank him in without looking away.
"Goodness woman, where are you manners?" he asked finally.
"I don't know what you mean," she lied. "If you feel uncomfortable, you should probably go and get dressed." She crossed her legs and gave him a snooty look.
"How do I know that I trust you to sit there and not snoop until I return, huh?"
"Fine. Dress here," she crossed her arms. "I've only seen two men naked in my adult life. I'd be obliged to see one who wasn't biologically related to a Medlov."
"And I thought that you should be afraid of me," he said sarcastically.
"Well… "
He smirked. At least she had a since of humor. He dropped his towel and walked to the duffle bag only steps away from her to retrieve his underwear. Her eyes bulged out of her head as she watched his well-endowed manhood flop lazily across this thigh. There was clear satisfaction on her face.
In her mind, she could not help but think of Dmitry kissing that whore of a woman, Victoria. Suddenly, she felt vindicated.
"This is inappropriate," he said, slipping on his boxers. "You should be ashamed."
"I'm not," she said, stoned faced. "I enjoyed that. Spasiba. Now, on to my questions. Why are you here? Who are you? Where do you know the Medlov's from? What are your intentions? Where's your fucking fiancée?"
"Slow down," he raised his hand. "Please." Running his hand over his head, he grabbed his cargo pants and slipped them on. "Now that I'm at least presentable, would you care for anything to drink?"
"No. This isn't a social visit. I want to know what the hell you know about me."
"Nothing."
"Don't lie to me. Tell me the truth," she breathed heavily. "Or I'll call him. I'll tell him that I'm here and when he gets here, I'll still know who you are—right before he kills you. You might as well do it the easy way."
"I'm a business partner." He clenched his jaw and leaned over to her. "You need to be very, very careful about what threats you make."
"Oh, I know about threats. And unfortunately for you, they don't scare me anymore." She swallowed hard. "Now, what's your real name?"
"Dorian." He stood up.
"Why did you come to my shop?" she eyed his hairy six-pack.
"When I got here, I heard that Dmitry had another dress shop. It was too coincidental. So I came here to see for myself. I thought you were dead many years ago." He went to his bag and pulled out a t-shirt.
"I did die." Tears formed at the corners of her eyes. "Ivan killed me."
"I know." They made eye contact. "What Ivan did that day has haunted us all. At least, it has haunted me. I must confess to you that I had some idea of what he would do, but never did I think that he would take it to that extent. Once we all heard, it was too late. No one could believe the carnage that he left behind. We were all damned, and it was because we had done nothing to save you."
"Save me?"
"An innocent. You should have been left out of the war, especially when we heard the news of your pregnancy."
"Who is we?"
"We… everyone in the community in which your husband l
ived. You must not realize the power that he had… has." He smirked.
"No. I, pretty much, live a bottle. So why does all this change now? Why are you hear, Dorian?"
He slipped on the shirt and grabbed a seat. "Has Dmitry returned? Is coming back to the Vory? I need to know." He sat in the chair backwards and leaned his body against it.
"I don't know. He seemed differently lately, but not that different. I thought that he was done with all of that."
"Understand, I would have been happy to stay away from him for the rest of my life, but his son made the best offer. My clients would not refuse. I know once Dmitry sees me, a war will begin again. And while I am no coward, I assure you that, I feel compelled to try to stop this before it starts. However, once it starts, he leaves me no choice."
Royal looked him in his chestnut colored eyes and listened as he told her about the deal, about his old dealings with Dmitry through Ivan, about the botched assassination attempts and about the bombs he placed inside of Dmitry's restaurant in Memphis to kill the entire Medlov crime family three years prior.
Royal was flabbergasted. She sat petrified, unable to speak.
"I don't why I am telling you all of this. I guess for me, I thought God would punish me because of what happened to you. But now I see you and you are alive and I feel compelled to fix this, only I'm not sure how," Dorian explained.
"I know how," Royal said finally in whisper. She looked up at him. "I'll get to Sochi tomorrow. If you agree to form a truce with my family and my sons crime family… " She shook her head in disgust and cringed. "Then I can persuade the two of them to let bygones be bygones, and we all walk away from this with no more to do with each other."
"I'm not sure such a truce would hold. Your outlook seems more optimistic than things really work."
"It's better to try than to knowingly allow bloodshed again, isn't it? Dmitry would never go back on his word, if he promised me or anyone. He's not that type of man."
"Didn't he promise you? He's gone back the Vor-for all we know, for good."
"It was to save Anatoly. I know it. I just do. He doesn't want that anymore. He wants us."
"Okay." He shook his head. "Okay. Yeah. If you are in Sochi with him tomorrow, and you can make them agree to a truce, then I'll do it. But it has to be after the deal is completed. Otherwise, my clients will kill us all. If you don't show, I'm sorry. I can only say that I tried."
"I understand." She stood up. "Thank you."
"For what?"
"For giving us a chance to live again. For not doing what Ivan did to us."
He smiled. "I have only one request. And I know it's selfish but… "
"Okay," she stepped closer to him.
"As a signal to let me know that you are still on my side, wear the dress that I bought."
She looked over at the dress bag. "It's awfully formal."
"So is the place that were meeting. You'll fit in perfectly."
"And it's at that hotel you were telling me about?"
"Yes. There will be a ticket waiting for you under the name Royal Stone."
Royal smiled. It felt good to hear that name again.
He reached out for her hand and kissed it. She did not pull away. She was enchanted by his kindness, grateful for it. He stood back up and looked down into her warm eyes. He could see why Dmitry had left his life for her. She was completely undeniable.
"Please, go," he whispered. "I can't control myself much longer."
Royal smiled and turned to grab the dress bag and jewelry. "Well, thank you again for being such a gentleman," she said in a low voice.
