Submit (The Underground Book 4)

by Becca Jameson

  No way was she about to respond to that after his promise to torture her some more if she didn’t get mute fast.

  He smiled. “Good girl. I’ll dominate you until you can’t see straight and then fuck you hard, but you have to concentrate on not uttering a word. If you do slip and say something, I’ll stop what I’m doing and flip you over and spank your ass until you come from that experience instead of my cock. We clear?”

  She nodded, squirming enough that she felt the tug on her hair.

  He chuckled. “I know you don’t see how that’s possible, but try me. I promise you can and will occasionally come from a spanking. I like to deliver them, and I won’t hesitate to swat your sweet ass from time to time to remind you who’s boss in the bedroom and how serious that role is.”

  She nodded again, her face flaming at the idea. Her pussy was so wet her panties were soaked.

  ∙•∙

  “Good.” He released her hair and lowered his hands to her sides to haul her tank top over her head. And then he kneeled in front of her and lowered her panties down her legs and off.

  Leaving her standing beside the bed naked, he tugged his T-shirt over his head and dropped it. He then bent down to remove his shoes and socks. His cock ached with the desire to be released from the confines of his jeans, but it would have to wait.

  Belinda’s face was tipped toward the floor, her thick, dark hair hanging around her to create a curtain.

  But he wasn’t about to let her hide from him. Not tonight.

  He turned around and padded toward the attached bathroom, returning moments later with a hairband. After spinning her around so she faced the bed, he gathered her hair at the base of her neck and secured it.

  Belinda didn’t make a sound.

  “Back up a step.”

  She did as he instructed, putting about two feet between her and the mattress.

  “Good. Bend at the waist and set your hands on the bed. You can rest your forehead on the mattress also, or turn your face and let your cheek settle there. Either way.”

  She obeyed instantly, making his cock harder by the second.

  He was asking a lot of her. And he knew she was horny and stressed from needing to come and craving his cock. She would get it, but not before he worked her into a frenzy of desire.

  Nikolav set his hands on her waist and tugged her back a few more inches so her face was on the edge of the bed, her elbows at her ears.

  He wanted her tits to hang loose.

  And then he nudged her knees apart with one of his. “Spread your legs wider.”

  She complied, but not enough.

  “Farther, Belinda. Don’t make me say it again.”

  She took a larger step out to both sides, leaving her pussy exposed.

  She was so fucking sexy in that position.

  Nikolav spun around and rummaged through his bag for the perfect toy—a black leather flogger.

  She breathed heavily, though he didn’t allow her to see what he held behind her.

  When he smoothed the dangling supple tips of leather across her ass cheeks, she lifted onto her toes and moaned.

  Yeah.

  That’s what he wanted to hear. If he could make his woman moan before she had any idea what was coming, he’d done his job well.

  She trusted him.

  And she knew he would make her hum.

  He let the tips of leather dance across her back until her spine dipped as she arched her shoulders and ass. Goose bumps rose on her flawless skin.

  Nikolav let the flogger rest over her right shoulder blade. “I’m going to flog you now, and you’re going to remain still while I do so. Don’t let fear take over. You know I won’t hurt you. You have my word. I will never injure you.”

  She nodded against the bed.

  “Good girl.” He stroked a hand across her shoulders and down her spine, and then he lifted the strands of leather and gently flicked them across the upper right side of her back.

  She flinched, a soft mewling escaping her lips.

  He smiled.

  This gorgeous, amazing, brilliant, intelligent, vibrant woman was his.

  He knew she was scared, but he also knew she wouldn’t back down from this challenge or any other he posed. She trusted him.

  She trusted him.

  God, she trusted him.

  Why did that surprise him so much?

  It wasn’t as if he’d been with other woman who didn’t trust him. He never let a woman down. Not in the bedroom or out. But receiving that gift from Belinda… It humbled him.

  He flicked the flogger again, harder this time, enough to get her attention. “You okay?”

