Novak

by Suzanne Steele

  I know my boss has no intention of letting her get away from him. As if that wasn’t enough, there is also the issue of the diary. I’m certain he will keep Katrina on a short leash and judging by the fire I see in her eyes, he is going to have his hands full doing it.

  Chapter Eight

  Novak

  I watch as she runs her hands over the sequins on the jacket. I know it isn’t something she would have normally picked out for herself, but it was purchased from a high-end boutique, and I like it which is all that matters. The bright colors will cause her to stand out in the crowd, but in a tasteful, classy way.

  What she doesn’t realize is that in dressing her, I am ensuring that her mind stays focused solely on me, and that is exactly what I want.

  I know what every good Dominant, Alpha male knows… once you conquer a woman’s mind, you are always with her, whether you are there in body or not.

  I stand and lean against the doorframe, eyeing Katrina as she runs her hands over the jacket again. Yes, little one, your mind will remain on me.

  She turns, unaware that I’m standing there, and jumps a little which only serves to embarrass her.

  “Don’t do that,” she hisses.

  I chuckle, I’m well aware to what she’s referring.

  “It’s not funny, Carl, it’s rude to lurk around corners and spy on people.”

  I make my way over to her, standing well within her personal space. I stare into her with ice cold, blue eyes and say, “It’s rude to come into to a man’s home and tell him what to do, is it not?”

  I bend down close to her, breathing deep as I take her come fuck me scent in, and I softly run my lips over her neck. I whisper, “I asked you a question, Katrina.”

  “I don’t know. Stop it.”

  “You don’t know what, Katrina?” I ask as I lightly nibble up and down the side of her neck.

  “Please stop. I’m begging you, please. Please stop doing this to me. Please.”

  “Please give me back my diary,” I softly reply as I clamp my teeth down into her neck just hard enough to make her heart start racing.

  She cries out, but it is more of a weak whimper.

  “It makes my cock hard when I hear those feeble little sounds come out of your mouth.”

  “It is time to go, Katrina,” I state. I then take my arm and whisk her away as if nothing has even happened.

  Chapter Nine

  Katrina

  “Well, where in the world do you get your ideas for your romance novels, Katrina?” the Mayor’s wife’s voice rings out.

  “Yes, Katrina, please do tell,” Carl says as he slyly eyes me.

  If Carl Sims thinks he is going to put me on the spot and I’m not going to be able to deal with it, he has me pegged wrong. This is right up my alley.

  “Well, I draw my inspiration from various sources. Sometimes it just falls into my lap,” I taunt him.

  At that point I direct my attention back to the Mayor’s wife. “Many times I get ideas working out. One thing is for sure, my imagination stays in overdrive.”

  That is enough to pacify the table and they go back to chattering amongst themselves.

  “Yes, Katrina, we will have to put that imagination of yours to use later,” Novak leans in to whisper.

  I really try to ignore the man next to me and it would be much easier if it didn’t feel like I’m sitting next to an electrical surge. The man literally radiates intensity.

  I’m silent as we ride in the car while the man sitting next me speaks Russian to his driver.

  I can hear the rocks beneath the tires as he pulls into an alley and Novak makes his way up to three men, one of whom is being held against the wall by the other two.

  I can hear the man begging Novak; something about more time is all that I can make out.

  He swiftly turns on the heel of his Italian leather shoes and makes his way back to the car.

  As we slowly make our way back out of the alley, he rolls his window down and speaks to the two men, “I said the hospital, not dead.”

  At that point, he pins me into the seat and grabs a handful of hair at the nape of my neck, “I want my diary back, Katrina, and if you ever reveal anything about me to anyone, you will not live to regret it. Yes, Katrina, I said that correctly!”

  I squirm as my voice screeches out, “You can’t just leave that man back there. They’ll kill him!”

  “No, Katrina, they won’t. Some people understand how to follow instructions… unlike you,” he growls in my ear.

  I inch my hand towards the door handle. Bad neighborhoods don’t scare me. I had grown up all over the world and there isn’t a whole lot that I have not witnessed in my lifetime. Right now, getting out of this car is my number one priority.

  “I wouldn’t do that,” he growls as he wraps his fist tighter in my hair.

  I don’t know why I said it, but it came out of my mouth, “I’ll be good.”

  “Good girl,” he swoons, “that’s a good girl.”

  Chapter Ten

  Novak

  I look down at my prey lying spread eagle before me. I tied her up that way for a reason.

  I sit at the edge of the bed and I begin to read a passage from Katrina’s book:

  “I eyed my helpless, little victim who lied in my bed, vulnerable and restrained. I subdued her with rope and placed a large ball gag between her pristine, red lips.

  I toyed with that girl well into the night, driving her to the brink of insanity.

  She was so beautiful, begging and pleading with her eyes, as she emitted those unintelligible moans from behind that gag.

  I left her restrained, with just enough give to allow her body to thrash around so that I could watch her aimlessly struggle for my pleasure.

  You see… this is one of my favorite things to do. To take an uptight woman and turn her into my slut is exhilarating.

