by Bella Rose
Chapter Twenty-Five
Anya
I leaned in close to Vasily’s side and stood on tiptoe to whisper in his ear. “This receiving line is taking forever! Tell me again why we have to stand here?”
“Because our men are swearing their loyalty.” His lips barely moved when he talked.
I fought back a giggle. I felt a little punch-drunk. And why shouldn’t I be? I’d just gotten married. I had committed my life to Vasily’s and promised to love him forever. Well, that or until the next crazy adventure killed us. Whichever came first, right?
Daisy bounded up to me, looking pretty as a picture. She was beaming. “It was beautiful! And planned in just three months! You should offer a service or something.”
“I should,” I agreed. Leaning in, I wrapped her in a warm hug. I did not add that the reason we’d had to wait three months was so the wounds healed enough for either of us to be fit enough to walk down the aisle. Otherwise, I would have married Vasily the day after my father’s suicide.
Daisy pulled back, giving sideways glances to all the Romanov men milling about. “Who are all the beefcakes? Seriously. You’ve got the hottest wedding guests in the city.”
“These are—employees,” I told her with a wink. “You know how it is.”
“And can I just say how glad I am that you’ve decided to keep teaching?” Daisy gushed. I loved my friend, but she’d always been a tad on the dramatic side. “There is no way I could handle being at school every day without you.”
“I love teaching.”
Daisy bumped my shoulder. “As long as you don’t have to teach a unit on organized crime.”
I snorted. Her campy twisted sense of humor had been invaluable in the last three months as I recovered from my father’s death and the mess that Antonin had left behind.
“So.” Daisy sent a meaningful glance toward Vasily. “Is there a reason why the two of you didn’t plan a reception?”
“I would think that was obvious enough,” I said with a deliberate shrug. “We’ve got better things to do.”
“I bet you do.” Daisy gave a suggestive wiggle of her eyebrows.
Vasily grabbed my hand and began tugging me away from the remaining guests. “Speaking of. We have someplace else to be.”
There was a whoop from the crowd. The noise was so loud that my ears crackled. I was giddy and excited, and I could not wait to start the next portion of my life. I held tight to my new husband’s hand as we made a mad dash out the front doors of the church. The cool breeze hit my cheeks and made my eyes water. I felt so alive! There was a scent of snow in the air, and I imagined what it would be like to take a walk with Vasily in the snow. We would kiss as it swirled around us like in some kind of fairy tale.
Yeah. I was totally dreaming now. If there ever were such a moment, it would probably involve a car chase and a few explosions, because that was our life.
There was a big long car waiting at the curb. The driver had already opened the back door. Vasily and I piled inside. He seemed almost carefree. It was so unlike the cocky assassin with the kick-ass-and-take-names attitude. I loved this softer side of him. It didn’t come out often, but maybe this was the perfect time for it to happen.
As soon as the door closed, I climbed into his lap. I had to gather the skirt of my wedding dress, but I didn’t care if it wrinkled. I didn’t care if I tore the damn thing off. I was done getting married. I wanted to hurry up and be married.
Vasily cupped my face in his palms. “Did you wear panties?”
“Hell no.”
He was smiling, but that no longer mattered. I devoured his lips in a kiss. I could not get enough. I had to be closer. I had to have him inside me. Still kissing him, I groped at his waist for his belt. My fingers fumbled with the task, and I finally made a frustrated noise.
His dark laugh excited me even as he opened his slacks and pulled his cock free of his fly. “Is this what you want, my love?”
“Please,” I begged. “Oh please?”
My thighs were trembling, and I could feel the ache between my legs beginning to grow out of control. I needed his thick cock spreading me wide. I needed to feel him penetrate my body. I wanted to be his in this most basic way.
“Grab the bars up top.”
I did not argue. I obeyed. Vasily was not the kind of man to be denied. I reached overhead and took hold of the handles bolted to the roof of the limo. Perhaps they had been installed for rough rides. Maybe they’d been put there for exactly this reason. I was past even caring.
Vasily
I think I had thought that I would wait to fuck my wife. I would take her to the hotel and let her enjoy the champagne and the fireplace. Perhaps we would take a bath in the huge Jacuzzi tub and go slowly.
I was mad to believe that was possible. I could not wait another second for this woman. Even once I’d had her, I would want her again and again. I could not get enough. Her body was mine, and I wanted to enjoy it as many times as I possibly could in one lifetime.
To see her stretched out on top of me was erotic beyond belief. The low neck of her bodice left an enticing view of her creamy breasts for my pleasure. Her skirts were thrown up, and the sexy white stockings barely hit her midthigh. The bare expanse of flesh was too tempting.
I put my palms on her legs and gave a squeeze. I loved the resiliency of her flesh. She was warm and vital against me. My cock was throbbing. I grabbed my shaft and squeezed just to keep from losing my damn mind. I was going to come as soon as I breeched her softness. I knew this already. I didn’t care. But making her come was my priority. And as I spread her soft cleft open, it was the only thing I could think about.
