by Tillie Cole
As screwed up as it sounded, I was glad he took out his sick fantasies on them and not me. Yet strangely, I knew as messed up as Alik was, he would never hurt me … not unless I tried to break free of him. My life was safer with him if I acted the role of the perfect Bratva wife. What hurt most was my father was so proud of me for taking that honorable mantle.
“Shut the fuck up, Myshka. I’m out, working off the fight. Your papa took your wet cunt from me or you’d be screaming under me right now. Even though his wrinkled dick is here in the club with me, getting sucked off by hookers your age. You know I need to fuck, but these sluts are never you, baby, never my Myshka. They’re just whores, nothing but cum bags. I think of you the whole time I’m inside them, picturing you squirming beneath me, scratching my back. How’s that? That make you feel better? You just sit tight at home and I’ll see you tomorrow. And as long as you stay inside, we don’t have problems. Yes?”
“Yes,” I whispered in reply, feeling sick to my stomach.
“I love you, Myshka,” Alik said, his harsh tone thawing a few degrees.
“I love you too,” I replied. It was rote, sounding more like a Stepford Wife than a loving fiancée besotted with her true love.
The cell went dead, and I leapt from my bed, hand to my forehead as despair swept through me. I hated this damn life, trapped in a cage by Papa and Alik’s psychotic obsession. I was twenty-five, for Christ’s sake, yet I was locked away like some virginal fifteen-year-old.
At times I hated my life.
The Byki would be downstairs, protecting the Pakhan’s stronghold, in reality stopping me from leaving the front door, but I just had to get out. I needed fresh air. And I’d never disobeyed rules, so even contemplating sneaking out was causing me to break into cold sweats.
Grabbing my jacket from my closet, I swung it on and headed to my window. Carefully opening it, I crept onto the fire escape. Tiptoeing down the metal stairs, I jumped onto the sidewalk. Checking that I hadn’t been seen, I began walking in the shadows, occasionally glancing up at the night sky, picturing Raze’s eyes meeting mine as he won the fight, my relief of his victory evident on my face.
He had looked for me. He’d found me in the sea of gambling men.
Lord! I couldn’t get him from my head! I was going crazy wondering if this mysterious homeless man could be my Luka.
The sound of a car pulling up beside me made me turn. Headlights flared and blinded me. I jumped back, suddenly fearful of who might be after me. Then Serge’s familiar face came into view, his window open and his light eyes boring into mine.
“Serge!” I said, out of breath and in shock.
“Miss Volkova, what are doing out of the house? You know it’s not allowed.” Serge reprimanded me, and then all I felt was pissed off.
“Serge, I needed fresh air. My fiancé and my papa are out at a titty bar. Alik’s probably screwing a long line of whores while I’m trapped inside my bedroom like a naughty child. He told me not to move or I’d piss him off, and that’s not how a good wife of a Bratva boss should act. So I needed some fresh air, okay? I’m twenty-five, I run a multimillion-dollar gambling ring made up of murderers and psychos, and I just wanted to take a damn walk on my own for once in my life!”
Serge’s face softened as I panted, my breath lost through exertion, and pulling the car to a stop, he got out of the driver’s door.
“You can’t be out here, Kisa. It’s too dangerous. Too many men wanting revenge on your papa, Alik, Abram, Ivan … Hell, take your pick! I know you feel trapped. I’m not stupid. I’ve been with you since you were little, but I can’t disobey orders or they’ll kill me.”
Dropping my head, feeling guilty at my tirade, I insisted, “I’m not going back yet, Serge. I’m suffocating under their rules. I’m drowning…” Tears filled my eyes and I tried in vain to blink them away, but I found myself whispering, “I’m miserable.”
Serge sighed and stepped forward, pulling me into his chest for a hug. “Then I’ll drive you somewhere. That way I’ll know you’re safe and you can still have some freedom.”
Tipping my head back at the bright moon, I then looked to Serge. “Fine, thank you. Please take me to the gym. I may as well get some work done if I can’t sleep.”