  My most favorite thing to do, though, is to take a defiant, little brat and break her down.

  I love taking a woman who is independent, confident, and doesn’t submit to any other man, and turning her into a devoted slave.

  Yes… I love knowing that a confident, self-made woman submits to no other man, yet she bows at my feet, wearing my collar and hooked to my leash.

  I close the book and look into Katrina’s face as I ask her, “Do you know what plagiarism is, Katrina? Do you think you can steal from me and it is okay?” I raise my brow as if I’m awaiting an answer.

  I make my way to the end of the bed and slyly eye her as I ask one more question. “What do you taste like Katrina?”

  Katrina

  My mind loses focus and I begin to struggle against the ropes. I can’t let this happen. I have to get away from this man who is invading my life.

  He runs his tongue lightly up the inside of my thigh. He continues to taunt me until I suddenly find myself trying to move my body so that his tongue will land where I need it the most. It isn’t taking long for me to learn that it will be Novak’s way or no way, especially in his bedroom.

  It isn’t only in his bedroom either; it is in every area of his life. For the life of me, I can’t understand why the chemistry between us is so intense.

  I begin to struggle harder because everything in me wants to run my hands through that closely cropped, blonde hair of his. I want to grab his head, shove my opening into his face, and force him to lick me.

  He’s making me crazy by licking me everywhere but on my clit. I need contact, I need it badly, and I need it now. “Give me what I want. Please stop tormenting me. I will do anything, anything at all. What do you want from me? What, what, what?”

  My body is moving as if it is doing a dance in the ropes that bind it. It’s like I’ve lost all control over my own movement.

  He is fucking driving me crazy, toying with me, and ignoring my whines that have now turned into begging.

  “Please, why are you are you doing this?”

  “Why am I doing what, Katrina?”

  �
��You know what you are doing!” I shriek.

  He runs his tongue lightly up and down my inner thigh, stops, and then eyes me. “I want my diary, Katrina.”

  He goes back to slowly and methodically running his tongue up and down my now trembling thigh and then around my folds, systematically torturing me with pleasure.

  The bastard brings me right to the edge of orgasm and then stops.

  “I want my diary, Katrina,” he repeats. “If you were a man, I would have Sergei torture you. He is a sadistic man and he enjoys inflicting pain on others. Because you are a woman, I will use pleasure to extract that which I desire from you.”

  “I don’t have the fucking diary!”

  The fear of being at the mercy of a man as dangerous as Carl Sims, who can order my death with only a phone call, is much stronger than my lust will ever be.

  He and I both know that I have that diary but it will be a cold day in hell before I give it to him just so he can have me killed. It’s my insurance policy and without it, I have nothing to guarantee my safety.

  Novak

  I eye my little subdued victim as I undress and I really can’t help but chuckle to myself. I will say one thing; this girl has definitely got tenacity. I’m actually shocked she hasn’t given in and told me where my diary is yet.

  What she doesn’t realize is the more she holds out on me, the more convinced I become that she is a woman I want in my corner. I have to say that with the abilities she has shown to endure my unique brand of torture and not reveal the information I want, I respect this lady. Normally a woman would have given into me and just considered all of this as some game. This is not a game; I don’t play.

  I stare at her as I untie her legs. I’m debating just how I want to deal with her.

  “You look like you want me to fuck you, girl,” I state as I mount her. I lock eyes with her, memorizing every intricate detail of her face.

  “I need you so fucking bad,” she moans as a tear streams down her cheek. I have seen it before—women teased to the point of tears. I have worked her over, bringing her right to point of release only to stop. It becomes a form of torture at a certain point.

  I reach down and lick the tear from her cheek and then I slowly push into her. I have all the time in the world because I plan on fucking her well into the night.

  I will worry about the diary tomorrow. Right now, there is only me and her…

  Chapter Eleven

  Katrina

  My hands literally shake as I remove the diary from my office drawer.

  Carl has forced me to put in my notice at work but that still gives me the next two weeks to figure out what I’m going to do.

  When I woke up this morning and he was gone, I left and let’s just say that I didn’t use the front door to make my exit.

  It’s becoming more and more difficult to get anything past this guy. He watches me all the time and when he can’t because he is out doing whatever it is Russian thugs do, he has Sergei watching me.

  Every time I come up with some way to hide the diary, I think of a reason it won’t work. I really don’t want it at my house, though I have thought of buying a safe to lock it in. He would probably just take the safe and blow it up or something.

  I try to act like I’m not scared of Novak, but I am. No, I’m not scared; I’m fucking terrified. This guy is dangerous and when I took the diary, I didn’t foresee the problems I’m having right now. How could I? No matter what I decide, the fact remains I have major trouble on my hands…

  Agent Turner

  I’m standing over a hospital bed with my partner, Rene. The man I’m looking at had been brought in last night and was literally beaten to a pulp.

  I eye my partner as I speak, “this has Novak’s name all over it. He may have changed his name to Carl Sims but, bottom line, a leopard can’t change his spots!”

