by A. Zavarelli
I don’t know if it’s a command or a plea. So my honesty comes out again.
“You already do.”
I jerk in his arms and his fingers move inside of me again. The party is still happening downstairs, but Alexei doesn’t care. He takes his time. He doesn’t allow my fucked up needs to hinder our progress, and he gives me exactly what I require. He nurtures my desire for pain by pulling my hair and dragging his teeth down my throat before sinking them into my shoulder. And when I relax in his arms, he heaves me up and sets me on the desk, tearing my panties away and splaying my legs apart. He holds my thighs beneath his palms, scooting me to the edge of the desk so that my ass hangs off.
I’m on display for him. Lewd and dirty. My dress bunched around my waist, my breasts on display and my legs spread wide. I wonder if he likes me like this. Filthy and wrong.
I don’t have to wonder for long. He reaches for the cognac on his desk and opens it, pouring it down the front of my body and wetting my skin and my dress. My back arches and the liquid warms my skin as it slides down between my spread legs.
Alexei chases the liquid with his tongue, drinking it from my flesh. And yet I’m the one who is drunk off the combination. But there is still that part of me that feels the deep chasm of shame. He knows it, but he doesn’t let me give in to it.
His eyes meet mine before he leans forward and buries his face in the exposed part of me. He eats me out on his desk. On top of his paperwork and while his guests are downstairs. He fucks me with his tongue and grunts out his approval as he devours me.
And there isn’t anywhere else I could take my mind right now if I tried. He is the only place I want to be. In this moment. Watching him ruin me. Feeling the brutality of his grip on my ass, bruising my flesh and imprinting his mark on the deepest level of my psyche. The place where all of my fears and needs collide.
I come hard for him. And still, he doesn’t stop. Until I beg him to be inside of me.
And then he’s pulling me back into his lap. Freeing his zipper with his fingers and yanking my hand down in his to touch him. He wants me to need this. To need him. It must be his own fear that blinds him from seeing that his control over me is absolute. And that I do need it from him.
I leave no question in his mind. I cup the hot bulge beneath his briefs and run my fingers along his shaft. His eyes never leave mine. Only when I free his cock completely and shift my hips to push him inside of me, do his eyes close briefly.
Once he’s fully rooted, he grabs my face and forces me to look at him again.
“Mine.”
Then he’s fucking me. Using me. And thoroughly enjoying it. His hands guide my hips, and his lips sear my skin. Everywhere. He’s kissing me everywhere. Sucking on me. Tasting me. Breathing his fire into me.
His brand of fucking is more intense than any other I’ve ever experienced. His eyes never leave my face. Watching for every slight tremble. It’s intimate, and raw… being face to face like this. Skin to skin. Every time he gets close, he pauses or stops altogether just to kiss me. To touch me. To draw it out and soak as much pleasure as he can from the act itself. It scares me and sends a thrill through me.
And I feel like I need to ruin it.
“Do you like fucking your filthy whore wife?” I ask him.
He smiles up at me, and his cock swells inside of me. “I love fucking my wife,” he answers.
He thrusts up inside of me harder, harder. “Now tell me how much you love it too.”
“I like it,” I admit.
“Do you like calling yourself a whore?” he asks. “Do you like to be degraded, my little Solnyshko?”
“Yes,” I answer him honestly.
From him. I want that. I need it. To give myself permission to enjoy it. To let my mind be free.
“Then tell me you’re my whore,” he demands. “And the only thing you’re good for is pleasing me.”
“I’m your whore.” I lean back against the desk so that my body is on display for him. “And the only thing I’m good for is pleasing you.”
His lips find my ear, and the sounds of his ragged approval vibrates against my skin.
“Now tell me thank you,” he demands. “For what I’m about to give you.”
“What?” I ask.
He thrusts as deep as he can go and comes on an agonized groan, spilling himself inside of me. Only when his cock is empty and I am sagging against him do his lips find my ear and he answers.
“A baby.”
23
Alexei
It is late when I get to the city.
Normally, Franco drives me. But now that Talia is at the house, I feel his services are best required there. Against his protests, I have driven myself to Slainte.
I needed this meeting to take place on the Irish’s home ground. The lies are prepared to slip from my tongue when I greet Lachlan in the office. The way they have been ever since I brought Talia into my life.
He will have no choice but to understand. His alliance with the Vory will not be strained by one girl. I know this. And I am taking full advantage of it.
“Alexei.” He shakes my hand as a sign of respect and then pours me a glass of cognac.
When he sits down across from me, we both make the usual toasts. And then the business begins.
“You have word on Mack’s friend?”
“I do.”
I finish the glass and meet his gaze.
“There is… a complication.”
Lachlan frowns. “What sort of complication?”
“She was purchased by Arman Kassabian.”
“I see.”
