Scarred: A Russian Mob Romance (Anosov Family Mafia) (Scars and Sins Collection Book 1)

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Scarred: A Russian Mob Romance (Anosov Family Mafia) (Scars and Sins Collection Book 1) Page 15

by Vivian Gray


  Her smile faded to a look of contemplation, and then she reached down and twined her fingers through mine, her small thumb rubbing my knuckles. “Because we couldn’t do this from opposite sides of a plexiglass divider.”

  She moved to pull her hand away, but I squeezed tight, not letting her escape. I looked down at our fingers twisted together and swore that I would never ever let her go. We stayed that way the entire way home.

  Chapter Twenty

  Bailey

  Since we were escorted to the police station in the back of squad cars, Anton and I decided to walk home. We could have called an Uber or even the driver Anton kept on retainer, but the day had been a long one, and something about the excruciatingly early morning air was refreshing. The sky was pitch-black, the city lights blotting out any hope of seeing stars, and the roads were deserted, only the rare car driving past us in a blur of headlights.

  We didn’t talk much as we walked, hands wrapped around one another. Our elbows kept bumping as we lolled along at the same pace, and I smiled up at him every time. Our relationship had progressed so quickly that it felt as though we’d skipped all of the awkward flirting at the beginning, and all of the accidental finger brushes and long, lingering stares. We’d skipped straight to hot balcony sex. Which, while incredible, didn’t allow a lot of time to get to know one another. I was grateful for another opportunity to take things slow.

  The officers at the station had explained that I was tying my proverbial horse to Anton’s if I knew something and didn’t tell them.

  “We’ll find out if you’re lying,” Officer Johnson had said, his tongue dancing over his coffee-stained teeth. “And when we do, you’ll be just as guilty as he is.”

  I’d stayed resolutely silent, except to deny any knowledge. “You have the wrong man. He hasn’t done anything, and neither have I. When can I leave?”

  “We can’t help you if you don’t tell us what you know.”

  I’d stared at him, one eyebrow raised, and crossed my arms. “I know that you have the wrong man. He hasn’t done anything. Neither have I.”

  After repeating the same line over and over, they finally gave up on me and let me go. I sat in front of the precinct for over an hour waiting for Anton, praying he’d come out, praying they wouldn’t find something incriminating in his house.

  When he finally walked through the doors, and I saw him moving towards me, the yellow street lights glinting off his thick black hair, his blue eyes blazing at the sight of me, it felt like a second chance. And I refused to waste it.

  “I don’t have to live with you,” I said, breaking the silence with my declaration. I’d been thinking about our living situation the entire walk as we grew closer and closer to his apartment building. It had taken me two years to finally move in with Brendan, and that had gone horribly. I’d known Anton for one week.

  “We already talked about this. I want you there with me,” Anton said.

  “I know, and I appreciate you saying that, but I’m worried that maybe we are moving too quickly.”

  He stopped walking, pulling on my hand until we were facing one another. “Why?”

  “Because we’ve only known each other for a week.”

  “Okay?” He shrugged his shoulders. “Does that matter?”

  “I don’t know,” I replied truthfully. “Does it?”

  He shook his head, his hair falling onto his forehead. “It doesn’t matter to me. Does it matter to you?”

  That’s what I’d been trying to decide. Part of me worried that we would move too quickly and Anton would realize he’d made a mistake. He would feel like I was encroaching on his bachelor lifestyle and panic, ending things. Whereas, if we had taken things slow, and eased into living together, perhaps our relationship would last. I knew both scenarios were purely hypothetical, but it didn’t stop me from worrying.

  “No,” I said, trying to be honest with myself. And with Anton. “I want to be with you. I like seeing you before bed at night and waking up next to you in the morning. I just don’t want to scare you away.”

  He brought my hand up to his lips and slowly kissed each knuckle, sending waves of pleasure through my hand and up my arm. “The only thing that scares me is the thought of you leaving. I want you here. Please believe me when I tell you that. After tonight, and the way you had my back, I know that I have never trusted anyone the way I trust you. I love you, Bailey.”

  The words took my breath away. I sucked in air, trying to fill my lungs, but my heart was taking up too much space in my chest. It felt as though it was about to burst.

  “I love you, too,” I said.

  I realized then how much I meant it. I’d said the words before – to Brendan and a couple of other guys – but it had always happened because I thought it should. Because it felt like it was about time. But with Anton, there was no logical reason to speak the words. The only reason was because – despite how crazy it seemed – they were absolutely true. I loved him.

  “I’ve never been in a serious relationship before,” he confessed, looking down at the concrete between our feet. “I don’t know if I’ll be any good at it, but I want you to know that I’m sure as hell going to try. I’m going to do my best to be the best damn boyfriend you’ve ever had.”

  “My track record with relationships isn’t amazing, either,” I said, laughing. “For instance, I was bet in a poker game and then smashed my ex-boyfriend over the head with a dumbbell bar. Far from conventional.”

  Anton smiled. “Remind me never to break up with you, then.”

  I wrapped my free arm around his waist and leaned up on my tiptoes to kiss him. “Never break up with me,” I whispered.