  She nodded. Even in her heightened state she remembered to keep from speaking. He wouldn’t always ask her to be mute, but he knew it would drive her libido through the roof to do so and give her something to concentrate on while he brought her body alive in a way she couldn’t imagine.

  He took a step back and let the flogger land on her other shoulder blade next. She didn’t react as forcefully. The initial shock and concern about the unknown was fading. So he took advantage of that and started a pattern of swats that landed on first one side and then the other.

  Her shoulders drooped as she relaxed. And a low moan escaped her lips. She spread her legs wider. Subconsciously?

  He smiled. His stiff cock protested, and he adjusted it as much as he could behind the denim barrier.

  Several more strikes to her back and he lowered the flogger without warning and struck her sweet ass.

  Belinda rocked forward, a gasp escaping her mouth, and he knew it wasn’t from pain or fear. It was from arousal.

  He set the flogger on the bed near her head and shrugged out of his jeans hastily. And then he grabbed her hips to pull her back into position, standing directly behind her so his cock pressed into the crack of her ass as he situated her where he wanted.

  Again without warning, he reached around her front and stroked his fingers through her soft folds.

  She lifted onto her tiptoes, her neck arching, her head coming off the bed.

  But it was Nikolav who moaned this time. God, she was wet.

  It took all his strength to step back and pick up the black leather flogger again. He could easily have thrust his cock into her from behind and put them both out of their misery. But that wasn’t how he wanted tonight to play out. When he took her for the first time, she would be facing him, eyes on his. There would be no doubt in her mind who she belonged to.

  He didn’t intend to simply fuck her senseless. He meant to claim her in every way. Erase any other men from her brain. Ensure she was super clear she was his.

  With his teeth gritted and his cock bobbing stiffly in front of him, he set a hand on her lower back and flogged her gorgeous ass. Up and down. He covered every inch, not stopping as he watched her skin pinken.

  She moaned loudly, but he continued until he saw the signs she couldn’t hold back her orgasm anymore. She stiffened, her head lifting off the bed, her legs locking at the knees.

  He dropped the flogger, grabbed her hips, and spun her around while he lifted her onto the bed.

  Her mouth fell open in shock, her gaze darting around wildly as her heated pink skin hit the cool sheets.

  He hauled her to the edge and then leaned down to grab a condom from his bag. Seconds later, he was back, the foil wrapper between his teeth. He met her gaze, ripped the condom open, and dropped the foil. “Look at me,” he said as he rolled the rubber down his cock.

  She blinked, her face flushed, her breathing erratic. Her hands shook at her sides, and she clutched at the sheet.

  He tucked his hands under her knees and lifted them wide and high, lining his cock up with her center.

  She bit her lower lip and arched her back. Her glassy eyes were unseeing.

  “I’m too fucking aroused to go slow. I need to be inside you.”

  She nodded, trying to focus on him.

  “Hard and fast this time.” He grabbed the
backs of her wrists, leaning forward so her bent knees nestled in the crooks of his elbows. He anchored her.

  And then he thrust forward to the hilt.

  His own vision blurred.

  He fought to control his need to come from that one thrust.

  A deep groan filled the room. Hers? His? Did it matter?

  Gripping her hands in his, he shoved her legs higher. Wider.

  And then he eased almost out and thrust back into her tight warmth. “Jesus…” She was incredibly tight. And she felt amazing wrapped around his cock.

  As he pulled out a second time, he leaned forward and suckled a nipple, loving the taste of her skin on his tongue. He nipped the tip gently before switching to the other one. It was as delicious as its twin, and Belinda lifted her chest toward him.

  When he released her to slam back into her channel, he met her gaze. “You’re amazing.”

  She whimpered, but otherwise said nothing.

  Her rosy nipples were wet and pebbled. Stiff peaks.

  He tugged her closer to the edge of the bed, knowing she was hanging off the side, but wanting to ensure he ground the base of his cock into her clit with every thrust.

