by Zoe Blake
Shocked at the raw honesty of his words, I struggled to be free, but he tightened his grasp on my hip. My breath came in quick gasps as I tried to slow my beating heart, and I still denied it. “No. It’s not true.”
He brushed his hips against my ass before pressing the hard ridge of his cock between my cheeks. “You’re lying. You’ve lain in bed countless nights wondering what it would be like to be pinned beneath my weight, struggling against my grasp on your wrists as I thrust my cock deep into your tight cunt, swallowing your screams with my mouth.”
“Oh God,” I whimpered as I pressed my thighs together, trying to ease the painful ache his wicked words were causing.
Still, he tormented me, his deep voice harsh and low. “I know because I’ve dreamed about it too. Every damn night for the last three years, I’ve gripped my cock and stroked, imagining you writhing beneath me. Your pretty lips still swollen from struggling to take my long shaft down your throat. Your long hair fanned out over my pillow. My hips between your thighs as I drive into your sweet heat over and over and over again till you cry out in pained pleasure from the assault.”
I slipped one hand between my legs and rubbed my fingers through the slick arousal, using the tip to tease my clit, desperately needing to take the edge off my building orgasm. Fuck, this man had quite a hold over me if he could make me come just with the power of his words.
His teeth sank into my earlobe as the flat of his palm once more struck my ass. The sharp sting of pain made me cry out. I could feel the vibration of his growl along my back. “Say it. Say you’re my dirty girl.”
I squeezed my eyes tightly shut. “Please don’t make me,” I whispered past his grip on my throat.
He tightened his fingers. I went up on my toes as my hand gripped the edge of the marble island. He spanked my upper thigh and the curve just below my ass cheek. Hot needles radiated from my ass up my spine.
He repeated his dark command as his fingers pushed mine aside. “Don’t test me on this. I want you to say it. Say you’re my dirty girl, and you’ll obey me.” He thrust two fingers into my still swollen and sore pussy.
Tears streaked down my cheeks as I submitted to him. Worse, as I found myself wanting to submit to him, needing to.
The pad of his thumb caressed my dark hole. His threat was clear. “Don’t make your punishment worse than it needs to be, kroshka.” He ran the tip of his tongue along the edge of my jaw. It was impossible not to imagine that same tongue licking and teasing my clit till I cried out in submission.
My tongue flicked out to wet my lips. Finally, I relented to the fierce pull of his power and strength over me. “I’m your… your… dirty girl.”
He pushed a third finger inside of me as he pressed his thumb deeper into my ass, past the knuckle. My pussy burned as its already tortured walls stretched to accommodate his fingers, and I knew the pain would be so much worse when he forced his thick shaft inside of me. I moaned at the thought of him relentlessly driving into my bent over body as he gripped my throat harder and harder, cutting off my air, holding the power of life and death over me, demanding I come on his command.
He shifted his hand from my throat to my hair. Fisting it, he pulled my head back. “Not good enough, kroshka. Tell me what I want to hear.”
My brain screamed not to say it, but my body begged me to utter the words he wanted to hear. In that moment, I would have done anything to stop his sexual torment. “I’ll obey you.”
Using his grip on the hair at the nape of my neck, he yanked me upright and around straight into his arms. His mouth claimed mine as his enormous hands wrapped around my waist and lifted me high to place me on the edge of the island countertop. I hissed as the heated skin of my ass from his spanking hit the cold marble surface. Wedging my thighs open, he stepped between them, grabbing my ankles and wrapping my legs around his lower torso. There was a rush of disappointment when I realized the island was too tall for me to feel the press of his cock between my legs.
His hands gripped my jaw as he pulled back and gazed deeply into my eyes. “This is for your own good, baby. You need to trust me. I know what’s best for you.”
The pad of his thumb swiped at the fresh tear which fell down my cheek. He continued, “I wouldn’t be doing this if I didn’t believe deep in my soul that we were meant to be together. I know it, kroshka, as I know the certainty of my next breath. With me, you will be protected and want for nothing.”
He lowered his head, but just as his lips touched mine, his cellphone went off. Glancing at the screen, he cursed and answered it. He barked orders in rapid Russian. He slammed the phone down and drew a frustrated hand through his hair. “I have to leave, but I’ll return in a few hours.”
“Are my brothers okay? Samara? Yelena?”
He stroked my cheek with the back of his knuckles. “Yes, baby. They are fine. This is a different matter that requires my… special touch.”
Mafia. Illegal. Dangerous. Criminal. Murder.
The words tripped across my brain like rapid gunfire.
He lifted me off the island and kept his hands on my waist till my wobbly legs straightened. Giving me a kiss on the forehead, he grabbed his car keys and phone and admonished me to eat something and rest before running down the hallway, slamming the front door in his wake.
The moment the door closed, I stumbled, then leaned against the cool metal surface of the stainless steel refrigerator door. Slowly, my legs gave out, and I slid down its smooth surface till I was sitting on the floor. I placed my face in my hands and burst into tears.
When I had exhausted myself, I crawled on my hands and knees a few feet till I could reach up for the strap of my purse. Pulling it off the counter onto the floor, I reached for my cellphone. I dialed the first number in my contacts.