I let the information settle on him. Arman is the Bulgarian weapons dealer that keeps a sizeable chunk of the global market in business. He also happens to be the supplier of the Irish and the Vory. It is a profitable business relationship to all of us. Lachlan will not start a war over one girl, or even lose his arms supply over one girl. This is just a fact of the mafia business. The steady supply of arms is the lifeblood of the Irish syndicate.
In the end, this is how I know the choice he will make. His loyalty is to his brotherhood. To the well-being of the organization. And a leader must always choose the organization over all else.
Lachlan knows me fairly well. As well as I allow anyone to. He is aware of my defect although I am not certain how he caught on to it. And yet, he has never shown me any disrespect or disloyalty. He trusts my judgment and does not question my abilities.
For this reason, I consider him a friend as well as an ally. Our pact makes good business sense, but he is the only one of the Irish I like to deal with.
“Have ye spoken with him?” Lachlan asks. “Is he prepared to part with her for a cost?”
I shake my head and keep my expression neutral. “He has an attachment to her. He is not willing to part with her on a permanent basis.”
“What does that mean?” he demands.
“I have the girl in my possession now.”
His eyes widen and then narrow. “For how long?”
“He parted with her as collateral on a shipment that went missing,” I tell him.
He brushes his hands down his face and leans back in his chair. I can see the thoughts running through his mind. They are the same that initially went through my own. Getting the girl a new identity, sending her somewhere else. Telling Arman I lost my head and she was just a casualty of doing business.
“There is nowhere she will ever be safe from him,” I tell Lachlan. “And even if she were…”
The words drift off, and a part of me feels guilt for speaking of Talia this way.
“Even if she were, what?” Lachlan asks.
“The girl is not in a good state of mind.”
“I didn’t guess she would be,” he replies.
“She can’t be on her own.”
“We can’t send her back to Arman.”
“I have no intention to.”
“Then what?” he asks.
“I have handled the
situation in a way that is best for all concerned parties.”
Lachlan’s agitation is clear when he speaks. “Which is?”
“I have married the girl.”
The room falls silent, and his eyes bore into mine, incredulous. He doesn’t believe me. But he also knows I have never been one to joke. So he waits. And I do also. And after a time, it settles on him. This is serious.
“You married her,” he repeats. “Without consulting me.”
“I don’t generally consult with those who hold no sway in my own decisions.”
“This isn’t just your decision,” he grates. “Did she even want to marry you?”
Inwardly, I flinch.
I know it isn’t a reference to my defect when it comes from Lachlan, but a part of me still believes that is what he is implying.
“I have fulfilled more than what I promised,” I inform him as I stand. “I have retrieved the girl, and I have kept her safe. I have secured a future for her away from Arman. A simple thank you would do.”
Lachlan sighs, and then nods. “Ye’re right. You have my apologies, Alexei. I realize that this is something I can’t ever repay ye for.”
I move to leave, but he stops me.
“But I do have another favor to ask.”
I glance at him and wait.
“Mack needs to know she’s okay,” he says. “She needs to hear it from Talia.”
24
Talia
It snowed this morning.
And I convinced Magda to let me outside to see it. Her answer came only after she received permission from Alexei.
I know he’s watching me from the window above. I saw his face when I laid down on the ground.
“Miss Talia,” Magda chides me, but I ignore her.
I stare up at the sky and let the flakes fall onto my skin, even catching a few on my tongue. My arms and legs move to the sides, making a perfect snow angel. And then I get up and repeat the process four more times. When I am on my fifth, I open my eyes to meet ice cold blue.
Alexei.
“You made one too many,” he remarks, as if he knows anything about my mind.
“No, it’s exactly right.”
His face hardens and he does not try to hide his disdain for my attitude. He has barely spoken to me since he fucked me two nights ago. Since he told me the worst thing he could have said to someone like me.
No, not even someone like me. Just me.
I’m as insane as my own mother was. I cannot be a mother. I will destroy everything I love. Just like she did.
I am poison.
I told Alexei as much in my panicked state. He disregarded it entirely. Instead, he kissed me and dressed me and brought me back down to the party, filled with his come and looking more like the girl who first arrived than the one who was supposed to be his wife.
The sight did nothing to sway Katya’s determination. In fact, it only seemed to strengthen it. She is not willing to give him up, married or not.
Again, I wonder why he is not with her. He clearly loved her. She wanted to be his wife. Probably would have bore his children. And she is not nearly half as insane as I am.
When I look up at him now, hovering above me I almost tell him so. That he should rethink what he has done. But I can’t bring myself to say the words.
It’s just as well, because he stoops down to gather my chilled body into his arms, carrying me like a child back inside the house. I cling to him, letting his warmth surround me as he carries me up the stairs. He takes me straight into my bathroom and sets me on the counter, undressing me.
He walks to the shower and turns it on, testing the water on his palm while I watch. His head reaches above the glass doors, and I wonder what his own shower looks like.
“How tall are you?” I ask when he comes back to retrieve me.
He lifts me back into his arms and watches me while he speaks.
