The Chronicles of Young Dmitry Medlov: Book One

by Latrivia Nelson

  She finally pulled herself up and followed him into the middle of the large bed. The desire to be with him burned through her as she realized that he would give her what she wanted as long as she did the same for him in return.

  He pulled her face towards him and descended with a passionate kiss. She inched up in the embrace of his solid arms and felt herself slip away into an abyss. Ahh. Young love. He kissed with the passion of a lion and yet caressed her with the care of a king. Slowly and gently, he tasted her, and then ravenously he slipped his large tongue down in the depths of her, feeding on her desire.

  “How is your heart?” he asked, cupping her left breast in his hand. His fingers played with her nipples.

  “My heart?” she asked curiously as he pinched her.

  “Do you have any heart problems?” His look was that of true concern.

  “No,” she said shocked. “I’m only 49. My heart is fine. Why you ask?”

  He pulled her hand towards his throbbing cock and leaned towards her blazing ear. “Because I’m not an inch shorter than a foot,” he smiled. “And I don’t want to kill you.” He caressed her shoulders.

  She laughed again with him as he laid his head back on her soft, goose-down pillows. Crawling on top of him, she avoided his mountainous member for the moment. Humor was priceless, and she rather enjoyed how sure of himself he was.

  “But do you know what to do with a foot, my love?” she asked, raking her hand over his taut chest, rippling with muscles. She rested her small fingers flat on his abdomen.

  He raised his head a bit and nodded, his blue eyes sparkling. “I’ll fuck you within an inch of your life, my lady,” he answered facetiously. “Do not let my age confuse you. I am all man.” With that, he relaxed the muscles in his stomach and breathed slowly.

  “That I believe.”

  There was silence. She sat back and shook her head. His penis stood at the crack of her bottom, reaching up from the bottom, past the top.

  “But you’ll never love me,” she said more as a statement than a question.

  “No,” he said quickly. “I’ll never love you, Lady Hutton. And I’ll never lie to you and tell you that I will.” His gaze locked on her.

  “And it doesn’t bother you to say that? To lie in bed and make love to me and know that you’ll never have one feeling for me?”

  “I never said that I wouldn’t have one feeling for you. I just won’t love you,” he said, watching her facial expression change.

  “Do you wish that I was Emma?”

  He smirked. “Of course.”

  “Then why would you still make love to me?”

  “You know why. You have more power than your daughter. You can get me what I need, and you can teach me what I need to know. You are more of an asset that she is regardless of how beautiful or young she is. At the end of the day, you are more desirable because of what you can offer.”

  Two things vexed Lady Hutton: his candidness and his still rock-hard penis. He was actually able to articulate such a cold statement with a straight face and remain ready to screw. She wasn’t the least bit sure if she should be appalled or aroused by him.

  “Then all I ask is that after you make love to me, you never touch my daughter.”

  With narrowed eyes, Dmitry reached down with his strong, large hands and picked her body up. Opening her legs further, he made her push her wet sex down on top of him in one aching rush.

  She arched her back and screamed out in pain and pleasure.

  Dmitry watched her expressionless, controlling both his physical and emotional reaction to her tight body. He gazed up at her languidly and said, “Once you have finished adjusting to the man I am below, maybe you’ll look again at the man I am above. Of my own volition, I would never touch your daughter now. But since I have chosen you and you me, then I will have you as I choose from now on until we’re both good and sick of each other.”

  Biting her lip, she shook in disbelief of his outrageous size. Nodding, she looked into his eyes. She managed after a moment to speak. Her lip quivered. “Fine, but never lie to me again.”

  “Lie to you?” he sat up and thrust once into her, nearly paralyzing her with his forceful blow.

  “Yes,” she panted. “You said a foot. You’re much large than a fucking foot.”

  Smiling, Dmitry slowly rotated his hips, feeling her cream his thighs. “Well, I hate to over promise.”

  Chapter Six

  Emma couldn’t believe her ears. She stood at her mother’s door listening to her moan and scream like a wild animal. Holding her mouth, she stepped away with tears in her eyes, sure of whom the gentleman caller was even without seeing him. Dmitry. That bastard! He used her. He betrayed her to get what he wanted. Another order. Another sale. Another contact. Shaking her head, she turned and walked away, determined to get even.

  “Are you pleased yet?” Dmitry asked, wiping the sweat from his brow on Lady Hutton’s white, Egyptian cotton sheets.

  Out of breath and sweating, Lady Hutton rolled over on her side and gazed over at the fireplace. Her wet hair stuck to her neck. Her thighs were soaked. And she couldn’t speak. Even if she wanted to, no words would slip from her dry, battered lips yet. It has been two decades since she’d erupted in such a manner. In fact, she had all but forgotten the feeling of such mesmerizing and intoxicating sex. Nodding, she closed her eyes and slowed her breathing, clenching the covers for bearing.