“Are you okay?”
I burst into tears again.
“Hold on. I’m coming to get you.”
I sniffed. “Grab my passport.”
Chapter 26
Mikhail
“Where is she?”
After tearing through Gregor’s house, I finally found Nadia’s partners in crime, Samara and Yelena, in Samara’s painting studio.
Samara turned at my outburst, paintbrush held aloft. Yelena didn’t even bother to turn away from her task of hanging one of the canvases stacked against the wall.
Yelena called over her shoulder. “Where is who, Mikhail?”
I clenched my fists, reminding myself these were Gregor and Damien’s women and Nadia’s best friends.
“You know damn well who. She’s not at my place and not here. She has nowhere else to go, so where is she?”
Samara put down her paintbrush and snatched up a stained white towel and wiped her hands. “Is that maybe because you burned down her apartment and jewelry shop?”
I ran a hand over my face and let out a deep sigh. I deserved that. “Please, girls. I’m worried about her. We didn’t part well — there were things said — and things not said.”
I should never have left her. I should have ignored that damn phone call and stayed right where I belonged, between her thighs, kissing her. Regret twisted deep in my gut. I shattered her with my demands and hard truths and then left her to pick up the pieces. I was a fucking monster. I knew better. I knew she was just testing my new boundaries. I should have kept my anger and lust leashed. Now that I had finally allowed myself to claim her as my own, I had this crushing fear that someone or something was going to take her away from me. It led me to pushing her too hard, too fast, too soon — literally.
I took what she was saying at face value because it was what I wanted to hear, but I knew better. I knew better than to believe her when she said she was comfortable with the level of rough sex I enjoyed. She was a goddamn virgin, and I fucked her like a whore — several times. Slaking years of pent-up rage and desire on her tiny body with no regard for how overwhelming all this must have been for her.
And then I had to go and demand she marry me.
&nb
sp; It wasn’t how I'd intended it to be. It had been my plan to propose over a romantic dinner, with flowers and champagne and everything her little heart probably desired out of a marriage proposal. My sweet girl deserved that. But then she started fighting me and something primal and untamed swelled in my chest, a deep dark fear that she might leave — that she might leave me.
So I'd reacted the only way I knew how, the way they had conditioned me from birth to react — violently. I saw red. My one driving need was to make her understand no wasn’t an option, that no would never be an option where we were concerned. Those days were over. The days of denying how we felt for one another were over. The harder she fought, the more desperately I drove my fangs into her.
Yelena chimed in. “Were the things said, all your plans to railroad her into a life and a relationship she wasn’t ready for?”
Samara piled on. “Was one of the things not said a romantic marriage proposal?”
Fuck me, this must be hell.
I’m in hell.
I glanced over my shoulder, practically pleading in my mind for Gregor or Damien or both to walk through that door and save me from their women.
Yelena approached me. “What is on your coat?” She brushed at a few stray flower petals that clung to the wool material.
I shifted my gaze. “There was… an incident.”
That was putting it mildly. I had returned home with flowers and that professional pearl and bead drilling machine I knew she’d been wanting. The one with the hundred-and-eighty degrees rotating jaw and water holding post. I knew it was her dream to branch into pearls with her jewelry designs. I had overheard her saying so to some asshole at the wedding party. The man was in the presence of the most amazing woman in the world, and he couldn’t even bother to pay attention to what she was saying, but I was listening.
All I’d done these last few years was watch and listen from afar, and yet when I finally had her in my arms, I stopped hearing her. When I realized she wasn’t home, I took my rage out on the colorful bouquet in my hand. Not one of my finer moments.
Samara crossed her arms over her chest. “You know you don’t deserve her?”
I answered without hesitation. “I know that, but I’m the only man who truly sees her.”
Yelena snorted.
I raised both arms, palms up. “I get it. I fucked up. I finally had her in my arms, and I pushed her away. You have to understand. There will never — never — be a man on the face of this earth who loves her more deeply and completely than I do.” I nodded toward Samara. “Up until your wedding, I would have been content to spend my days torturing myself, protecting her, always on the sidelines, just to be near her. But something snapped inside of me. And it wasn’t just those bastards who attacked her. It was watching you and Gregor, and realizing I not only wanted that for me and Nadia, but I was also willing to fight heaven and hell to have it. I love her and I can’t imagine my life without her.”
There was a long pause.
The tension in the room seemed to lengthen and stretch. I shifted from one foot to the other. Then Samara placed a hand over her heart and exclaimed, “Oh my God!”
Yelena let out a long mewing, “Awwwww.”
They both stepped close and group-hugged me.
I threw my head back and groaned.
Yep. This is definitely hell.
“This is why men never bare their souls,” I grumbled.
They both stepped back. Then Yelena slapped my upper arm. “Did you bother telling her any of that?”
“Or were you a typical Neanderthal caveman, all grab and no talk?” Samara asked.
I answered under my breath.
Yelena cupped her ear. “What was that? I couldn’t hear you?”
I lifted my eyes to the ceiling and prayed for patience. Through clenched teeth, I responded, “I was the typical Neanderthal caveman.”
