by Raven Dark
I run the flat of my palm up and down over the smooth skin between her tits, then over one breast. Her expression turns mutinous. A tear leaks out of her eye. She’s so beautiful when she tries to be tough while slowly falling apart.
Pacing myself, I run my hand over her other breast, then tweak each nipple, rolling them between my fingers, one at a time. Her throat works, her lips trembling.
Chort proviri, the urge to grab her head and force my cock into her mouth eats at my resolve. I jerk my hand away from her before I lose my control completely.
“Relax, I’m not going to fuck you now, Aurora.”
Suspicion flickers across her face as she lifts her head. “You’re not?”
“No.” I can’t keep the impatience out of my voice. The little bitch’s family ruined my life, and she was no innocent angel, either. She deserves whatever I give her. “I need to know a few things first,” I tell her. “Sit up.”
Some of the tension goes out of her. She straightens up. “Things like what?”
The anxiety in her tone is delicious. Letting her imagination run, I take my time removing a crystal decanter from a compartment in the door, along with a glass.
“Drink?” I hold up the glass.
“No thank you. Sir.” Her voice is tight.
I smile at the “Sir.” “Suit yourself.” After pouring myself a glass of whiskey and adding ice, I put the decanter away and sit back, taking a sip. The liquid burns my throat and warms my belly just right. “Tell me about your sexual experiences.”
Her lips mash together. I grin.
“What is it with you women and being self-conscious of sex?”
Those gorgeous electric blue eyes close in shame. Oh, this has to be good.
I push her chin up with my fingers. “Tell me how many guys you’ve fucked, Aurora,” I taunt.
She says nothing, her expression livid.
“Lesson two, Aurora. Never hide anything from me. Never lie or withhold information from me when I want it.”
“None,” she mutters.
Suspicion has me scrunching my brows at her. I down the rest of the whiskey. It had been drilled into my head for far too long that all women were sluts and whores, but there’s no indication of deception from her concerning her sexual status. The idea of taking her innocence makes me hard again. “Why?”
“What do you mean, why?”
“You’re fucking gorgeous. How does a woman like you remain untouched?”
By the hint of annoyance in her voice, my skepticism has hit a nerve. “In college, I wanted to study instead of party and have sex. During the training I’m taking now, I’ve chosen to focus on my career instead of on a relationship.”
“The good girl.” I roll my eyes as I set my glass down.
“Yeah, I suppose I am.”
I suspect her dad also had something to do with her lack of sexual experience as well. I’ll bet she’s too free-thinking to admit it, but he probably scared off anyone who got close to touching her. Which makes it clear just how angry with her betrayal he must have been to have given her to me.
“Did you save yourself, Aurora?” I mock gently.
The glare she gives me would put down a lesser man.
Oh, this is too delicious to be real. She isn’t a whore, she’s something so much better. She’s one of those naive young women who’s waited for the perfect man, the romantic ideal men like me seek to shatter.
“Are you on the pill?” I ask her.
“I told you, I’ve never had sex.”
“That doesn’t mean you aren’t using contraceptives. There are other reasons to use them.”
“I’m not on the pill, Michael.”
Well, we’ll have to change that. Fortunately, I’d already arranged to take care of it in the event that she wasn’t.
I let my thumb trace the soft curve of her lips, astounded at the silkiness of them. “I’m going to enjoy taking your first time. Corrupting you for my pleasure.”
Sadness fills her eyes before she looks away. If I’d had a heart I would have hated myself at that look, but such a thing had been cut out of me long ago.
Once more, I let my finger caress her cheek gently, watch her stiffen, then use the crook of it to turn her chin up to me. “I can hardly wait to be inside you. Such perfection.”
She looks at me, her eyes pleading.
“We’ve got a bit of a drive to go, so you might as well sit back and enjoy the ride.”
Aurora glares at me, but slumps against the seat. She says nothing.
“Get some sleep if you’re tired.” I nod to the seat opposite me and pour myself another shot of whiskey.
A hiss of anger leaves her and she tosses her gorgeous head. I can practically feel the fear radiating from her, mounting with every second. Her eyes flit from her window to mine, then to the back one. She’s trying to work out where I might be taking her, what I might have planned. She’s trying to hide it, but I know that instinct compels her to look for an escape, however covertly.
“You won’t get away, Aurora, so you might as well accept this.” I down the shot.
The rest of the drive, almost two hours with the shitty road conditions and traffic, passes in silence. Her hatred is palpable, pounding through me like an unseen energy, fueling my need. Her lower lip quivers sometimes, as if she’s fighting the urge to cry.
“Are you going to pout for the whole trip, Aurora?” I smooth her curls off her shoulders. “Keep doing that, and I might have to kiss that pout from those lips of yours.”
She remains silent. I chuckle at her restraint.
For the most part, I keep myself from touching her. My control feels like it’s constantly on a knife’s edge, but I won’t take her here. I won’t until I know there’s no chance of escape.
When we get close to where we’re going, I draw her to me, running my hands through her silky hair, over her smooth bare back. “Won’t be long until you’re mine, kravitsa.”
She meets my eyes at last, her face so pale it’s almost alabaster. Fear pools in her eyes.