  Pleased with himself, Dmitry laid his head back on the pillow and cocked his legs up. His semi-hard penis fell between his hairy thighs and rested on his stomach. Looking up at the canopy top above them, he yawned and closed his eyes. “Would you mind if I slept for a while?” he asked, realizing that she might have other plans and need him to take his leave soon.

  There was a long, pregnant pause as she tried to pull herself together.

  “You may move in if you like,” she said playfully. “Yes, please. I insist. Rest a while, then shower, and you and I can talk about the finer points of dressing. Plus, I’ve arranged for you to go to my late husband’s tailor. You have an account there. He’ll dress you from now on, and money is no object. So don’t be frugal.”

  He looked over at her and smiled. “Thank you.”

  “You’ve earned it,” she said, still panting. “Also, you should go and visit our car dealer and pick out an automobile. Mercedes Benz is what I’d recommend, but it’s up to you. Nothing flashy, like those damned Mazerati’s. Get a black luxury sedan. I’ll give you the card for Hamilton. He can be trusted and will be discreet.”

  Dmitry was speechless. Had he done that well?

  Lady Hutton turned to him. “And call me Catherine.” Her eyes were tired and red, but still bright and beautiful. Small lines formed at the sides of her lids, showing her age.

  “Catherine,” Dmitry repeated in reverence. “That’s a beautiful name.” He looked away.

  She looked at him while he looked up at the ceiling. How she wanted him forever. Dmitry was such a beautiful man.

  Blonde, foreboding, strikingly handsome and completely virile. He defied man’s normal definition of masculine. In fact, he redefined the very thought of such a word. It was impossible for her to imagine that he was barely twenty. The thought was so obscene until she pushed it to the farthest places of her mind in order to keep from feeling like the deviant she surely was.

  “Where do you live?” she finally asked, resting on her elbow. She pulled her sticky hair from her face.

  “In a garage,” he said without thought. “It’s in Brixton. Well, actually, I live above the garage in an apartment. It’s full of books. I…um…I love to read when I have time. If I could have finished school, I think I would have gone to college.” He closed his eyes again.

  “So you have no formal education?”

  “No.” His eyes were still shut.

  She smiled and placed her hand on his chest. “Come three times a week, and once a week, I will teach you the art of business. It won’t be like what you’
re used to. I will teach you the fundamentals of capitalism.”

  His eyes popped open. Dmitry face grew brighter than even a moment ago when she gave him a car. “That would be excellent. There is so much that I need to learn. Really, it would be an honor.” He turned to her again.

  “For both of us, I’m sure.” She touched his face and looked over at the picture of her son on the nightstand. “How would your mother feel about this? Would she die if she were to find out that you were making love to a woman her age?” She grinned sheepishly. Her red cheeks blossomed.

  Dmitry touched her hand. “My mother’s dead. And she was a whore, so she’d expect no less than what we’ve arranged. I’ve never had a family. I’ve never been around a woman like you.” He clenched his jaw. “I’ve never felt like this one day in my entire life.” He swallowed hard. “I guess even if this didn’t work, I’d still owe you for giving me a moment’s rest.”

  Catherine listened on humbled by his delicate confession. That was the thing about young men. They didn’t bottle up and keep their feelings hidden like the older ones. She could feel his honesty, and it warmed her heart to the core.

  “When you’ve placed the order and given the quote for the cost of our shipment, then I will give you extra for yourself. You and your brother should consider a place downtown. London is very beautiful all over, but it’s about location. If you need references, I’ll provide the best ones in the country. No one will turn you away. Simply choose where you want to call home, and it will be arranged,” she said in a matter-of-fact tone.

  “Are you serious?”

  “Very,” she said, resting her head on his arm.

  He ran his fingers through her hair. “I feel as though you’ve already given me too much, Catherine. At some point, you might look back at this and regret it. And I don’t want that to come to pass.”

  “You don’t know, do you?” She bit her lip.

  “Know what?” His brow furrowed.

  She sighed and ran her hand over her aching nipples, ready for a sixth helping. “I’m a billionaire, my love” she said, crawling over on top of him again.

  “So is it possible that you already know where I live?” he asked, slipping his hard body inside of hers.

  The tight stretch made her shudder. “Yes, but I wanted to see if you’d be completely honest.” She rocked on his body, eager to feel him climax inside her again.

  “And was I honest?”

  “Yes. And as long as you continue to do that,” she began to slowly ride him. “And this,” she said, feeling the heat rise again in her body. “Then you can have whatever your heart desires.”

  ***

  At nearly dusk, Dmitry stood looking at his reformed reflection in the large mirror of Lady Hutton’s dressing room, marveling at how different he looked. Dressed in a black suit with 24-carat gold cuff links, a starched white button-down shirt, a leather belt and matching, black leather shoes, smelling of expensive cologne and wearing the late Lord Hutton’s Presidential Rolex, he no longer recognized himself. He looked like the models he’d seen on a hundred magazine covers, only better.

