by Jenika Snow
And then they were falling off the bed. Her skull cracked back on the floor, and Rick made a deep sound as their positions shifted. He grabbed a chunk of her hair, jerked her head back, and bared his teeth. He lifted his other hand, and she watched as he curled his hand into a fist. Slapping at him and trying to push him off did nothing but have him curse at her. She waited for the hit, but before she felt pain the weight of him was suddenly off of her.
She opened her eyes only long enough to see Sergei towering over Rick. He had his hand around Rick’s neck, and started to slowly lift him off the ground. She felt her eyes widen at the clear strength in Sergei. With one powerful move, Sergei head-butted Rick hard enough she heard the sound of their skulls slamming against each other echo around the room. Her ex’s body went limp, and blood started to drip down from his hairline. Sergei let Rick fall to the floor, the other man’s head slamming back on the ground with a sickening sound.
Zoey started to shake as she stared at where Rick lay unmoving.
“Myshka,” Sergei said in a gentle tone.
Slowly she turned her head and looked at the man that had come at the perfect time. She stared at the person she was falling for. Then the tears came without her being strong enough to stop them.
“Shhh, baby, let me just hold you,” he said and pulled her close. He sat on the floor with her on his lap, holding her, stroking her back, and whispering words in Russian. She didn’t know what he said, but she could tell they were sweet, endearments. “You’re in shock, baby,” he whispered softly, and she knew she was.
“I hate that he’s done this to me, that he still has this much control on my life.” She glanced at Rick from around Sergei’s big shoulder. Rick was still alive, and she watched the rise and fall of his chest as he lay there unconscious. Zoey wished he was dead, the life just snuffed right out of him.
“Don’t worry about him,” Sergei said with this darkness in his voice. “I’ll take care of the motherfucker.”
Maybe Zoey should have said no, to tell Sergei to let Rick live, but she just rested her head on his chest, closed her eyes, and kept her mouth shut.
Chapter Twelve
Sergei had called Yvgeny to pick Zoey up and take her some place safe. He’d also told his associate to let her sister know what was going on. Sergei trusted the other man, and knew he’d watch over the woman he was already in love with. Yeah, he fucking loved her, and as swift as it all had been, it felt like the most right thing that had ever happened in his life.
He lit a cigarette, knowing he should quit them, but for what he was about to do he needed that nicotine kick.
His men stood behind him, all waiting for his orders, or hell, just to watch the carnage that was about to take place. The sound of the warehouse door opening and closing told him Yvgeny was here.
“Glad you didn’t start without me,” he said to Sergei in Russian.
Sergei nodded, staring at Rick, whom they had strung up like a pig about to get its belly cut open.
Rick had a gag in his mouth, mainly because he’d been screaming like a little bitch. He struggled against his bonds. Sergei wanted to prolong this, but he also knew he wanted to get this the fuck over with so he could go back to Zoey.
“She’s doing okay, all things considered?”
“Da,” Yvgeny replied. “Alexa’s with her at my place.”
Good, that was really good.
“What’s your plan for the fucker?” Yvgeny asked, coming to stand right beside Sergei.
“I want to make this quick, but he also needs to suffer.”
“Agreed.”
It wasn’t a surprise Yvgeny wanted to be so involved. He’d known Zoey the entire time she’d been here, had protected her, and wanted to take care of her. He had just as much right to dish out the revenge as Sergei did.
Sergei removed his suit jacket, took off his tie, and rolled up his sleeves to his elbows. He then undid the first few buttons of his collar. This was going to be back alley fighting, dirty, raw, and there would be a lot of blood involved. But in the end there was no doubt the motherfucker would be dead.
Sergei took one more hit off the cigarette, but instead of putting it out on the ground, he walked up to Rick and stubbed the butt out in the center of the prick’s forehead. Rick screamed out, and Sergei grinned.
“I grabbed these,” Yvgeny said and handed over a pair of brass knuckles. Sergei looked down at them, memories of his life on the streets back in Russia slamming into him.
He grabbed the metal, slipped it on his fingers, and curled his hand into a fist. He was back home with these on.
“Get ready to feel some major pain, fucker,” he said right before he stepped up to Rick and started beating the fucking shit out of him.
A left hook.
An undercut.
A round of punches to his kidneys.
“Let me have a few goes at him,” Yvgeny said, and Sergei stepped aside. He watched the other man land blow after blow into the fucker’s face, and after about five minutes Yvgeny stepped away.
Sergei didn’t waste any time going back to town on the asshole’s body. He heard the grunts and the cries of pain come from the prick, and he loved every fucking minute of it.
Sergei had to give the bastard credit. He didn’t beg for his life.
“How’s it feel to be the one getting the beat down?” Sergei gritted out and slammed the brass into the side of Rick’s head. His skull cracked to the side. Blood was everywhere, even covering Sergei’s knuckles and shirt.
“You can fuck her, but she’ll always be mine. I had her first, and there’s nothing you can ever do about it.” Rick spit out a mouthful of blood, and Sergei felt his rage grow even more. Rearing his arm back he slammed the metal so hard into the side of the bastard’s jaw he heard the bone crunch under the onslaught.
