Scarred_A Russian Mob Romance_Anosov Family Mafia

by Vivian Gray

  “It can be isolating living up here by myself,” he went on. “I know that sounds like a rich man crying about being rich, but it’s true. I like my privacy. I like my life and the luxuries it affords me, but I do often wish I had someone to enjoy it with.”

  I could tell we had ventured into another moment of vulnerability. Anton was telling the truth, but I didn’t know how to respond. It didn’t seem wise to say the thoughts that had come to my mind. That I would be happy to enjoy life with him. That I could be the person who lived with him and shared life with him. I could be there for his triumphs and his failures, for his joy and sorrow, for sickness and health. God, wedding vows? Yeah, I definitely couldn’t say that. He would think I was insane.

  “Why don’t you just win yourself another woman at a poker game?” I joked, trying to push back against the swell in my own heart.

  Anton blinked, as though waking from a dream, and then narrowed his eyes at me. “Are you ever going to move beyond how we first met?”

  No. Never. Absolutely not. Would he move on from being treated like a five-dollar bill someone had found buried in their back pocket? Of course, it hadn’t been Anton’s fault Brendan had traded me. Anton had simply been the person I had directed most of my frustration onto.

  “I have moved on. I was simply offering up a solution to your problem. If I’m not enough to quell your loneliness then perhaps next week’s game you’ll get lucky and win a woman who will fawn over you the way you are accustomed.”

  “I don’t need another woman to fawn over me,” he said, sounding tired.

  I snorted. “Of course, you already have plenty. They are probably programmed into your phone’s contacts. If you want to call one, I can scurry back to my room. I promise, she won’t even know I’m here.”

  “I mean,” he said, running his hand down his face and trailing it through the stubble that dotted his jawline, “I don’t want a woman who will fawn over me. I’d rather have a woman who found fault with every single thing I say and do. Doesn’t that sound delightful?”

  Ouch.

  I raised my hands in surrender. “Clearly we both have our faults. Perhaps we should leave it at that and find something a bit more civil to discuss.”

  Anton leaned forward, his shoulders hunched up around his ears. “How were you ever with Brendan?”

  “That’s not exactly what I had in mind…” I said, squirming in my seat.

  “You don’t seem afraid to hold me accountable for my words or actions, so how could you have let him treat you the way he did?” he asked, ignoring my discomfort.

  I had asked myself the same question every single day I woke up sleeping next to Brendan. Sure, at the end I was mostly using him for room and board, but things had been bad long before I’d been fired. Why I hadn’t run in the opposite direction the first time he hit me, I couldn’t say.

  “I needed the money. And the protection. It was either live with Brendan or on the streets. Which would you prefer?”

  “The streets,” he answered with an easy smile. “You said you lost your job. How?”

  I sighed. “It doesn’t exactly reflect well on my character. And as my boss, I’m sure you’ll regret your decision to hire me.”

  He leaned forward expectantly, and I knew he wouldn’t relent until I told him.

  “I worked as a waitress in a sports bar, and during a shift, a few hundred dollars went missing from the register.”

  Anton leaned back, his face guarded. “You’re a thief?”

  “My boss sure thought so. He accused me of stealing the money, but the buffoon wasn’t smart enough to watch the tapes before trying to fire me. I demanded he watch them, and when he did, he saw it was one of the fry cooks.”

  Anton shook his head. “That doesn’t explain why you lost your job.”

  I already felt my face flushing. I’d lost my job because of my own stupidity. Because of my inability to keep my mouth shut and my temper in check.

  “My boss apologized, but he’d already embarrassed me in front of my coworkers. I couldn’t show up to work every day knowing I worked for a man who thought I was no better than a common thief. Who would always cast sidelong glances at me, wondering whether I was leaving with a little too much tip money or whether I was really emptying all the money from the cash register into the safe.”

  “So, you quit?”

  I shook my head. “I called him a dickless idiot, and he fired me.”

  Anton stared at me for a few seconds and then threw his head back. He shook with laughter. It was the first time I’d seen him do something that didn’t seem premeditated or measured. The sound of his laugh was warm and full, and it drowned out all the sounds from the city below. It wrapped around me, making my heart twinge. I wanted him to laugh like that every day. I wanted to be the one who brought it out of him.

  “It wasn’t very funny at the time,” I said, speaking loudly so he’d be able to hear me.

  He stopped, shook his head, and then continued laughing, unable to hold it in.

  “As my boss, you should be very concerned.”

  Finally, he swallowed his laughter, covering his mouth with his hand, and looked up at me. “If I fired people because they called me names like a ‘dickless idiot’, I never would have hired you, Bailey. If that boss didn’t realize you were a spitfire the moment he met you, he was a dickless idiot.”

  “A spitfire, eh?”

  He nodded, eyes still bright with laughter. “You are clearly not the kind of woman to take it lying down.”

  I quirked a playful eyebrow up at him, leaning forward, so my breasts pressed against the table. “Take what lying down?”