  And then he lost the ability to control his body. He plunged deep and pulled out as quickly, his teeth tight, his lips pursed.

  Why had he put this off?

  He needed her like his next breath. Maybe worse.

  And every glance at her face told him she was right with him. Totally in agreement.

  She moaned again, low and rhythmic, with every forward thrust. Her mouth opened wider. Even if she had wanted to speak, he doubted she could have formed the words.

  He couldn’t hold off much longer. Too many nights in her apartment. Too many nights holding her in his arms. Too many nights staring at her sweet body as she moved around her apartment tormenting him.

  He was only human.

  But she needed to come with him. He would never leave her behind. He was shocked she’d lasted this long. “Belinda, baby…”

  Her eyes fluttered. She swallowed and licked her lips.

  “Come for me.”

  Like the perfect submissive he knew she was, she came. Hard. Her entire body shook with the vibrations. She screamed out his name.

  That did it. He thrust into her one final deep time and held himself steady while his balls tightened and his cock released a week’s worth of built-up need.

  He couldn’t move when the pulses stopped, her pussy still fluttering around his dick. Instead, he let go of her hands and unfolded his arms from beneath her legs. With his cock still buried in her tightness, he leaned over her body and took her lips, his elbows landing on both sides of her head.

  He threaded his fingers in her hair as he deepened the kiss, never wanting to break contact with her.

  She kissed him back with all the passion he felt for her, her tongue dancing with his, tangling, urgent. And then she grabbed his biceps, her fingers digging into his muscles, telling him without words how affected she was by their lovemaking.

  When his legs grew weak and shaky, he finally broke the kiss, lifting his face a few inches to stare into her eyes. “Do you understand how much you mean to me?”

  “Yes.” That one word was breathy.

  He cupped her face, his fingers still tangled in her thick gorgeous hair. “Do you?”

  “Yes,” she repeated, nodding, her tongue darting out to lick her lips.

  He searched her expression, trying to make sure he read her correctly.

  He wasn’t kidding, and he hadn’t been wrong. If she left him now, he would be devastated. He’d just given her a piece of his heart that wasn’t retrievable.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Anton stared down at his father’s body, his gaze roaming all over the man’s face.

  In death he looked nothing like the vibrant man he’d been years ago.

  What did it matter? The man was gone.

  Anton had a hand in that. He kept telling himself they both knew the risks involved. The chances of Grigory surviving the experimental drug had been slim. Very slim.

  And Grigory had every right to make his own choices with regard to being injected with an experimental drug. He may have been sick, but his mind had been sharp to the end.

  Why his father had wanted to be laid out in a casket for his many local friends to mourn was anyone’s guess. But this was what the man requested, and so far Anton had granted his every request.

  Anton’s cell buzzed in his pocket, and he took a deep breath as he pulled it out to see who was calling.

  Jorge.

  He needed to take that call. He spun around while he connected, waiting until he was out of the room and had eased the door closed behind him to speak. “Update me.” He wandered farther down the hall of the silent mortuary, trying to keep his voice down.

  Jorge ignored Anton’s request and asked his own question. “How are the arrangements coming?”

  “He’s still dead, if that’s what you’re asking.” No sense being anything less than blunt.

  Jorge sighed. “I’m so sorry, sir.”

  “Yeah, it was inevitable, I suppose.” Although perhaps if they had gotten to this stage in the drug development a tiny bit sooner, things might have ended differently.

  After over twenty years of research, they were within weeks of completion, and Grigory hadn’t lived to see the results. Or reap the benefits.

  “If it helps any, I think I narrowed down the common denominator between the two case studies, Number Thirteen and Number Seventeen.”

  Anton lowered himself onto a chair on the landing outside his father’s bedroom. “Give it to me.”

  “Hepatitis A.”

  “What?”

  “I know. It’s crazy. I stumbled upon it by accident from hours of staring at the data and trying to come up with a connection. So obscure. Both Haley Sullivan and Number Seventeen have had Hep A.”

