Perfectly Damaged: Luka : A bad boy mafia romance

by Alice May Ball

  “I’m good.” Her voice was faint. “How are you doing?” It sounded like she was running.

  “I said, where are you.”

  “Oh, I’m just near the apartment.”

  “That’s great. Go straight up to the penthouse. We’ll be back real soon.”

  “Great,” she said, sounding thinner and breaking up some. “I’m just going to stop in on Barney; I’m right by his building. I’ll see you back—”

  “No,” Agostini said, “don’t go—” But she’d either hung up or been cut off. He tried to call back, but he got voicemail every time.

  He grabbed Calhoun’s shoulder. “Step on it, can you?”

  “Did I hear that right, boss, that she’s going up to see Barney?”

  “That’s it exactly.”

  Callaghan said, “So, she might be running right into Yvgeny.”

  “Calhoun, get around that damned truck, can’t you?”

  Princess dashed through a break in the traffic and across the four lanes of asphalt. The signal had dropped out on her cellphone, but she was sure that Agostini had been saying something. She wondered whether to call him back as she weaved by a big, matte black SUV.

  At the curb, in front of the upmarket brownstone where Blair Barney’s office was, Princess turned away and looked toward Park Place Pinnacle as she pressed the button to return his call. Busy. He gave her the impression he was on his way back. Almost here, perhaps. She looked down the street the other way.

  As she turned, two strong hands gripped her shoulders.

  At the sound of his voice, Princess froze. “Little mouse.” He was behind her. “How good it is to see you.”

  He turned her around to face him. “You’re looking for your knight in shining armor, I think.” His pale eyes sent a chill down her body. Two of his henchmen stood behind him, and that was his Hummer parked at the curb. She should have realized.

  He held her firmly. “Perhaps you are looking for the wrong knight, or the knight in the wrong armor.” He pulled her closer, towering over her, and he put his arm across her shoulders and pulled her tight against him.

  “That man, Pierce Agostini—he is no good for you, little mouse. He is gangster. Not even good gangster. You should have proper protector. Strong man, a man strong like wall. Mm?”

  His smile was his most frightening expression yet.

  “Maybe I take care of you now. Mm?” Her teeth clenched as he looked in her eyes. “But you were expecting him along this way, yes?” He turned his head. “Vassily. You and Mikhail, back in the car. Be ready. I wait here.”

  He moved, pulling her with him, back to the wall of the brownstone. “You think he comes here now, no?”

  “No.” She said it as clearly and flatly as she could, while inside, she shook like a leaf in a gale.

  “You do, little mouse.” Yvgeny squeezed her arm in a way that was horribly intimate. His cologne was overpowering her. “I know that you do.” He spoke in a sing-song voice, like he was talking to a child. “You’re so sweet.” He squeezed her arm again and she breathed in sharply.

  “Mm. You smell sweet, too.” Princess felt hot and cursed the treachery of her female body. “Maybe you’re a little sugar mouse. Mm?”

  She tried to stop herself from writhing in his grasp, but her whole body wanted to be away from him. He pulled her against him. His body was hot. Against her soft ass, she felt him uncoil and harden.

  She winced when he spoke into her ear. “I know that you expect him here, because I saw you look up the street this way.” He turned her and himself toward the Park Place Pinnacle. “And then you looked up the street the other way.”

  He turned them back. Pierce Agostini walked along the street toward them with his hands out to his sides. Princess shook her head at him but he kept on coming. “See?” Yvgeny’s voice was an exaggeration of glee. “Yvgeny knew.”

  He held her even closer as he said, “Maybe I should have put you in the SUV, nice and safe, mm?”

  And he whispered in her ear, “Are you afraid of me now, little mouse?” She wanted to jam her heel back into his balls and tell him that she wasn’t afraid of him. The way she was shaking, though, she wasn’t sure it would work.

  As he squeezed her, Princess heard the fine, smooth clicks of a gun being cocked.

  Just a few days ago, she probably wouldn’t have known what the sound was. In just a week or so, she’d heard so many that if she thought about it, she might have a stab at identifying what kind it was.

  At the same time, a black SUV—Agostini’s, she thought—stopped right alongside the Hummer. The driver’s door opened and slammed, and Calhoun appeared on the curb side of the Hummer, at the back. His arms were out, holding a gun in the direction of the doors.

  At the first sound of the gun cocking, Yvgeny froze. Behind, in her periphery, Princess saw the shine of polished steel. A short, fat gun barrel. The gun was gripped by two big black hands.

  The barrel was jammed into the side of Yvgeny’s head.