Casting my gaze around, I eyed a closed closet door across the room. “Ladies, can you please tell me where you’re hiding Nadia? I really need to talk with her.”
They exchanged a look.
Samara wrung her hands. “We can’t.”
“We promised,” Yelena shrugged.
With a frustrated sigh, I marched over to the closet and yanked on the doorknob. It was locked, but I could tell it was one of those simple button locks that could be opened from the inside. “Unlock this.”
“She’s not in there.”
“I’m not going to argue with you, Samara. Unlock the damn door,” I demanded before turning and slamming my fist against it. “Nadia, get out here. We need to talk.”
Yelena shook her head. “He’s totally a Taurus.”
“Mikhail, she’s not in there,” Samara complained.
They were lying. Of course, she was in there. It was the only logical place for her to be. I had already searched most of the house. It made sense she’d be close by with her friends. She probably dashed in there the moment she heard my approach without my noticing. I banged on the door again. “Nadia, I’m giving you till the count of two.”
I waited. Staring at the doorknob, willing it to turn.
Nothing.
“One. Two,” I called out.
It was a simple plywood door with a wooden frame. It took little effort on my part to rip it off its hinges.
Samara and Yelena exchanged another look and said in unison, “Neanderthal caveman.”
The dark interior was empty. I shoved aside some of the stacked canvases just in case, but she wasn’t in there. I turned on them, fists clenched. My patience was at an end.
Taking a few steps in their direction, I warned, “You’re about to see just what a Neanderthal caveman I can be if you both don’t start talking.”
Yelena’s chin jutted out. “You’re wasting your breath. We will not tell you anything.”
I inhaled through my nose as I tried and failed to rein in my rising temper. Grasping my forearm, I slowly pushed up the sleeve on the black hoodie I was wearing. Then I pushed up the second one. I watched as Samara’s slim throat contracted as she swallowed. Yelena’s eyes flicked to the door. Unfortunately for them, I was blocking their exit.
I placed my right fist into my left palm. “I didn’t want to do this, but you ladies have left me no choice. Just remember you asked for this.” I reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone. I looked directly at Samara. “I’m calling your husband,” then shifted my gaze and pointed with my phone to Yelena, “and your fiancé, and I’m telling them what you’ve done.”
“No!” they cried in unison as they swept across the room and each grabbed me by the arm. Yelena tried to wrench the phone from my grasp, but I held it up high over their heads.
They took turns jumping against my chest, trying to reach it.
“What the fuck is going on here?” came Gregor’s booming voice.
He snatched Samara back by the waistband of her jeans, turning her around to face him. His brow lowered as he demanded an answer from her.
Damien’s gaze was equally thunderous as he stormed across the room and grabbed Yelena around the waist. He pulled her back against his chest. “What the hell do you think you’re doing touching another man?”
Yelena objected. “I wasn’t touching touching him. We were just trying to get his phone.”
Gregor placed a bent finger under Samara’s chin and lifted her gaze to meet his. His voice was low and controlled, which everyone in the room knew meant he was pissed. “May I ask why you wanted his phone?”
Samara bit her lip and looked at Yelena.
“Don’t look at her,” commanded Gregor, “answer me, malyshka.”
“We didn’t want him calling you.”
Gregor looked up at me. I answered his unspoken question. “Nadia is missing.”
“What?” Damien roared. He turned Yelena around to face him. He wrapped his arm around her waist and placed his hand on her jaw. “What do you know?”
“Nothing,” she protested.
“
What. Do. You. Know?” he repeated.
Yelena huffed. “I know she’s not here.”
Damien reached for his belt buckle. “Oh, moy padshiy angel, you know a great deal more than that, and you’re going to tell me.”
“She ran away,” offered Samara in a rush.
My brow furrowed. “What?”
She shrugged. “She ran away from home.”
“We called it… Operation….” her voice faded away as Damien took several steps forward, pinning her against the wall.
He placed a hand over her head and leaned down. “Finish your sentence.”
Yelena shook her head, her eyes wide. “I don’t want to.”
He stroked a fingertip down her cheek. “Oh, but I insist.”
Yelena coughed nervously. She lowered her gaze and whispered, “Operation… Fly the Coop.”
I paced away a few steps as I rubbed my jaw and tried to calm the rage that swelled deep within my chest. I turned back. “Are you telling me you helped her leave? She’s out there, God knows where, all alone less than a day after someone tried to fucking kill her?”
Samara stamped her foot, which would have been much more effective had she not been wearing thin ballet slippers. “It’s all of your fault. All three of you. If you hadn’t treated her like a piece of property to be bought and sold, this wouldn’t have happened.”
Gregor gave Samara a hard glare, which I’m sure promised punishing consequences later. “She couldn’t have gotten far. We’ll check the GPS trackers on the cars and the security cameras. We can also track her phone.”
Yelena grimaced. “Her phone is probably turned off by now.”
Damien exhaled harshly. “And why would that be?”
Yelena and Samara exchanged a look. Then Samara spoke. “Because she’s on a plane to London.”
Gregor reached for his phone. “I’ll call the hangar and have the plane made ready.”