Serge’s face relaxed and he opened the rear door for me, nodding his approval. He slipped back into the driver’s seat, and we raced through the streets of Brooklyn. I smiled at the groups of women stumbling from bars with their friends, not a care in the world, and the couples wrapped around each other’s waists, high off being together, enjoying each other’s company—probably heading back home to make love.
I was happy for those people, but what I felt was crushing disappointment. It would never be me. I would never be allowed out with friends. I would never, could never, have a loving relationship with Alik. Jealous possession isn’t love. I knew that much. He would always control me. I was becoming so desperate to escape my fate that I was imagining a homeless fighter being the only boy I’d ever loved.
I would be a prisoner until I died … the life of a Bratva queen.
Deciding to close my eyes to any other sight that would cause me pain, I rested my head back on the seat and zoned out until we arrived at the gym.
As I opened the back passenger door, Serge tried to follow me inside to the gym.
“No, Serge, please. I want to be alone,” I pleaded.
Serge stopped in his tracks.
“Miss Volkova, you know I can’t leave you. It is forbidden.”
“I know. Can you please just wait out here until I’m ready to go home? Please … I need some time alone.”
Serge stared at me, and my stomach rolled, thinking he was going to say no, when on a sigh he shook his head. “I’ll wait in the car. If you need me, call,” he said, getting back into the cab and waving his cell to show me he was keeping it close by. Giving him a thankful smile, I unlocked the side door and entered the sparse and empty warehouse-turned-gym, switching on only minimum lights. I headed for my place of solitude, my office.
As I approached the office door, I noticed a muted glow coming from under one of the training room doors at the back of the gym. I frowned. Nobody was meant to be here. The gym had been locked and secured once all the fighters had gone to The Dungeon earlier in the day.
Someone was here.
Feeling a sense of fear run down my spine, I hurried to my office safe and, checking over my shoulder, opened a heavy door to pull out my Beretta. Papa insisted I could access one of these bad boys wherever I went—all over our house and at several secret locations here at work.
My breathing was shallow as fear took hold. I walked slowly and silently toward the back room that emitted the light. Rather too preoccupied with steadying my shaking limbs, I took little note of where I was and whose training room it was.
Standing at the door, I steeled my nerves and took in a deep breath before placing my hand on the doorknob and slowly turning it. The door creaked open.
Bringing my gun up higher, I edged through the doorway. The first thing I noticed was a mat on the floor and a thick blanket forming what looked to be a makeshift bed.
Someone was sleeping here?
Who—?
Taking me off guard, a hand slapped across my mouth. I tried to scream as I was quickly disarmed and held in an unyielding grip. Warm breath ghosted past my ears and a pit of dread opened in my stomach.
I could feel a heart pounding in the attacker’s chest pressed to my back. All I could think was that my father wouldn’t cope if I died too. He’d lost my brother, my mother, and I was now sure I was going to die here too, until my attacker rasped out, “Stop struggling.”
All the hairs on the back of my neck stood up and every muscle froze, obeying his command.
“Good,” he growled. “Don’t scream and I’ll remove my hand.”
I nodded awkwardly, still trapped in his grip. As I tried to relax my muscles, his hand gradually pulled away from my mouth. His large b
ody stepped back from being flush to my back.
Unsure if my feet would work, I started to turn, hearing deep breathing behind me. The dull glow from the adjoining bathroom was the only light in the dim room, the man’s shadow darkening the old whitewash wall.
Holding my breath, I whipped myself around and immediately gasped when I found Raze glaring at me. Dressed only in black boxer briefs, his large muscled, ripped body tensed as he watched me with those hypnotic brown eyes.
“Raze?” I whispered, legs now feeling like Jell-O.
Raze watched me and his nostrils flared, his cheeks flushing as heat rose up his face. “Kisa…” he rasped out, almost like he was in pain.
As my name tumbled from his lips, my stomach tingled, my breasts ached, and moisture pooled between my legs. Raze had switched on every part of my body, as if it were on fire.
Edging closer, feeling the waves of heat from his body, his fresh scent hit me, and a whimper escaped my lips. A rumble sounded in Raze’s chest. My need to touch him, to feel him, grew to an impossibly high level. By the clenching of his fists at his sides, the gritting of his teeth, and those hungry eyes, I knew he wanted me too … desperately.