“Six feet six,” he replies.
I nod, because it was close to what I had guessed. I only stand at five foot three, so there is always a large gap between us when I look up at him.
He takes me to the shower and sets me inside, and I stand beneath the hot spray, letting it soak into my muscles. After a few moments, the door opens again, and Alexei is behind me. Naked. Pulling my body into his while he kisses my neck.
Without further delay, one of his hands comes around my front and slides down my stomach, dipping between my thighs.
“I’m going to fuck you,” he tells me.
“Okay.”
“But first I want to play with you. Bend over and grab your ankles.”
It isn’t easy, but I do as he asks. And it feels vulnerable, in this position. Having his eyes on the most intimate part of me. His touch is soft at first. Feeling the wetness already between my legs from being in his proximity.
Always wet for him. Like the whore I like to tell him I am.
“You like it when I play with you like a toy?” he asks.
“Yes.”
“I like it too,” he tells me.
And then he spanks me. Three times on each side. So hard he has to grab my wrists to keep me from falling forward.
When he’s done, he pulls me back into a standing position and slips his fingers between my parted thighs again. Testing my response to him. I’m alive for him. Ready for anything else he wants to give me.
He pulls my hand behind me to wrap it around his cock. And I’m stroking him while he fingers me. Neither of us facing each other. I am glad. Because right now, I don’t want him to see the things he can see so well.
How scared I am. How vulnerable I feel. How the war raging on in my mind tells me I need more pain. Anything to escape the other feelings building inside of me. The feeling of trust and comfort and safety when I’m in his arms. They aren’t real. They are like sand, always shifting beneath me.
“Please,” I whisper, but I know he can’t hear me.
Alexei doesn’t need to hear me though. He knows me. Too well. I don’t know how that’s possible, but it’s true.
He grabs hold of my hair in his fist and pulls my head back in a forceful grip so that I have to meet his gaze while his other hand moves up to pinch my nipple. I hiss and jerk against him and he repeats the process on the other side.
“You need to do better,” he tells me. “I cannot always give you pain, my sweet. I don’t want to spoil you.”
Even as he says the words, I know he’s a liar. He would give me anything that I asked for. So long as he is in control of it. He likes to control me just as much as I like him to.
He resumes his previous activities of fingering me while he kisses all over my shoulder and back while he holds me in place. I lean my head back against his shoulder and watch him watching me. His cock is sandwiched between my ass cheeks, hard and ready for me. His other hand is on my breast, kneading it before he reaches around to suck on it.
I come for him.
It doesn’t even take me long this time. When my eyes open again, I meet his.
“What are you thinking about right now?” he asks.
“I’m wondering if you had my IUD removed,” I give him an honest answer, and his reply is the same.
“I did.”
“And I’m wondering if you’re going to come inside of me again.”
“I am.”
“I can’t get pregnant,” I tell him.
“You will.”
And that’s the end of the conversation. Because now I’m pressed back up against the shower wall, my hips in his hands as he pushes his cock inside of me.
He lowers his head to within an inch of mine and hovers there, his eyes burning into mine.
“Mine.”
“Yours,” I whisper.
“Kiss me,” he demands.
I do. I reach up and wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him. His tongue invades my mouth and seizes mine while his hips move in time to the masculine grunts erupting from his throat.
I wonder if he can hea
r them. Hear any of this.
When I come up for air, I find his right ear with my lips. And I kiss him there, and then stay, so he can hear my sounds. So he can hear what little I have to give him.
He swells inside of me. He’s about to come. So he pauses again. Just sliding in and out of me in the slowest way.
His voice is thick and rough when he speaks. “Talk to me,” he murmurs into my hair. “I want to hear your voice.”
It’s a vulnerable request for him. And I respect him for it.
I bring my lips closer to his ear, kissing him and then asking a vulnerable question of my own.
“Do you like your women insane?”
He pulls back just enough for me to see the smile on his face.
“Obviously,” he replies.
And then he kisses me again.
“I like your insanity,” I tell him. “And I like the way you fuck me. I like the way you make it all go away.”
He pauses mid thrust and comes hard inside of me. Filling me once again. I close my eyes and shudder, terrified and… something else I can’t explain.
When he moves back to stare at me, his expression is relaxed and determined.
“I’m going to fuck you every day.”
He grabs my face and kisses me hard.
“And you won’t ever remember anything else.”
25
Talia
I expect him to leave me when he’s done with me.
Because Alexei has his own issues. He tells me he won’t love me. And I believe him. He will always keep me at arm’s length.
Fucking me and loving me are two different things.
He loved Katya. And now he will never want to love anyone else again. Because she poisoned him somehow. And I can’t fix him, just as he can’t fix me.
We really are alike.
I watch him as he rifles through my closet. Through the racks of designer clothing that I haven’t so much as touched. He’s wearing nothing but his trousers, his back muscles stretching and expanding with every movement. His tattoos on full display.