When the car pulls into a parking lot, I press the button for the intercom on the side of my door. I tell my boys to hold off on opening the doors for us, making sure to give the command in Russian.
Aurora looks at me like a woman on her way to the gallows. I can see her trying to work out what I’ve said from my tone.
“Where are you taking me?” Her voice is almost, but not quite hard. It has the slightest shake to it.
“Are you scared, Aurora?”
“Yes.” That comes out like iron. Tough little bird. I love it.
The vehicle stops and Petro turns the car off. Aurora peers at the windows, clearly trying to see where we are, but the windows are too dark.
“So you just expect to cart me off to who knows where and take what you want from me?”
“No. I’ll only take what’s already mine.” I reach over and quickly do up her shirt for her.
“Should I get you a facemask and a roll of duct tape too?” Desperation and frustration turn her voice to steel.
I make an amused sound in my throat. Then I take out the penknife from my pants pocket and slice the flex cuffs from her wrists. “You want to be snide little bitch about this, I can play that game too. I can be a real bastard in bed when I want to be.”
Aurora works her shoulder muscles and rubs the red lines that encircle her wrists. “You want to steal my virginity because I did something to tick you off, fine. I’ll give you what you want, but understand this, Sir. I don’t like you. I’m doing this to stay alive.”
A thrill races all the way to my cock. Such spirit.
I grab a handful of her hair and pull it back, hard. Put my face in hers until she flinches.
“You understand this, Aurora. I won’t hurt you any more than necessary, but insulting me is grounds for punishment. Our time together can be enjoyable for us both, or not. Your choice. Say the word now, and I’ll have you thrown at your father’s feet. Rest
assured, he doesn’t want a war any more than I do, so he will kill you. Otherwise, you’re mine, and nothing will change that now.”
She licks her lips. The fork in the road is there before her; this is the moment when she can back out, end it all with one word, or let me consume everything she is with my dark and twisted hunger.
Fear of Mafia justice turns her eyes to near black, and yet, a spark of desire also ignites there. I don’t know which turns me on more.
Aurora nods as best she can with my grip still on her. “I’ll go with you.”
“Wise choice.” I release her and signal to my men to open the door. “Now. Will you walk with me like a good girl, or do I have to carry you?”
Chapter 5
Twisted
As soon as I glance out of the car and see where we are, my heart plummets.
Where I was expecting Michael to have taken me, I don’t know. A middle of nowhere hotel where he can do whatever he wants to me without the risk of being interrupted. Or maybe some out of the way place with a deep basement, shut out from listening ears. But we haven’t stopped at either of those.
We’re at the airport. At the end of a l0ng runway, a building bears the sign of the Westchester International Airport. Except for the limo I’m still sitting in and the jet situated in front of it, the tarmac is desolate. The implications sink in with the impact of a sucker-punch to the gut.
My first thought is that Michael lied; he does intend to take me to Russia with him after all.
Michael’s already gotten out of the car and come around to my side. Adrian holds the door open and Michael extends his hand out for me to take.
“Oh, hell no.” Instinct has me sliding back along the seat, deeper inside the limousine. “This is not going to happen.”
Irritation flashes in Michael’s eyes as he squats in front of the open door to the vehicle. Blocking my escape.
“What are you going to do, kravitsa? Hmm? Are you going to run again? How far do you think you’ll get before I catch you this time?”
I glance around. Petro has gotten out of the car. He’s standing at the door behind me, blocking my only other way out. Lights flood the tarmac, but there’s no one around.
“This is a private runway, reserved for me and me alone.” Michael’s voice draws my attention back to him. “You won’t get close to anyone who could help you before I drag you into that jet. If you think you hate me now, wait and see what happens after I catch you.”
Gulp.
Running is not an option. Even if I did get away, he’s right in what he said earlier. There is no place that the Italian Mob can’t find me. But if letting a kidnapper get me in a car is a bad move, letting him get me on a plane is worse. Once we’re in the air, my chance of escape is virtually gone.
I have to believe there would be a way to avoid my father’s men, or his. Waiting until we land is my best option, but there’s no guarantee that where he’ll take me will offer any better chance, especially if we’re out of the States.
All the sick, twisted things he might do to me once we’re in the air flash through my mind. My stomach roils sickeningly.
As if my helplessness shows on my face, Michael holds out his hand to me. “I will drag you if you force me to, but I’d rather you come willingly.”
I slap my hand into his. Michael pulls me from the car and I stumble, colliding with his hard frame. His arms crush me to him and my hands land on his massive chest. His lips brush my ear.
“As I said, this is a private runway, but let’s not take chances. Walk with me as if I am the light of your life.”
That explains why he cut off the cuffs. He could have left them on until we boarded, but there was the slightest chance someone might approach us. A violent bolt amusement makes me smile at the thought of someone catching him with a woman who’s cuffed and gagged.
That would go over well.
“Yes, god forbid someone see what a monster you are, Michael.”
His eyes sparkle. He runs his thumb over my lips. “Mouthy little bird.”
He slips his arm around me, holding me against his side in a tight grip as he starts toward the plane.