  Catherine sat behind him on a chaise lounge chair smiling and drinking a glass of wine. She was pleased with herself for transforming the young man into something remarkable, but Dmitry made that easy. He was remarkable already.

  “So, you like it?” she asked with a clever grin.

  “No. I love it,” Dmitry answered.

  “This is how I want to see you for the rest of our days together. I want you to remember your first lessons of today. Dress does make the man. Power is recognized through how you stand and how you present yourself. And a gentleman is always prepared at anytime for a meeting, a dinner, an engagement of any kind as long as he’s in a black suit.”

  “Armani,” Dmitry corrected.

  “You’ll get over that label soon. When you meet with the tailor, you’ll think that suit is shabby,” she grinned. As she tried to sit up, she winced. “I won’t be able to see you out.”

  Dmitry looked back at her, and noticed that she was growing pale. “Are you still sore?”

  “Yes, I need to soak. I’m afraid I’m spent now.” She moved her golden locks from her face. “But I have no complaints.”

  “Should I come back the day after tomorrow then?” He walked over to her and knelt down. Taking her hand in his own, he kissed it.

  She ran her hand through his golden, curly locks and smiled. “We won’t make love everyday. Unfortunately, my body cannot take it. However, there is so much for me to teach you in such little time until I want you to never miss an appointment with me.” She looked into his eyes.

  “I wouldn’t dream of it,” he said, standing up. He looked at his new watch. “Well, I better go.”

  She looked up at him, hoping he’d leave her with a kiss, but he did not. Excusing himself from her presence with a nod, she heard her bedroom door open and close shut.

  ***

  As Dmitry pulled up to his broken down garage, he realized for the first time that he lived in a shit hole. Having spent a day in Lady Hutton’s home, he was suddenly ashamed of what he thought only hours ago to be a treasure.

  Stepping out of his old car, he slammed the door shut and went inside to find the place empty. The other men were gone.

  Davyd had left a note on the refrigerator saying that he’d gone out for the night, and the order had already been placed with the general. He’d talk to him more about it when he returned.

  Dmitry got the feeling as he read it that something was wrong. Davyd never left without them talking first. Pulling off his suit jacket, he flipped it over his shoulder and made his way upstairs.

  The quiet calm of the musty building clouded his thoughts with each step he took towards his room. But as he got to his door, he noticed that his light was on.

  Pulling his gun from its holster, he pushed the door open with the gun to find Ivan lying naked in his bed. Beside him lay Emma asleep and naked with Ivan’s arm wrapped securely around her.

  Dmitry stood beside the bed a moment looking at the both of them before he turned away. Laying his jacket on the chair, he grabbed a book and headed to the door.

  “I see that you’ve made it back from my dear mother’s,” Emma said, sitting up. Her red nipples were rigid and pearled. Her short red hair seemed even more vibrant in the low lights of the room.

  Dmitry looked at her and raised his brow. “Yes,” he said in a low whisper to keep from waking his brother.

  “And was she a good screw?” she asked angrily.

  Ivan stirred.

  Dmitry put his index finger to his lips. “We don’t have to talk about this now. I’ll leave you alone with my brother.”

  “I did this for you, you know.” She threw Ivan’s arm from around her. “I did this to hurt you.”

  “Well,” Dmitry sighed. “You shouldn’t have.”

  “Why? Didn’t you screw my sick mother to get what you wanted?”

  “Catherine’s sick?” Dmitry asked.

  “She’s dying of ovarian cancer, you fucking asshole,” she said with tears in her eyes. “Now you want to pretend that she didn’t tell you?”

  Dmitry pulled a handkerchief from his coat and walked over to throw it on the bed beside her. He looked her in her eyes without blinking.

  “No, she didn’t tell me. Not that it would have made a bit of difference. Look, I would have liked for it to be you in that room today, but you and I both know why it wasn’t. You’re not in a position to get me what I need. You can’t help me help my brothers. There are men depending on me, and love, or the thought of it, won’t pay a fucking pound. So, you’ll have to excuse me if I made the wiser choice. I can assure you that it had nothing to do with feelings but everything to do with money. Your mother has it, and I’d have to wait too fucking long for you to acquire it. I had to go straight to the source. Pardon me for being honest, but I’m not a liar, and I’m not going to look you in your face and start now. It must be pain
ful for you, but there are better things in life than being with me.”

  “So you’re going to do it again?” she asked appalled.

  “What I do is none of your business, Emma. I don’t know why you thought that it was.”

  “You’re a whore. You’re a poor, stupid, worthless motherfucking whore,” she cried.

  Ivan’s eyes popped open, and he sat up. “What the fuck did you call him?” he said her angrily. His glare was already wicked and his fist balled up.

  “Don’t you dare, Ivan,” Dmitry ordered, raising his finger to point it at his brother. “Emma is just upset, and she has every reason to be.” He looked at her sadly. It was never his intention to hurt her.