  “Are ye all right there, Miss?” Calhoun’s soft brogue almost made her want to weep. Agostini stepped toward Yvgeny.

  His eyes went to her first, looking to see if she was okay. Then he said to Yvgeny, “Your Cossack goons are smart, right? They’ll know that if they make a move, the safest thing for us is to blow your head up like a cantaloupe. They’ll know that, right?”

  Yvgeny said nothing. Princess felt him tense.

  “That’s if any of them can get out past my marksman there,” Agostini said. “They can’t get out the other side, of course. You know these two men both are champion marksmen? Trained in the British SBS. Great guys.”

  Calhoun said, “Do put your hands behind your head, please, Yvgeny. There’s a good fellow.”

  Slowly, Yvgeny let go of Princess. She saw his head jerk to the side as Calhoun shoved the gun harder against his temple. Agostini beckoned to her with his hand upwards, closing his fingers. Was it a gesture of protection, or of captivity?

  She didn’t care—she ran to him. She heard Yvgeny laugh. “Little sugar mouse thinks she’s safe with the not-so-good American gangster. The play-gangster.”

  Calhoun held him by the hair on the top of his head and shoved him with the gun, out toward the street. Agostini held her by the waist. She leaned into him when he pulled her close.

  Calhoun held Yvgeny up against the back of their car. Agostini steered Princess around past them and into the back. Callaghan came quickly after them, walking backwards in a crouch with the gun still extended in his hands, right up until he slid into the driver’s seat.

  Calhoun kept a hold of Yvgeny as he backed toward the open rear door. As he slid in and let go of Yvgeny’s hair, Callaghan gunned the engine and they were away.

  Calhoun said, “Has Yvgeny ever been up here, boss?”

  “You mean does he know where we live?”

  “I suppose that I do. But the safe assumption has to be that he does.”

  Princess clung to Agostini’s chest the block and a half to home and around the corner into the garage. She was surprised to catch herself thinking of it as “home.”

  Dino had wanted to hear every detail, but Agostini’s first concern was to get in touch with Barney. When he called, the little guy said, “Yvgeny was just on his way here about an hour ago—or at least, he said he was. I haven’t heard from him since he called to say that he was coming.”

  Agostini advised him not to let Yvgeny into his building and not to see him at all, if he could possibly help it.

  Princess had been listening. Since they got back to the apartment, she had kept pretty close to Agostini. “He’s a sweet little guy,” she said. “I would hate for anything to happen to him.”

  Barney hadn’t struck Agostini as particularly “sweet,” but he didn’t feel like arguing the point. He was amazed at how Princess still managed pull surprises out of the bag.

  Today, she had as much success in rescuing his project as he did. And he had headed a team of three armed an
d experienced men. She did it on her own, and with just a phone. He found himself thinking about ways they might continue to partner together.

  He couldn’t really see it panning out, though. Top of her agenda was still getting her club back. There was no easy way he could hand it to her now. Not with the debts her Daddy had run up.

  While Agostini owned it, she could run it. Now his investment fund looked like it might be secure, he could probably let her run it in any way she liked.

  Her father’s debts themselves would have been bad enough—they were pretty stupid amounts—but the guys he owed? Right now, she was way better off with her father not owning Hotsteppa’s. If he did, Fat Tony and the others would be in there like sharks. They’d tear the place to ribbons just to liquidate the assets and get paid off.

  No, there was no easy way to see himself and Princess as partners. Shame. She was a pretty useful team member for a brat. How was he going to bring it to the point of handing her back, though—that was the problem.

  Any time, he could open the cage and let her out, but she wouldn’t be satisfied without getting ownership of the club back. Probably was a pity she didn’t use her fuck ticket last night, after all.

  With a sigh, he remembered her creamy, soft ass. The gorgeous heat in her pussy flooded back to him along with the taste of her. God, that taste. His tongue was pressed between his lips. He couldn’t imagine himself ever getting back there now.

  His cock had stiffened so long and so hard, his pants were stretched out in front of him. He turned to step out into the dark loggia.

  Princess saw him alone in the loggia and went to join him.

  “You do treat your hostages well,” she purred as she approached his silhouette. “Especially when it comes to saving, protecting, and rescuing.” Look at the strong delta of his back. His ass is so fine. Maybe I really should cash in that “once and once only” ticket.

  She was saying, “I’ll make those points on your HostageAdvisor review,” as she walked around to look in his face. “Five stars for food, dungeon and protection…” She saw the humongous tent pole in his pants.

  She stared at him, her mouth agape.

  “Am I interrupting something?”