  Suddenly, the light in his eyes faded. His pupils dilated, and his irises darkened. I saw something flash there that scared and invigorated me. He looked hungry.

  Anton stood up slowly, never breaking eye contact as he moved around the table. He extended a hand to me, and before I could think better of it, I accepted it, letting him lift me to my feet. His hand was warm and enveloped mine easily. Until that moment, I hadn’t taken much notice of how big Anton was.

  Suddenly, I had a burning desire to know whether all of him was just as big. He continued moving towards me, forcing me back until my shoulder blades hit the glass railing of the balcony. My hand was still wrapped up in his, and he moved it to his shoulder and dropped it there, leaving his hand free to slide down my waist.

  His touch set me on fire. I felt the heat of him through my dress, and I desperately wanted it inside of me. I wanted him inside of me. But still, I couldn’t move. I couldn’t make my body go after what I wanted. I just stood there, shivering and wanting him.

  He leaned forward until his lips whispered against my jaw, “You’re a fighter, Bailey. I see it in you.”

  I shook my head, unable to find the words to tell him how scared I was. His hand slid from my waist, following the cut of my dress, until suddenly, he was lifting the fabric. I gasped as his hand hit the skin of my thigh.

  “Brendan thought you belonged to him. He thought he could give you away. But you were right that night in the limo. You did not belong to him; you don’t belong to anyone.”

  His fingers walked up the sensitive skin between my legs, moving closer and closer to their prize. I felt wetness building there, preparing a place for him to plunge into me. Anton was wrong. How could such a smart man be so incredibly wrong?

  “You can’t be bought or sold or lost or won,” he whispered, trailing kisses down my neck and across my collarbone.

  I tilted my head back, unsure if the stars in my vision were real or imagined. Then, Anton ran his thumb across my opening, and a world of color bloomed in front of me. My legs began to shake, anticipating the pleasure that was to come. If I’d had the ability to do anything other than stand there, waiting for Anton’s next move, I would have grabbed his arm and begged him to push my panties aside. I would have asked him to rip them off. I would have sworn to never wear them ever again as long as he gave me wh
at my body wanted so badly.

  “Whatever people think about you, Bailey, you don’t take anything lying down.”

  His finger hooked around my panties, pushing them to the side, and finally, mercifully, he slipped a finger deep inside of me, and I groaned. I lifted a leg and wrapped it around his hips, pushing myself further onto his finger. I tipped backward, allowing the railing and Anton’s free arm to hold me up. He had been so wrong. I belonged to him. He controlled me with his touch.

  He owned me.

  He plunged into me, picking up the pace, sawing in and out of me at a crushing speed that still wasn’t enough. I opened my eyes for only a second to see him looking at me, watching me. His eyes were consuming my every expression, but I didn’t have the time to be self-conscious. I closed my eyes again and moaned.

  “More,” I breathed out. “Please, more.”

  He listened. Anton slipped another finger into me, and my body clenched around him, spreading for him.

  “Tell me what you want,” he said. “Tell me how you like it.”

  I looked up at him. My vision had gone blurry around the edges. Nothing mattered except for him and how he was making me feel.

  “Hard,” I said.

  He slammed his fingers into me, and my stomach clenched as the pain turned to pleasure. “You like it hard?”

  I groaned and nodded.

  He added a third finger, stretching me further than I thought possible. “Like this?”

  I leaned forward, resting my head on his shoulder and kissed the veins protruding from his neck. “Yes,” I whispered.

  He pulled his fingers out, then pushed them back in again, causing me to cry out. “You like this?”

  I screamed. “Yes. God, yes.”

  Just when I thought it couldn’t be better, he touched the bundle of nerves at my center, his thumb brushing across it almost by accident and then purposefully, rubbing circles there until I thought I’d fall apart. Until my muscles turned to jelly and I was a puddle in his hands.

  I didn’t even have the energy to moan. I just laid there, limp and delirious and so so happy as he brought me to the edge, pushing me towards the glorious fall. My body clenched, preparing. Warmth grew in my stomach as his fingers and thumb worked in tandem, playing a symphony that sent shivers down my back. I tipped my head back, waiting for the release… and then he was gone.

  I jerked to standing, the pleasure inside of me begging to be released. “Why did you—?”

  Anton was undoing his belt. His face was all hard lines and desire. He wanted this just as badly as I did. I’d been so wrapped up in my own pleasure, I hadn’t realized how affected Anton was. Perhaps he hadn’t been so wrong after all. I didn’t belong to him. But perhaps, if I played my cards right, he could belong to me.

  I moved forward, replacing Anton’s hands with my own, and slid his belt from around his waist, dropping it to the ground with a clatter. My shaky fingers undid the button on his suit pants and shimmied them down his hips just enough so I could get to what I wanted. He grabbed my shoulders to lift me back up, but I brushed his hands away and dropped to my knees.