No one said anything as they watched Rick take his beating. They got just as much pleasure watching a woman beater get taken out as Sergei did delivering the hits.
After ten minutes of hard-core hitting, Sergei took a step back and looked at his handiwork. Rick looked like he was a piece of meat that had just gone through the grinder. Blood pooled on the ground, and pieces of flesh had torn off from Rick’s face, skin and meat barely attached anymore.
“Not that I give a fuck, but he’s about to check out from blood loss. You better finish it so you get the satisfaction of delivering that final blow, and this asshole feeling it.” Yvgeny was the one to speak.
Sergei turned his head and spit, his focus still on Rick. Someone handed him a bottle of vodka, and he took a long pull from it. Sergei could have gone all night, but Rick couldn’t.
He walked back to the bastard, grabbed his chin in a brutal hold, and bared his teeth. “She never was yours and will never be yours. You were a stain on her life, a parasite.” Rick was half passed out as it was, and Sergei wanted to give that final blow while the fucker was still conscious.
“Gun or blade?” Yvgeny asked, producing both. Sergei grabbed the ten-inch hunting knife, one that had no doubt been used to kill plenty in its time. Without anything else being said, Sergei started to go to work on Rick’s face, opening it up, giving him a nice Hollywood smile. Then he plunged the blade into his gut, and brought the metal up to his breastbone.
“Zoey’s mine,” Sergei growled out as he made sure Rick was staring right in his eyes when the bastard took that final wet, gurgling breath.
And then the fucker was out.
Sergei took a step back and stared at Rick hanging there lifeless. “Get rid of the body,” he said to one of the men watching. “Cut him up and bury the pieces in different part of the city.”
He handed the blade off, wanting to get back to Zoey, but needing to be cleaned up first. He’d seen so much death and blood in his day that it didn’t affect him, but Zoey—fuck, Zoey had to be traumatized.
If she didn’t know already, he’d make her see she was his.
He’d go to any lengths to ensure that.
It felt like hours since she’d been taken to Yvgeny’s home, and although the place was magnificent, all she could think about was where Sergei was, and what he was doing to Rick.
But the truth was for as much as she thought about it, wondered, she felt no sorrow for the man that had tormented her for far too long.
She hoped he was dead, because then she could fully move on with her life and be happy … with Sergei.
“You want anything else to drink?” Alexa asked, heading over to the bar.
Zoey nodded. She got up and handed her sister the now empty scotch glass. She’d never been much of a drinker, but after tonight it had helped relax her.
“What do you think is going on?” Zoey asked, her voice low.
Alexa glanced at her, but didn’t say anything. She didn’t have to. Her expression said enough.
“Yeah, I think things are pretty heavy, too.”
Alexa poured their drinks and gestured for them to go back to the couch. After they sat down and Zoey took a drink, she glanced at her sister.
“You know he’s dead, right?” Alexa asked.
Zoey nodded, not feeling anything one way or another.
“That doesn’t … worry you at all?”
Zoey thought about the question, but she didn’t need to. “Honestly?” Alexa nodded. “No.”
A moment of passed between them.
“I hope they made him suffer.”
Another moment of silence passed.
“I hope so, too,” Alexa responded.
They sat there finishing off their drink, the sound of a clock ticking down the minutes resounding in the room.
“I think I love him,” Zoey finally whispered.
Alexa looked at her, the surprise clear on her face.
“It’s damn crazy, I know.”
“It’s not,” Alexa responded.
And then they heard the front door opening and closing, and they both stood when they saw Sergei and Yvgeny stepping into the living room. Sergei’s hair was wet, and he’d changed out of his shirt.
She didn’t have to wonder why for long.
Without thinking about anything else but the fact she wanted Sergei to hold her, Zoey set her glass down and went to him. He pulled her into the hardness of his body right away, and she inhaled the clean scent of him.
“He won’t bother you again,” he said in a low, deep voice.
She didn’t speak for long seconds, and then she pulled back and looked into his face.
“Good.”
He cupped her face and smoothed his thumbs over her cheeks. “I’ll always live this life, Zoey.”
She nodded, knowing what he meant without him having to break it down for her.
“I want you just as you are,” she said. A moment of silence passed before she spoke again. “I think I love you, Sergei,” she whispered, knowing it sounded stupid, but wanting him to know. They hadn’t known each other long at all, but she knew what she felt, and what she felt as all-consuming.
His big body shuddered, as if her words had cut him deep.
And then he pulled her against him and just held her. He started whispering against her hair in Russian.
“What does that mean?” she asked after a few seconds had passed.
“I said you’re mine, the same as I’m yours.”
She couldn’t help but smile, because yeah, that was exactly how she felt.
Epilogue
Six months later
Zoey was his in every way imaginable. Sergei felt it as clearly as he felt her flesh under his hands, as clearly as he felt her breath on his skin.
“Sergei.” She moaned. “God, yes,”
He fucking loved the way she said his name.
“Say it, baby.” He didn’t need to specify what he meant.
“I’m yours.”
He grunted in approval.