He saw her out and closed the door, aching to have her right then.
Chapter 17
By the time that Royal left Dorian's hotel room, she didn't feel like going back to the boutique. She was mentally exhausted from the thought of having to save her entire family, broken-hearted by her husband's deceitful little secret and confused by her immediate attraction to her husband's arch enemy. Overall, it had been one hell of a morning, so she decided to catch a cab to the condo in town and rest there for a while.
No one would know the difference, but at least she could get a plan in place to get to Sochi without Dmitry knowing.
The clouds had begun to blot out the sun, and the winds started to pick up. It was about to rain. Just what she needed. Raising her hand, she hailed a taxi and hurriedly got out of the weather.
When she got to her condo, she paid the driver and ran out of the rain up to the gate and punched in the code.
As soon as she opened the front door to her home, she knew someone else had been there. She pulled the gun from her purse and proceeded in. After many years of being a Medlov, the one thing she knew was to keep a weapon handy. Not bothering to say a word, she walked through the house quietly to each room, all of which had been occupied since she had last been there.
At the base of the stairs, she looked up towards the window on the second floor and saw no one in the reflection.
Slowly, she inched up each step until she arrived at the second floor. Her heart pounded a mile a minute in her chest. She swallowed hard as she arrived at her bedroom. The door was open and someone was lying in the bed asleep.
Cocking the gun, she went into the room and nearly fainted as she saw who was in the bed. That bitch, Victoria! She slipped out of her heels and dove into the bed on top of the startled woman.
"You fucking whore!" Royal screamed, snatching the woman up.
Victoria's body jerked and her eyes popped open to see Royal hit her in the eye with the end of her spiked stiletto. Blood spurted across the silver comforter as the women struggled. Royal reached back with a balled up fist and punched Victoria in the lip, then dug her nails into her chest.
"Get off me!" Victoria fought back, but Royal was much too angry and heavy. Her attempts were feeble at most.
Royal dragged her out of the bed by her hair and pointed the gun at her.
"So, Dmitry just figured he would play me like a fucking fiddle, huh? Move you across town like I wouldn't find out? I will cut his balls off!"
"No! No, Anatoly brought me here," she explained, covering her bloody face. "Please!"
"Anatoly?" Royal wiped her tear-stained face.
"He drugged me and brought me here," Victoria explained. "I'm working for him now. I swear!"
Royal stopped pointing the gun, pushed Victoria down and paced from side to side.
"I don't believe you. What the hell would he want with you?"
"I'm supposed to go to Sochi tomorrow."
The words rang in Royal's ears.
"Sochi?"
"Yes," Victoria covered her wounded face. "Dmitry had nothing to do with it!"
"I told you if I ever saw you again… " Royal pointed the gun and screamed. "You fucking home wreaker!"
"I know! I had every intention of leaving. Please. You have to believe me!" the woman cried. "Anatoly wouldn't let me. He grabbed me at the restaurant and brought me here. I don't even know where I am."
"What is going on in my family?" Royal screamed. She put her hand on her head and grunted. She looked back at Victoria bundled up by the bed covering her face. "What are you doing in Sochi tomorrow?"
"Buying art," she stuttered.
"For Dmitry and Anatoly?"
"I guess. I don't know. I wasn't told everything."
"Anatoly brought you here?"
"Yes. See, I'm in his shirt," she looked up at Royal desperately. "He just left. He said he wouldn't be back tonight. I'm supposed to get on a flight in the morning for Sochi and purchase some art tomorrow night. That's all I know."
Royal calmed herself. She breathed through her mouth, exhaling her anger. "You low down, conniving bitch."
"Look, I know that I was wrong," she wiped her face and calmed her breathing. "I've been apologizing for two fucking days, but I think that I've been paid back adequately for what I've done now."
"Did Anatoly touch you?"
"He didn't hurt m
e if that's what you mean."
"So you slept with him?"
"Yes," she said sighing. "Yes. Okay. I slept with him." She wiped her face on the sleeve of the shirt and shook her head.
Royal looked at her and shook her head in disgust. "I trusted you," she pointed the gun again.
"I. Am. Sorry."
Royal bit her lip and wiped the tears from her face. "Well, sorry just isn't good enough anymore," she said in a cool tone.
Royal leaned against the bed holding her heart and slid down against the mattress. Crying, she let out a painful sob as she dropped the gun.
Victoria was mortified, dumbfounded by what she had done to the woman. She went to her and sat by her on the floor.
"I am sorry," Victoria said in a hushed one.
"Yeah, me too."
They sat quietly in the now silent room alone together.
* * *
Dmitry had only made it home a half hour before he got a call from a manager at the Hotel Iron Gate. Royal had hand-delivered a dress to a suite and a gentlemen staying alone by the name of Andrew Oriachiav.
When he hung up the phone, he threw it across the room, knocking the picture off the wall. He knew something was wrong with Royal. It had to be this Andrew guy. Royal never hand-delivered a damned thing. And she was so eager to leave the restaurant earlier with her story about the shop.
He stood up and paced the room for a minute, turning redder by the second. If she was cheating on him with another man, he would kill her lover right in front of her. He would cut his heart out of his body and cut it into pieces in front of her! He leaned against the desk, then threw all the contents against the wall.
"Davyd!" he called, pulling his guns out of his desk drawer. "Bring my fucking car around and get the men together!"
* * *
Royal and Victoria talked over a cup of coffee and an emergency kit that Royal used to apply to Victoria wounds. They discussed the deal and Victoria's brief sexual encounter with Anatoly. Oddly enough, Royal had been extremely understanding and forgiving of the woman.
Dmitry's Royal Flush: Rise of the Queen Page 15