  He smiled against my lips. “Deal.”

  His mouth was warm and soft on mine, and somehow, after hours spent in a police interrogation room, he tasted like cinnamon. I ran my tongue across the inside of his mouth, eager for him, and Anton responded immediately. He ran a hand up my spine, stopping at the base of my neck. Then, he tipped me back, deepening the kiss, his other hand gripping my hip, digging into my waist.

  I was utterly lost in him. My hands followed the muscled lines of his biceps and roved down to his forearms, savoring every inch of his chiseled frame while our tongues danced back and forth, finding new ways to get tangled up. He pulled away, and it felt as though I was underwater without any oxygen. I pressed my palms to his neck, trying to bring him back to my mouth.

  “We should get inside before things become indecent,” he said, trailing kisses up my jawline and then down my neck.

  “It’s too far.” I groaned as he sucked on my earlobe, even though his apartment complex was right in front of us.

  “We were already apprehended by the police once tonight. I don’t want to add public nudity to the list of charges.”

  He placed his hand firmly on the small of my back and led me inside. Every step was difficult with the fire raging between my legs. I had never been so turned on in my life. Waiting for the elevator doors to close was torture, but when they finally did, I knew they wouldn’t open again until we were in Anton’s penthouse.

  I lunged at him, and luckily, he was ready to catch me. I wrapped my legs around his waist and threw my arms around his neck, clinging to him as though my life depended on it. Anton planted his hands firmly on my ass, holding me up, but also squeezing and working the soft flesh there. He pulled me against him until our hips were flush with one another, until I felt his excitement moving against me. I threw my head back and bounced against him, giving over entirely to what my body wanted.

  Anton groaned low in the back of his throat. “Fuck.”

  He spun me around, so my back was pressed against the cold metal wall of the elevator, the buttons jabbing into my shoulder blades, probably leaving deep indentations, but I didn’t mind. His chest felt strong and broad against me, and I clawed at the material of his shirt, desperate for more of him.

  For all of him.

  Anton pressed kisses against my jaw,
traveling from my cheekbones down to my chin and then tracing the line of my neck until he disappeared beneath my robe. I’d nearly forgotten I was wearing it – the hotel would undoubtedly charge the theft to Anton’s debit card – but now I was grateful for the limited coverage it provided. For the way the fabric brushed aside without any effort, exposing me to him.

  His tongue ran the length of my collarbone, then he kissed his way back to the center of my chest, his hands moving under the material and over my bare breasts. I planted my feet on the ground and arched my back against him, eager for his touch. For the way his fingers worked my nipples into small pebbles.

  My robe fell to the floor, and the cool metal wall bit at my back, but I ignored it. I was naked except for a pair of white lace panties. Anton pulled back and looked down my body hungrily, his pupils just tiny black pinpricks.

  “You are so beautiful,” he said, nuzzling into my neck, his teeth nipping at my flesh.

  The elevator doors opened, and we practically fell into his penthouse. The room had been turned upside down by the police raid – cushions thrown on the floor, drawers hanging open, piles of clothes and blankets along the walls. They had left no area untouched, and I stood there with my mouth open, taking in the scene.

  Anton moved up behind me, his arms wrapped around my waist, and ran his hands up the inside of my thighs. His fingers drew slow, tortuous circles on my delicate skin.

  “Shouldn’t we clean this up?” I asked, leaning back into him, the back of my head resting on his shoulders.

  He pressed his soft lips to my neck and then whispered in my ear, “It can wait.”

  I opened my mouth to speak but released a long moan instead. He pressed the heel of his palm against my center, massaging me through the lacy material. I already felt myself soaking through the material, and I knew Anton could feel it, too. He could tell how much I wanted him, how much my body needed him.

  My breath was hitched and ragged, coming out in infrequent spurts as he continued to massage me with one hand, the other tracing a line up my stomach and between my breasts. Then, he began to massage each of my breasts. I felt like my body had turned to liquid. And then he bit my earlobe, and I evaporated into a series of moans.

  I bucked my hips softly against his hand, unable to resist grinding into him. Suddenly, Anton was pushing aside the delicate fabric of my panties and all at once, he slid a finger inside of me.

  My back arched and I lifted up onto my tiptoes, but Anton pressed a hand into my lower back, giving himself more leverage, then slid a second finger into me.

  I closed my eyes, handing myself over to the feeling of him inside of me, to the feeling of stretching around him. He was being so gentle, so careful with me. After the day I’d had, I needed this. I needed the reassurance that he was there for me. Aware of my needs. I reached an arm up over my hand and grabbed the back of his neck, trying to find some way to ground myself in the situation.

  Anton slid his fingers in and out of me, slow and gentle, allowing me to feel every centimeter, every tiny movement. I writhed, my back pressed into his body. I felt the length of him hard against my back. Dropping my hand from around his neck, I reached around my back, finding his length and moving gradually up and down, massaging him.

  He groaned in my ear, deep and low. Tingles raced down my spine at the symphony of sensations moving through my body. Anton pleasuring me, me pleasuring him, his breath against my neck, my ear. It was all too much.