  I’ve spent much of my 15 year career following Carl Sims and his cousin, Glazov. I’ve kept a close eye on their criminal operations and escapades but I’ve never been able to get enough evidence to put them away. To say I don’t like them would be a gross understatement.

  Now there is a new twist that will drive me in my pursuit to put Carl behind bars, and that is Katrina. Of course, I don’t have any interest in her personally. My partner/Mistress will kick my ass if she thinks I do and, believe me, once you’ve been subjugated with her form of discipline, you’ll do anything to avoid a repeat performance.

  “I don’t know what he has on that little girl but I have every intention of finding out and putting a stop to it before he ruins her life.” I direct the statement to my partner.

  “Why are you so concerned about her being defiled by a Russian mobster?” Rene queries.

  I need to be careful here and very quick to reassure her that my interest is purely business motivated. “I just don’t want to see anyone who isn’t a criminal be pulled into his world. She deserves more.”

  “That better be the only thing you care about.”

  In my mind, Katrina is Novak’s latest victim and the feelings that I have regarding her and her situation can be chalked up to nothing more than hero syndrome. Mistress has nothing to worry about in the relationship arena. She has me wrapped around her little finger.

  The man in the hospital bed before me begins to stir and, even in his drug induced stupor, he can’t stop the groan that escapes his lips. Despite all the hardcore painkillers he’s been given, it’s obvious the poor man is still in agony.

  “Sir, my name is David Turner and I am with the FBI. Can you tell me who did this to you?”

  “No,” he manages to moan but he’s unable to mask the fear that seems to quickly shudder through his whole body before settling in the depths of his eyes.

  I’m perceptive and there is very little that escapes my radar so his response to my question, nonverbal though it was, doesn’t go unnoticed. Years of working with skilled criminals turned me into a seasoned agent adept at reading people. This guy is afraid—very fucking afraid—and I know exactly who it is he’s scared of…

  Chapter Twelve

  Katrina

  “Katrina, just tell me. Is something wrong?”

  My colleague, Kevin, follows behind my every move and it is becoming more and more of an inconvenience as his chatter morphs into an irritating noise I can no longer block out. My nerves are shot to hell from dealing with Novak because now I’m on a deadline to figure out where to hide this diary so he can’t get his hands on it.

  I swiftly turn on my heel, sticking my finger in his face, and tell him, “You asked me if you could help, I’m letting you. Now back off!”

  “I’m sorry, Katrina,” he whimpers.

  I eye my fellow office worker standing in front of me. He is a meek sort of soul who has developed a crush on me and he really doesn’t mean any harm. A wave of guilt washes over me as the thought hits me that my predicament is no one’s fault but my own.

  “Quit with the questions,” I hiss.

  “Alright, Katrina, just let me help you,” his countenance brightens once he realizes I’m not going to send him away.

  He knows helping me could prove to be a two or three hour venture spending time with me so he immediately calms down. Now that he’s not being so aggravating, I’ll let him stay. Poor guy—I’m the worst person to have a crush on. I’m bossy, impatient, and now I’m indebted to a Russian thug.

  Suddenly, the thought registers that I can’t let Sergei or Novak see me with Kevin. The last thing the poor guy needs is to get the shit kicked out of him because I let him help me move my office. At this point, I’m not quite sure what my self-appointed boyfriend is capable of doing.

  Right now I have one thing on the brain and that is finding somewhere to stash this stupid diary that has gotten me into more shit than I ever could have anticipated. I’m presently thinking a safety deposit box may be my best bet. At least that way, it will be safe under lock and key… I think. Who knows how much pull this guy has? I wouldn’t put it
past him to know how to bypass security in what is supposed to be an inaccessible bank. His criminal knowhow is beyond my sphere of imagination. Why couldn’t I have fucked over a mere businessman? I’m certain I wouldn’t be in this situation had that been the case. Of course, then the story would never have sold as many copies as it had. Hell, it probably wouldn’t have even been published in the first place. Novak’s story is the stuff legends are made of—legends and best sellers.

  Novak

  Sergei is sitting outside of Katrina’s office, out of her view as he speaks with me.

  I breathe in deeply and exhale as I listen to him filling me in on her latest escapade. She never ceases to amaze me on the amount of shit she can stir up in such a short time.

  “Boss, there was someone stationed outside your bedroom door and when the maid knocked to bring her coffee and she did not answer, she called me. After I made certain that she was not in there, I went in and verified her disappearance.”

  Sergei knows of my possessiveness and I’m certain he had no intention of walking in on my woman. I’m sure the last thing Sergei wants is to be on the receiving end of my wrath.

  I’m quiet for the express purpose of Sergei hearing the silence on the other end of the line. He knows me well enough to know that silence is never a good sign. As sadistic as Sergei is, he is still scared of me.

  I listen to Sergei as he informs me that Katrina had slipped out this morning unnoticed. I take a moment to assess the situation before I respond. The silence will do Sergei good.

  After a moment of contemplation, I calmly breathe in and then release the air in my lungs, trying to rid my body of any stress that will cause me to make an unwise decision.

  It is something I have learned through the years. After all, I know that decisions made in haste and under stressful situations, can and will, produce unwanted results.