  “Bailey, what are you—?” he began, but it was my turn to leave him speechless.

  I wrapped my hand around him, doing my best not to look as shocked as I felt. He was huge. Easily the largest man I’d ever been with. I pulled him out of his boxers and ran my tongue across him.

  Anton tilted his head back and groaned. He ran a hand through my hair and then cupped the back of my head, but I didn’t need to be persuaded. I pressed my lips to his tip and then slowly, as slowly as I could manage, let him fill my mouth. I inched down him until my nose hit his abdomen and he hit the back of my throat.

  “Fuck,” he moaned out, his voice gravelly and rough.

  I slid off of him and did it again, repeating the movement until I felt him twitching in my mouth. I wanted him to come. I wanted to wreck him and make his legs jelly. I wanted to taste him.

  However, Anton slipped himself out of my mouth and pulled me up to standing. I didn’t even get a chance to look at his face before he spun me around and began digging under the layers of my dress. He lifted them up, slid my panties down around my thighs, and plunged himself into me from behind.

  I screamed into the night. The cold glass of the railing bit into my legs as Anton filled me. He pounded into me again and again, our skin slapping together. I looked down at the city below us, wondering if anyone could see us. Wondering if a passerby would look up and catch an eyeful of us wrapped up in one another. I didn’t mind. In fact, it made a sick part inside of me smile.

  Anton grabbed a handful of my hair and pulled, forcing my back to arch. Then, he slid himself out of me and brought his lips to my ear. “Tell me you want me.”

  I remembered what he’d said that first night, as we’d stood in his kitchen. He wanted me to want it. He wouldn’t force himself upon me, and he hadn’t. I wanted it, but I didn’t want to tell him so.

  I pressed my lips together, staying quiet.

  He tugged harder on my hair. “If you don’t tell me, I won’t let you come.”

  “You won’t let me?” I asked, trying to laugh, though it came out like a whimper. I hoped he hadn’t heard it, but, of course, he had. I was shaking with the pleasure. My entire body ached to sit back down on his cock and ride it to my bliss. “I can come on my own,” I added, turning my head as much as his grip on my hair would allow and giving him a wicked smile.

  Anton smiled back. “We both know it wouldn’t be the same.”

  He pressed his hips forward, so he rubbed himself against my opening. My knees nearly gave out from the light touch. What would it feel like to orgasm around him? I groaned just at the thought.

  “Tell me you want me.”

  I shook my head, and Anton reached around with his spare hand and began circling my clit. Each swipe of his finger unraveled me. It felt as though he were tearing down the walls I’d long ago built around my heart and mind. He was stripping me bare in front of him, and if he continued, there would be nothing left for me to hide behind.

  “Bailey,” he groaned out, practically begging. “Tell me you want me.”

  I knew my resistance was taking a toll on him as well. He wanted this just as badly as I did, but his stubbornness wouldn’t allow him to settle for less than my complete submission.

  Anton pressed his lips to my neck and then ran his tongue down to my shoulder. He trailed kisses down my spine and across my shoulder blades. His touch was feathery light, but fiery. Each kiss felt like a jolt directly to my nervous system. I could resist him though. I didn’t need a release. I’d had sex with Brendan plenty of times without having an orgasm. This wouldn’t be any different.

  Then, Anton pulled a dirty trick. He pressed himself against my opening, pushing just enough that I felt my body wanting to open to him, and ran his finger across my center. My stomach clenched, fighting against the desire building inside of me. I clenched my teeth and tried to mentally send myself somewhere else. I tried to think about something repulsive, anything that would allow me to resist him, but with every passing second, Anton stole my thoughts. He commanded my senses until I didn’t have a choice.

  I angled my hips and pressed back until he was deep inside of me. Finally. Where he belonged.

  “I want you,” I whimpered as I rode his length back and forth. “I want you.”

  That was all it took. Anton dug his fingers into my hips and drilled into me. He pulled me onto him and pushed me off with enough force that I thought my body would break apart. The sensations I’d been repressing rose up in an almost unbearable rush. They consumed me until all I felt was pleasure and warmth and release. My hands grasped the railing, my legs shook, and finally, my body gave one final clench and then released.

  I let out a guttural scream with the release. It felt like my body had been made for this sensation, as if I’d been waiting my entire life for this moment.

  A few seconds later, with my orgasm
still writhing through me, Anton pulsed into me and groaned.

  “Yes. Yes. Yes.” He whispered the word with each thrust.

  We finished together, our bodies shaking and trembling and then collapsing together, spent and lazy. I finally did what I’d wanted to do since I’d first seen him. I reached my hand back and pressed my fingers through his thick hair. It was softer than I’d imagined.

  I kept a firm grip on his hair as I spun around to face him. His pupils were blown wide, and he was breathing heavily, but I ignored that. He wasn’t done yet. I pressed him down until he was on his knees, and then I used his hair to direct him down to my center.

  He pulled back, resisting me. “Tell me you—”