She held him tight and lifted her hips, grinding herself on him. He was still inside of her tight, wet heat, and it was euphoria, ambrosia. Curling his hands in the sheets by her head, he started moving inside of her fast and hard, steady and powerful. He wanted to crawl up inside of her, imprint himself on her, make her his in every possible way.
Sweat trailed down his temples as he claimed the woman he loved, as he fucked his mark onto her. His skin felt too tight, his heart racing like a jackhammer. Her pussy felt so fucking good, and all he wanted to do was bury his face in the sweet spot once more. But his dick was a greedy bastard and pulsed, needing him to continue pulling out and pushing back inside of her. Sergei pulled back just an inch and let his gaze lower to her pussy. Her clit was swollen, begging for attention. With his cock lodged in her body, he watched himself thrust in and out of her, his length slick with her arousal.
She gasped out his name.
A groan left him at the way her pussy clenched around him. Slowly and with measured movements he continued to move in and out of her, fucking her. Owning her.
“That’s it, Zoey.” His balls drew up tight with his impending orgasm. He was going to fill her with his cum, make her so full of it she would feel it slip out of her pussy the next day. She’d be reminded tomorrow who had fucked her raw, who had owned this cunt.
She slid her hands up his sides and around to his back, her nails scoring his skin ever so slightly.
“Wrap your legs around my waist,” he demanded.
She obeyed.
Lifting up just enough that his arms were locked straight and his chest no longer touched hers, Sergei pulled out of her wet cunt for only a second, and then thrust back in deep and hard.
She gasped, and then moaned. Zoey arched her back, her back bowing, her tits looking so fucking good.
He sat back on his knees, curled his hands around her waist, and felt the air leave him as he got a prime shot of her cunt. He started fucking her again, and the sloppy, wet sound of his cock tunneling into her pussy could have had him coming right then and there.
He wanted to hold out, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to.
“I’m going to come,” she gasped, and the sound of her pleasure, the way she voiced what she wanted, how she felt, was such a fucking turn-on.
And then she was coming.
Her muscles milked him so strongly that he threw his head back and groaned out his climax, not able to stop himself from getting off.
“Ah, fuck, Zoey.” His entire body was tense as he emptied his balls into her, filling her with his seed.
“So. Fucking. Good.” His voice was low, scratchy from his pleasure.
He was hers as much as she was his. And it would always be that way.
Always.
He had never loved a woman, and he knew he never would. This was real, the most real fucking thing he’d ever experienced.
And he wouldn’t let her go.
His life was so dark, so damn grisly. Zoey was the one light in all those shadows, the one person that could bring him joy and happiness amongst blood and death.
When both of them were sated he finally forced himself to pull out of her tight heat. He collapsed on the bed beside her, but immediately pulled her close to him, needing her body right up against his.
She was relaxed, exhausted, and he fucking loved that.
“You’re the only good thing in my life, Myshka.”
She tucked her head right under his chin, and placed her hand right over his heart. “Who knew a big, strong man like you, one that deals in the darkness all the time, could say such sweet things?”
He smiled, and it was genuine. He might not ever be able to change for her, and would always be part of the Bratva, but he could be a good man to her … but only to her.
****
In the last six months things had really changed, but they had all been for the better.
Sergei had moved to America, and although he’d said they could use his help here, she knew he’d done it to be with her.
How could a girl not fall in love with a man even more after knowing tha
t?
Zoey was actually working at the club, and using her degree. She also was in therapy, something that helped her get Rick and his poison fully out of her life. She didn’t know if she’d be able to fully flush him from her reality, but she was working toward it.
Although she loved Sergei, they were going slow, well, as slow as things could go being with someone who had killed for her, and was in the Russian Mafia. But she didn’t care about his “profession”, or that what he did with his life wasn’t considered traditional.
The heart wants what the heart wants.
And she couldn’t help whom she loved.
They didn’t live together. She was staying at his place more times than not, but they needed their space at times, too.
She stared at the man that was deadly, but that she loved more than anything else. She’d never felt this way, and she knew it was real. It had to be, because how could something that felt so good be so wrong?
She watched the rise and fall of his chest as he slept, and placed her hand softly on his chest. The beat of his heart was steady, strong, and the even breaths that came from him told her he was deep in sleep. Zoey lifted her hand and ran her fingers over his cheek, feeling the dark scruff under her touch.
And then Sergei lifted the corner of his mouth, opened his eyes, and lifted his hand to place it over hers.
“Marry me,” he said, and she was so taken back she actually rose up and pulled her hand back.
“What?” Her voice was tight, surprised.
He rose up, as well. “Marry me.”
As the shock wore off the happiness filled her. “Okay,” she said, and then started giggling. “Yes.”
He grinned, flashing a straight white smile. Sergei pulled her onto his lap and she just let him hold her.
With her he was sweet, gentle, but he’d always have that hard edge to him. She would never forget the intensity or darkness that he held within, not when she remembered the way he’d looked when he held Rick off the ground.
Her man was dangerous, but God, did she love him no matter what. Her life would never be tame, that was for sure, but she would never have to fear the man she was with. Zoey was ready to accept it all, even if it wasn’t always heart and flowers.