“Raze…” I whispered as my toes met his and, unconsciously, my finger lifted to run down his stubbled cheek. There wasn’t a scratch on his body from the fight tonight. “Why are you here?”
Raze’s eyes closed at my touch. Looking down, I saw him harden beneath his black boxers, the material straining with his size. My hand continued to travel down, shivers wracking Raze’s skin at my touch, his full lips parting to let a slow hiss of breath slip from his mouth.
At this moment, I wasn’t thinking of Alik, my father, my duty as a Volkova, or even the consequence of touching Raze like this. The need to break free from my suffocating life was driving me forward, making me reckless in my choices.
All I could think was how beautiful Raze was. How strong and fearless, how feral, how raw. He was untamed. He had no social grace, was devoid of knowledge about how to be a regular person. He was curt and aggressive, but his expressive eyes, when they looked at me, made me feel safe, made me see there was someone else in there … someone my soul matched. Gave me faith that he wasn’t the monster he seemed.
“I sleep here,” he answered eventually. His body remained as still as a statue as I continued to marvel at his muscles, drinking in his demonic tattoos, wondering why he had such evil images permanently etched on his skin.
My finger stopped its exploration and my eyes looked up to his. “You’re staying here?”
“I have nowhere else to go,” he replied gruffly. And with that, pain sliced through my chest as if my heart had split in two.
Raze dipped his head to escape my sympathetic gaze.
I lifted my finger and tipped up his chin. I stayed silent until his eyes looked to mine, and I asked, “Where have you come from?”
Emotion leaked from his expression and he whispered, “Hell.”
My attention was drawn to the demons on his chest, the number, then his tallies … and finally to the newest addition scraped onto his skin—his kill from tonight.
The air seemed to pulse around us as some unexplainable force pulled us together. Raze’s neck tensed, every vein and threaded cord protruding. He was physically holding himself back from me.
I was fighting the attraction, tensing my thighs as I squirmed, trying to alleviate the pressure building at my core. But when my palms landed on Raze’s chest, his hot skin almost scalding my palms, he leaned in, his nose tucking into the crook of my neck.
I moaned as he inhaled and growled, “I want you.”
Three words. Three simple words became my undoing. Spoken roughly, dominantly, yet it sounded like poetry to my soul.
Without giving me time to think, Raze gripped my arms and drove me backward until my ass hit the wall. He was panting into my neck. Releasing a hungry groan, my hands grasped his messy sandy hair, and I tipped back my head, giving him more access. As his bulging thigh slipped between my legs, his stiff cock brushed against my throbbing clit.
“Raze!” I cried out as pleasure took hold, and I pulled on the thick strands of his hair.
Raze let out a sound like the snarl of a wild animal. He reared back his head, his unsure brown eyes looking into my blue, and he asked nervously, “Can I have you?”
My heart beat so fast at the severity of want on his face that I thought I would pass out, or my heat would shatter me into a million pieces.
Raze squeezed his eyes shut as his arms wrapped around me, holding me so close, like he was scared I would try to run away.
“Can I have you? I want to have you … I need to have you,” he whispered, his deep voice guttural and rough, tense like a taut rope about to snap.
Letting any lingering worries flee my mind, I threw my arms around his perfectly sculpted shoulders and, brushing my mouth past his ear, whispered, “You can have me, Raze. You can have all of me.”
Raze stilled, long seconds ticking by, but then I felt the slow, wet lick of his tongue along the side of my neck, and he sprang into motion.
His arms released me. Suddenly, my shirt was ripped apart at the seams, the buttons spraying on the ground. Raze’s face was determined, and he was lost in his lust.
My breasts were hard under my bra, aching to be touched. Focusing his brown eyes on my heaving chest, Raze ripped my bra apart, bare breasts exposed, and his mouth immediately latched onto a hard, raised nipple. His tongue furiously licked at my flesh and my eyes rolled back at the sensation. I almost came just at the feel of his hot mouth on my skin.