The pink flesh of her pussy was so wet with her creamy juices that my fingers made an erotic sound when they touched her. She moaned, jerking a little as she tried to remain still. I spread her outer lips and gently stroked the softer inner lips. Her clit was swollen, the hood spreading wide for me as I probed her with my fingers. She was so ready to come. I could feel her climax in the tightness of her muscles and hear it in her ragged breathing.
“Do you want to come?” It gave me such a fucking rush to have control over her orgasms. This was what I wanted. It was what I had needed my whole life.
“Yes. Please may I?”
“Come for me, Anya. Give me your pleasure.”
The words had barely left my lips before she started convulsing. She came so pretty for me. I watched in awe as her belly trembled. My fingers pressed into her clit, and I could feel every single muscle contraction in her body. The intensity made me want to roar with satisfaction. This was my woman. My wife. She was coming for me, and I could no longer wait to be inside her.
I grasped my cock and held myself as steady as I could with hands that shook. I wanted this so badly I was almost insane with the waiting. I gazed up at her. There had never been a more perfect sight. Her white teeth were clamped down on her full lower lip. Her eyes were closed, and the expression on her face showed the purest pleasure. I wanted to share that with her, and I wanted it bad.
“Lower yourself. I need to be inside you, Anya.” The sound of my voice was shocking. It was so low and so gravelly. The tone of it was almost harsh in my ears.
Her eyes opened then. She looked down at me, and I felt her pussy brush my cock. She went so slowly I thought I would lose my damn mind. The heat and the friction were unbearable. It was killing me, and I loved it. I wanted to die this way a thousand times and come back again. Each inch of her tight pussy clamped down on my cock until I felt the head brush the sweet spot so deep inside her body. It was fucking heaven.
I held her hips in my hands and tightened my fingers as much as I dared. I forced her to follow my lead, to let me set the pace. She moved her hands from the ceiling to my shoulders. I loved the way she touched me. There was something possessive in it. The primal urge to mark this woman, to give her my seed—it overcame me.
Sweat beaded on my forehead. My hands were damp against her skin. We
panted and moaned and fucked, and it was raw and perfect. Then I felt it. The burn of my climax at the base of my spine was like liquid fire in my veins. I struggled to hold myself back, but I couldn’t do it. The need to come was primal, almost brutal.
“Come with me,” I snarled at her. “Come with me and make it good.”
She whimpered and moaned, and then I felt that perfect moment where her inner muscles clenched tight around my shaft. It was hot and tight and oh so wet. There was nothing quite so perfect in the world as that sensation. And it was mine. Forever.
She came hard and I could not hold back one second longer. Every muscle in my back was strung tight. I pulled her as close to my cock as possible and felt her tremble and shake. I thrust upward, impaling her as deeply as I could. The spray of my cum was hot and immediate. I took her the way a beast would take its mate. It didn’t matter because she was mine.
When the maelstrom was over, she collapsed against my chest. I’d never been tender with a lover before. This wasn’t just a lover. She was everything. I wrapped my arms around her and felt the weight of her against my chest.
“I love you,” she murmured. “But you’d better give me what I want when we get to that hotel.”
“Which is?” I teased.
“I want silk rope and a spanking.” She nuzzled my neck and giggled like a wild woman.
Had any order ever been so perfect? “I think I can come up with something.”
She wriggled a little, moving her bottom and squeezing my cock with her inner muscles until I felt another surge of desire. “I think you can come up with a lot of things.”
She was so perfect for me. I could only hope that I was just as perfect for her. “Are you sure this is what you want?” The words slipped out, but once they were out I was glad.
Anya touched my face and kissed my nose. “It’s what I want. I always thought I had to keep the two parts of my life separate. But that isn’t true. You’re everything I want and more than I need. I can still have my job, but I want you and that means accepting my past as well as my future.”
“Such a brilliant woman,” I murmured.
The past was the past and the future was before us, but if we couldn’t reconcile one with the other we would always be damned. Like Antonin. Like Boris. But Anya and I? We were going to be everything because we were together.
THE END
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Stolen by the Mob Boss
By Bella Rose
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Stolen by the Mob Boss
By Bella Rose
All Rights Reserved. Copyright 2016-2017 Bella Rose.
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Chapter One
Blair Edwards focused on her preflight checklist. The rhythm of the hangar at Skye Aviation headquarters in New York provided a pleasing backdrop as she performed her duties.
She checked her watch. She was glad to see that they were well within the time needed to have an on-time departure. Today’s client was Mikhail Romanov. Blair had never met him before, but he had a reputation around the company for being serious as the grave with no tolerance for disruptions to his schedule.
“Hey, girl!”
Blair looked up to see her single crewmember grinning from ear to ear. Ethan was flamboyantly gay and one of Blair’s favorite people in the whole world. “Hey, you!” She gave him a warm smile. “Did you have a fun time out last night?”
“Oh my God! You should have come with us,” Ethan gushed. He dramatically flopped against the side of the cockpit door.
Ethan was probably one of the only people alive who could make the Skye Aviation uniform of navy slacks and white button-down shirt look good. Of course, Ethan had added a jaunty beret on his blond head, and his trim figure tended to look good in anything. Blair felt dowdy and boring next to her friend.