  Self-satisfied grin still perfectly intact, he said, “I was thinking of you. Obviously.”

  “Yeah. Obviously,” she said. “Not one of the cover models you’ve got lined up for tonight or tomorrow. Not some of the girls from last night that you might have gone and consoled yourself with.”

  She looked at him with contempt, although it did nothing to dislodge that arrogant grin of his. “No, you were thinking about your sweet little Princess,” she said, voice dripping in sarcasm. But when she did, his pants almost leaped at her, it beat so hard.

  She blushed. “You really were thinking of me.” It twitched again. It was one huge cock, for certain. Just being in the room with it made her so wet her knees trembled.

  Images and recollections flooded her. Memories of his hands, of the skill and precision of his nimble lips and his athletic tongue, the hard heat of his body.

  Princess stood close in front of him and ran her cupped hand up the underside of the bulge. She quivered when she felt the weight of it. In a low voice, he said, “Dino, Callaghan, Calhoun, they’re all still out there behind me, right?”

  She twinkled and licked her lips as she nodded.

  “What about all the girls?”

  “I sent them away on errands.” She ran her finger down the button fly of his beautiful fine cotton shirt. “They went to the corners of the city to do the master’s errands.”

  “The men are still there, though.”

  “Hasn’t stopped you before, I believe.”

  His voice was low and thick, like sweet molasses. “Before, no. That’s always been with girls I don’t care about.”

  His lips pressed forward as she stroked the length of his cock. “Aren’t I one of the girls you don’t care about?”

  “No.” He held her waist. Pulled her closer. His eyes smoldered down at her.

  “Tell me,” she said, her voice barely more than a whisper, “how does the one-time-deal thing work?”

  He blinked. “Well, it’s once, and that’s how it is.”

  “But does that mean once per part?”

  “What do you mean, ‘part’?”

  “Does it mean you’ll never suck my tits again?” His eyes flashed, and his cock throbbed hard in her hand. “Never squeeze my ass?” It lengthened as she ran her hand down the trunk to the hilt of it.

  She looked down the swelling ridges of his magnificent pecs and back up to his strong jaw and his mouth. Moistened her lips again.

  “Will you never explore me again with your tongue?” She ran her palm over the bulb and it poked her hand. “Or will you only do it if we sixty-nine?”

  The pulse jumped and strengthened, and it was ridiculously hot. Agostini slid his hand over her ass and began to squeeze. She leaned her cheek on his chest and looked up at him.

  “See,” she breathed, “we already did that.” And she pulled gently down his length as the nails of the fingers of her other hand scraped down the front of his abs. She stopped at his belt.

  Slipping her hand slowly down, along the whole length of him, she cupped and squeezed his balls. “Guess I should be paying close attention, if I only get to do this once, right?”

  He drew his lips between his teeth.

  “Do we get to kiss at each stage, or are we done with that now?” The heat between her legs was unbearable, and it was impossible for her to keep her pelvis still as she gripped his pulsing shaft. Agostini squeezed her ass again as she pressed closer to him.

  “Do I only get to swallow your cock once?” She put her wet mouth to his chest, dampening his shirt as she spoke. “Or can I do it from a few different angles?”

  Her swelling breasts were crushed against him. His breathing deepened. “See,” she said, “I’d love to stroke your cock now. Maybe lick it. I’m sure it tastes good.” She flicked her eyes up to his face, then back to the urging probe in his pants.

  “I could slide my lips around it, slip it into my warm, wet mouth, along my waiting tongue. Suck along the thick, living shaft…” She stroked her fingers down her neck. “…and pop it into my throat. Let all my eager, wet muscles pull and squeeze on it until it bursts in my mouth, hot, sweet juice slathering my tongue.” Princess closed her eyes and sighed as she squeezed her breasts.

  Then she looked back up at him. “But if I only get to do it once, then now would be a waste, wouldn’t it? With everybody here. Having to be still. And furtive.” She squeezed as she rubbed him a little harder. “We would have to hurry.” She panted as she licked her lips. “That can be nice for a thrill. An exciting dash, something on the side, in an alley or on a national monument.” She brushed her lips against his shirt then turned her head to rub her head against his chest, down his abs. She breathed on him as she straightened back up.

  Then she pouted. “But it’s an awful choice if it’s the one-and-only, never-to-be-repeated, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it show.” She nuzzled her cheek against his stomach. “Don’t you agree?” She licked her ruby lips and then let them peel apart, slowly.

  She pressed his cock, pushed it so it was up against his body. It hiked the fabric of his pants up and poked in front of his belt. The material was stretched tight. That must have been uncomfortable for him.