“Raze…” I murmured, clutching his muscles in my hands, becoming more and more turned on by the rough and scarred skin under my palms.
Untamed and savage growls ripped from Raze’s throat. His hands lowered and split apart my pants. The material tearing in two, he threw them to the ground. I stood there only in my string black thong, arms still gripping Raze’s bulking biceps. Raze stepped back and his wide eyes drank me in from head to toe, his cock now so hard it nearly ripped through his boxers. Still transfixed at my exposed breasts, Raze dipped his hand into his boxers and began sliding it up and down his dick in what had to be the best torture on Earth.
“Raze … I need you. Let me have you too,” I moaned as I palmed my breasts, pinching my nipples as I watched this usually controlled man come slowly undone.
Grumbling something I couldn’t make out, Raze wrenched down his boxers, his long, thick cock coming into view. I almost passed out at how strong and wild he appeared, about to take me … or in his words, have me.
“Raze, please,” I begged one more time, and this time something within him snapped. Lurching forward, Raze’s hands went straight to my thong, his legs bent, and he snapped the thin piece of string from my body. I was now totally bare.
His calloused hands smoothed up my thighs, over my hips, my waist, before moving in to cup my breasts. I watched his eyes ignite with need, and I slipped my right hand down his stacked abs and wrapped it around the wide girth of his cock. Raze threw back his head and hissed as his fingers pinched my nipple, and I slowly began to stroke my hand up and down, loving watching him fall apart.
Raze’s left hand slapped against the wall behind me, his hips rocking back and forth with the movement of my hand. His eyes were closed, his mouth gaping; he looked breathtaking, and I found myself begging, “Kiss me.”
Raze abruptly stilled and his eyes snapped open, the smudge of blue seeming to shine like the clearest sea against the dark canvas of the brown.
My eyebrows furrowed at his strange reaction, and he jerked back a few steps, my naked body now feeling cold.
“Raze?” I questioned, and he started pacing the floor before me, his face torn and panicked.
“Raze?” I pushed again, and his eyes slid to mine, then away again. I felt our connection slipping. I had no idea what I’d done.
Feeling a chill settle over my naked skin, I turned to cover my breasts
with my hands, when Raze released a pained groan and came at me again, his chest and hips pinning me against the wall and his large palms on my cheeks. His eyes were focused on my lips, and he was panting hard, but my heart fell when I saw nervousness in his eyes.
My hands cupped his cheeks and Raze looked to me. “Raze?” I asked. “Have you ever kissed anyone before?”
A wash of uncertainty and then perhaps embarrassment engulfed his face. “I … I don’t know,” he said quietly. “I don’t remember.”
Tears pricked my eyes. What the hell had happened to him? And where the hell had he come from?
“It’s okay,” I said and began leaning in. Raze stiffening at the action. He was like a statue as my lips hovered just an inch from his, and I whispered, “Can I have you?” My heart beat frantically.
Raze’s shoulders relaxed, and I used the opportunity to press my lips against his. My heart instantly swelled and a sense of souls merging filled me so much it was almost unbearable.
Raze’s hands on my cheeks, at first unmoving, tightened their grip, and his lips slowly began working against mine. That was all it took. One touch, one kiss, and something within him snapped and his mouth possessed mine, his tongue spearing into my mouth, controlling mine.
Feeling a wetness between my thighs, I moaned and began grinding against his thigh, then shifted over until his cock was flush against my pussy. I tried to rip my lips from his mouth, but Raze’s seemed fused to mine. He wouldn’t let go. He owned me with the kiss, having me, completely having me.
My hand ran down between us and I cupped his balls, massaging them in the palm of my hand. Raze let out a roar into my mouth, and his hips started thrusting into my hand, his cock sliding along the drenched folds of my pussy.
Managing to pull my mouth away, I demanded, “Fuck me, Raze … Fuck me.”
And that was all it took. In seconds, Raze had flipped me around and bent me over the nearby bench, my cheek pressed to the hard wood. I didn’t even think about protection. As stupid of me as this was, I really didn’t care. I was on the pill, and at this moment, it was enough.