“Did you hear about that flight yesterday?” Ethan stage-whispered. “You know, the one with that pop singer?”
Blair laughed. “You mean hypothetically since Skye Aviation has the strictest confidentiality policy ever?”
“Yes, exactly!” Ethan waggled his eyebrows.
“I’m glad that wasn’t my plane,” Blair said. “I far prefer the uptight business people to the rowdy entertainers.”
“You would!” Ethan sighed. “We have got to pull you out of that shell you’re determined to hide in. Who knows? Maybe we’ll find some handsome businessman who will fall hopelessly in love with you. He’ll whisk you off to your happily ever after and I’ll still be stuck here.”
“I had better not catch you trying to play matchmaker with our clients.” She wagged a finger in his face.
“Hardly. The company keeps such a tight hold on the clients’ private info. I doubt I could even get a phone number.”
The two of them giggled until Blair glanced at her watch and realized she had to get a move on. “It doesn’t matter what our clients do or who they are as long as the color of their money is right. That’s the company policy.”
“It’s going to bite us in the ass someday, just you watch,” Ethan predicated darkly. “Just look at our passenger today.”
“Perhaps I can give you a closer look if you’re wanting an inspection.”
The low male voice made the hair on the back of Blair’s neck stand on end. Beside her, Ethan froze. His face turned ruddy with a blush as he turned to face Mikhail Romanov. Romanov was leaning casually against the open doorway that led to the stairs and the tarmac below. The known Russian mobster stood well over six feet tall and looked as though he was descended from multiple generations of athletes. His shoulders were broad, his chest wide, and his abdomen taut beneath the dark blue dress shirt.
Still, it wasn’t just his physical appearance that gave her pause. The look in his dark eyes was almost feral. His gaze raked over Ethan and dismissed him almost immediately, yet when he turned to look at Blair she felt as though he had stripped off every stitch of clothing on her body.
His eyes smoldered. She watched his shoulders rise and fall as he took in air and wondered why it suddenly felt as though they had experienced a drop in cabin pressure. The corner of his sensual mouth turned up and she actually felt herself blush. It wasn’t a smile. It couldn’t be called something as tame as that. Then she dropped her gaze, unable to hold his any longer. She felt him look at her breasts and wanted to challenge such a bold action, but couldn’t even muster up the gumption to speak.
The scent of him wafted across the small space and she felt her insides quiver as she inhaled the blend of spicy sandalwood and mint. There was something else beneath those tame smells, though. This man sweated alpha pheromones as though he could command any room he entered if he chose.
Beside her, she heard Ethan squeak. No doubt her friend was about to swoon. Blair mustered up her composure. She was the pilot of this craft, dammit. This was not the time to act like a girl discovering boys for the first time.
Blair cleared her throat. “We mean no disrespect, Mr. Romanov. My colleague and I were just discussing the importance of the Skye Aviation confidentiality policy.”
“I see,” he murmured. Romanov seemed either unconcerned or uninterested. It was difficult to tell which it might be. He pushed away from the doorframe and headed toward the back of the plane. “My bags are at the bottom of the stairs, if you wouldn’t mind?”
He turned without another word and made his way into the main cabin. Blair saw him sit down and settle into the desk area. His shoulders were so broad that he had to wedge himself into the seat. Once he seemed satisfied, he leaned back and folded his hands across his belly. He appeared to be going to sleep. Apparent
ly she and Ethan had been forgotten, which was just as well.
“Get his bags,” Blair muttered. “I’m going to finish my preflight so we can get this bird off the ground.”
“Got it.” Ethan didn’t have to be told twice.
Blair returned to the cockpit and tried to breathe normally. Her heart was slamming against her ribs and she felt a strange tingling in her skin as though she had experienced an electric shock of some kind. Of course, meeting Mikhail Romanov would absolutely qualify as a shock. She took her seat at the controls and squirmed a little. Her panties were wet. Pursing her lips, she tried to convince herself that having a man look at her as though he wanted to unwrap what he saw and eat it bite by bite was not a reason to become aroused. Unfortunately, her swollen, achy sex suggested a different story altogether. Romanov was dangerous, if only because he challenged her self-control.
***
Mikhail had to bite back a smile as he thought about the pretty little pilot’s look of horror when she had realized her gossiping had been found out. He couldn’t recall ever having flown with her at the helm before. The Bratva—the Russian crime organization on US soil—used Skye Aviation for most of their domestic and even some international flights. With branches in five different American cities, there was a lot of travelling going on.
Mikhail’s phone rang. He would have ignored it, but it was his youngest brother, Ivan. “Da?” Mikhail kept his tone clipped and spoke in Russian. “I’m on the plane, headed to Chicago. Can this wait?”
“No.” Ivan sounded dire, even for Ivan. And the youngest Romanov was known around the Bratva as the doomsday guy. “You’ve been ratted out by an informant within the FBI.”
“Who?” Mikhail felt his mood blackening. This was the last thing he needed. “Do you know who this mole is?”
“No, but it has to be someone who plays both sides.” There was a sound of keys clicking on Ivan’s laptop. The man never went anywhere without a computer. “You have to get control of the plane.”