  “And who the fuck cares?”

  “The drug cares, apparently. It might be adhering to the antibodies, using them as a carrier to be transported around the body.”

  “Please tell me you’re shitting me.” He rubbed his temple as he spoke.

  “Wish I was. It was right under our nose this entire time. So simple no one saw it. I went back to study the blood work of every test subject so far. None of them have had Hepatitis A.”

  “Except Haley and Number Seventeen.”

  “Exactly.”

  Anton sighed. “Why did so many kids survive the initial drug trials in the late eighties?”

  “All of them had Hep A. Not uncommon. It doesn’t always have symptoms. It’s easily transmitted through tainted water, poor sewage systems. I’m sure no orphanage in Russia in the eighties had strict policies about hygiene—washing hands after changing diapers for example.

  “Without sanitation practices, nearly every kid in any orphanage would have had Hep A by a young age. Any that didn’t were undoubtedly the ones who didn’t survive the initial experimental shot.”

  “Hep A,” Anton repeated. “And my father?”

  “He did have the antibodies for Hep A. In his case, I have to assume he was just too sick to make a comeback. The drug helps people stay healthy and fight off foreign substances in the blood, but there’s no evidence to suggest it can cure something already present. And certainly no evidence it could prevent something catastrophic like heart failure, stroke, cancer…”

  “Lou Gehrig’s disease,” Anton added.

  “Yeah. Even if Grigory had received this treatment years ago, I can’t predict with certainty it would have prevented this from happening any differently.”

  But that risk was exactly what Anton Yenin was gambling his entire life on. Because though he hadn’t shared his medical records with a single soul, including Grigory or Jorge, he knew he too was a carrier of the gene that caused ALS. It was only a matter of time before he developed symptoms.

  He needed the drug to work. His own life depended on it.
>
  “Thanks, Jorge. I’ll be back in Chicago in a few days. I need to settle things here a bit first. Hoping to return Wednesday night.”

  “Understood. What do you want me to do with Number Seventeen?”

  “What are you doing with him now?”

  “Keeping him sedated in a sort of twilight state. He has been given injections of every disease we could get our hands on. Nothing touches him. And I don’t need Haley Sullivan to confirm her body would react the same way. It’s a forgone conclusion.”

  “Okay, I’ll call off the dogs on her for now, but only because there’s little I can do from out of town.” It still got in his craw that not only had she escaped but Mikhail Dudko had a hand in it. The ungrateful bastard needed to learn a lesson. All six of the guys did. Anton made them who they were today. They had some gall turning away from him to fight for that asshole Abram Gromov.

  As soon as this was all over, he would teach them all a lesson—including Gromov. The fucker was Russian. He should know better than to go against a fellow Russian to steal his men or any other thing.

  Maybe the man had turned a blind eye to Anton’s side operations for years, but that didn’t excuse his behavior.

  No. The anger over the loss of Dmitry, Leo, Mikhail, Nikolav, Ivan, and Sergei didn’t lessen over time. Anton would exact revenge.

  But first he needed to wrap things up in New York. And then he needed to check his own labs. If he hadn’t had Hepatitis A, he would make sure he got it and soon. Step two—injecting himself with the drug before it was too late. The clock was ticking.

  The moment Anton ended the call with Jorge, his phone rang again.

  Dayton.

  He glanced around to ensure no one was listening to him and took the call. “Give me an update.”

  “That reporter is meddling. She knows too much.”

  “Fuck.”

  “Figured you’d say that.”

  “I thought you told me she was gagged. The FBI doesn’t want her printing this story.”

  “True.” Dayton chuckled as if this were a laughing matter. “But journalists aren’t known for being held down for long. It’s only a matter of time before more shit leaks out than you’d like. She’s gone to work every day at Chicago Multimedia since the gag order. I’ve managed to hack into her computer. She’s done her homework. She knows things about you even I didn’t know.