  Then, he extended his thumb up and swirled around my clit.

  And I almost collapsed.

  Whatever composure I’d managed to maintain while he had pushed in and out of me completely disintegrated once he touched my center. My legs clenched and released too rapidly for me to stay standing on my own. Anton wrapped his other arm around my waist, pinning me against his chest, to keep me from falling. Then, he circled me again.

  I let out a small yelp.

  “Come for me, baby,” he said, whispering into my hair. “Let me make you feel good.”

  I licked my lips, eager to do what he asked of me. Eager to please him by letting him please me.

  My stomach clenched as he pulsed his fingers in and out of me at a rapid-fire pace, his thumb glancing over my bundle of nerves over and over again. My hips began to buck wildly, my head rolled back and forward and then back again, and I reached back to wrap both my hands around his neck as my body teetered closer and closer to the edge.

  Pleasure built up in my stomach like my own private sun, warm and burning as his hand worked faster and faster. Finally, I tumbled off the ledge. I convulsed, my body shaking in rhythmic waves as pleasure pulsed through my limbs and through my center. I clenched around his fingers over and over again until I wondered whether I’d ever be able to stop.

  When I finally did, I felt spent. A useless ragdoll. Anton spun me around, and I threw my arms around his neck, letting him hug me.

  “Oh, God,” I moaned out, finally able to catch my breath.

  “Do you feel good?” I could hear the smile in his voice. He knew what he’d done to me. He was cocky and for good reason.

  “Yes,” I breathed out, my chest rising and falling rapidly, my heart hammering against my ribcage. “God, yes. I feel good.”

  “I love you,” he whispered, kissing my face – my temples, my eyelids, and my cheeks.

  I loved him, too, of course I did, but I didn’t want to say it this time. I wanted to show him.

  Somehow, finding the strength, I pushed away from him and stood on my own two feet. I slid my hands across his shoulders, pushing his unbuttoned white shirt off his arms and onto the floor. Then, I pulled his undershirt up, and he lifted his arms above his head, letting me pull it off of him. His chest was smooth and tan and perfect. He looked like a model in a cologne ad. I stood back to admire him for a second, and he tilted his head, looking at me curiously.

  “What?” he asked, a small smile pulling at his lips.

  “You’re perfect.” I hadn’t really meant to say the words out loud. They felt embarrassing, for some reason. But I couldn’t lie to him at that moment. He was perfect. Everything about him. The hard muscles beneath his smooth skin, the way his dark hair flopped down into his impossibly blue eyes. He was too good to be true. I ran my fingers down his body just to remind myself that he was real. That the moment we were sharing was actually real. It all felt too good to be true.

  It seemed like he wanted to say something, but I didn’t want to talk anymore. I dropped to my knees in front of him and looked up. Anton’s lips zipped closed and his eyed widened. His bare chest heaved as I ran my hands up the length of his muscled thighs, as I unbuttoned his trousers, as I slipped them down his legs until they were a puddle around his feet. He was straining against his boxer briefs, and as I pulled them down his legs, he sprang out. I still found myself surprised by his length. How did he hide it inside his tight pants?

  He exhaled as I touched him, as if he had been holding his breath and only just realized. I stroked up and down his length, marveling at the way I could control his body with my touch. His abs flexed and released with each pull, and as I leaned forward, lips parted, one of his hands found the back of my head and grabbed a handful of my hair, the other ran slowly down his face, stretching his lips.

  “Let me make you feel good,” I whispered against his cock, my lips brushing his sensitive tip.

  It seemed I may have pushed Anton’s self-control too far because, after that, he pressed himself against my lips and pushed inside my mouth. I didn’t mind though; I meant what I’d said. I wanted him to feel good. I gripped the back of his thighs and opened my mouth wide, letting him have his way. He plunged into my mouth over and over again at a merciless pace, rhythmically, but then he pulled out and leaned forward, his hands on the tops of my shoulders.

  “Fuck,” he groaned out. “That may have felt a little too good.”

  “That’s all right,” I said, pulling on his legs, trying to bring him back to me.


  He resisted and shook his head. “No. I don’t want to come yet.”

  “But I already have,” I argued. “It’s your turn.”

  He picked me up, so I was standing again, and smiled. “There aren’t any rules, Bailey. We can do whatever we want.”

  “Well, what do you want?”

  One of Anton’s eyebrows raised devilishly, and then he scooped me into his arms and whisked me down the hallway. I kicked and laughed all the way to his bedroom. The officers had stripped his bedding during the raid, throwing it in a plushy pile in the corner, and that is where Anton chose to lay me down. The blankets billowed up around me like a ridiculously expensive cloud, and I threw my arms out wide, sinking into them.

  I was still laughing when Anton hooked his fingers around my panties and pulled them off, tossing them over his shoulder. Before I even had time to react, he was on me. His tongue licked my opening and swirled around my center, sending immediate shockwaves of pleasure through me. My legs pulled together, clenching around his ears, but Anton continued. He massaged his hands up my legs, over my hips, and across my stomach until his fingers found the underside of my breasts.

 

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