“Petro, take the limo back to the hotel,” Michael says over his shoulder. “Adrian.” He signals for the blond man to follow us onto the jet.
Adrian follows a step behind while a grumbling Petro gets back in the car. The engine starts, and then the car rolls out of the airport. Tension I never knew was there leaks out of me with the pervert gone.
I look up at the jet, really looking at it for the first time. I’m not an aircraft expert by any means, but my father flies often and sometimes talks about the different types. The jet is a monster this close, white as the snowdrifts around us, and gleaming in the moonlight. It’s a Boeing 747, the sort of aircraft that, when owned for personal use, is reserved only for the supremely rich, or the President. That Michael has one makes clear a giant problem for me.
His dad’s position as a Bratva kingpin, and probably whatever illegal enterprises Michael has his hands in, allows him endless funds, and probably limitless resources. The likelihood of my ever getting out of this, and of ever remaining off of his radar if I do, just shrank down to a chance so small a speck of dust looks like a continent in comparison.
A new wave of helplessness washes over me. At the bottom of the steps that have been brought up to the open door of the jet, my knees threaten to fold under me.
“Michael, where are you taking me?” Considering that he’s only avoided the question up to now, I don’t expect him to tell me, but I have to ask.
Silent, he hooks his arm in mine and strides with me up the steps. Other than the slight tension in his arm keeping me pinned at his side, there’s nothing threatening about him. We might look like any other couple, a girl and her rich boyfriend, walking up to his private jet for a romantic weekend getaway in Paris or Milan. Except, when Michael glances at me, there’s a mocking twist to his mouth, rife with the promise of something dangerous and forbidden.
He’s in control, and he knows he has me.
At the top of the stairs, I glance back. Petro and the car are gone. Adrian waits patiently on the step below us. His expression is a professional mask. He’s not a bit phased by his employer’s having kidnapped a woman, or by what Michael might do to me, even though he has to have some idea of what’s coming.
There’s no one else in sight. No one I can call out to or run to for help.
My stomach drops.
As soon as we reach the entrance, Michael seizes my wrist and yanks me inside the plane, then heads down a narrow hall with me in tow. His grip is like iron, painful with the bruises from the cuffs. I wince, but he ignores it.
We enter a large main cabin that immediately takes my breath away. A small tear-drop style crystal chandelier illuminates the space from the ceiling, carpet covers the floor in crimson, and black leather couches line the walls. Small windows alternate with polished dark wood, all of the windows with the coverings pulled down. The room is gorgeous, but the low lighting and the covered windows give the cabin a foreboding, secretive feel that makes me wonder what sort of underhanded dealings have taken place here.
In the hall, there’s click and a heavy metallic clang as Adrian shuts the door to the jet and locks it. The sound reminds me of a jail cell locking shut.
Adrian disappears down the hall toward the captain’s cabin, once more leaving me alone with my captor.
When we reach one of the couches, Michael finally releases me. I rub my raw, scratchy wrists.
“Did you think I was going to try to escape before we got in the air, or are you always this much of a brute, Michael?”
His eyes barely flick to the redness on my wrists before he drops onto the couch. “I brought you here to fuck you, Aurora, not take you on a romantic weekend getaway.” He nods to the cushion beside him. “Sit down.”
I drop my arms. “Wow. At least you’re honest.”
At his words, sadness pierc
es my heart. He was right back there in the car, I had saved myself for Mr. Right. It hits home extra hard that Michael cares nothing for my feelings; he’ll just steal what he wants from me, paying me back for whatever unknown slight he thinks I’ve committed against him.
Head bowed to hide any emotions he might see, I sit, but put at least half a cushion between us. My gut twists as he moves closer to me.
Someone raps on the door to the cabin.
Michael turns his head to the side.
“Just a few minutes until takeoff, Mr. Volkov.” A man in a flight captain’s uniform stands in the doorway. “We should reach our destination on time. There will be a car waiting for you when we arrive.”
It strikes me how strange it is to hear someone address the boy I knew from childhood with such formality. It’s the same way people always talked to Shurik Volkov, his father, as if he’s a man of power and influence.
My captor says nothing, his eyes settling on me, and the captain leaves the room, seeming unfazed by his employer’s lack of response, as if he’s used to it. He shuts the double doors to the cabin.
The thought slithers through my mind that I could have alerted the captain as to what was going on, but I know better. He’s obviously a trusted employee who, like Adrian, is paid to look the other way when it comes to his boss’ unscrupulous actions.
A minute later, the captain’s voice comes over an intercom, speaking in Russian. I don’t know what he’s saying precisely, but I’ve been on enough flights with my father to recognize that it’s probably standard flight instructions given to passengers during takeoff. Instructions to remain seated, and the estimated time of arrival at our destination…whatever it is.
Trepidation makes my stomach clench. There’s no going back now. No getting out of this.
Michael stands up. “Turn around, let me buckle you in.”
I sigh, but turn on the couch so that my back is against the cushion. Michael leans over and does up the seatbelt, clipping it around my waist with a click. He sits beside me and does the same for himself.
When the jet’s engine wines to life, it startles me, even though I’ve flown countless times with my father. The floor vibrates under my feet.