Four under the Mistletoe: A MFMM Menage Romance (Christmas Billionaire Menage Series Book 2)

by Tia Siren

  “Joe, Michael's gone missing. What should I do?”

  “How long has he been gone?”

  “About a couple of hours.”

  “Well as a police officer I can tell you that the police won't do anything until he's been missing for twenty-four hours.”

  “But you know what he's like. He can't look after himself for that long. Jesus, I'm worried sick.”

  A day later Michael still hadn't arrived home, and the police sent an army of officers to look for him.

  “Is he given to walking off on his own?” Detective Jordan asked.

  “Never. He knows he should stay within the boundaries of the house,” Cassy said.

  “Well, my men are looking for him. If he's around the area, we'll find him.”

  *****

  “What the fuck?” Igor said. “Jesus Christ. Who the fuck would do something like that to a kid?”

  “What?” Dima asked.

  “Look, here on TV.”

  Dima listened as the reporter told his audience that the late Douglas Solomon's autistic son had been kidnapped. A ransom note had been sent to Cassy Solomon, along with a severed ear.

  “Albanians,” Dima said. “They're ruthless fuckers. They don't give a shit who they hurt. How much money do they want?”

  “Ten million. How do you know they are Albanians?”

  “They always cut people's ears off.”

  They continued to watch, and after a few minutes there was a press conference with the police and Cassy.

  “Is that Cassy Solomon? Jesus, she's hot. I wouldn't mind a night in the sack with her,” Igor said.

  “Stop thinking about your dick all the time. Can't you see how upset she is?” Dima said.

  “She'd feel a lot better impaled by me. That's for sure.”

  Dima laughed. “You're a disgrace.”

  “I love women. You know that.”

  “Have you ever fucked a woman more than once?” Dima asked.

  Igor had to think. “Er...no. I don't think so. Motherfucker, look!” he exclaimed as the camera panned around the room full of journalists. “Murat Hyka. Did you see him?”

  “No,” Dima said disappointedly.

  “Right under their noses. I'm gonna make a call,” Igor said.

  “Not to the cops. No way.”

  “But that fat Albanian asshole was sitting among the journalists. I bet he's got something to do with it. I hate that bastard. He's a dog. Have you forgotten what he did to us?”

  “No.”

  “That woman, what's her name? Cassy. She's in a heap of trouble if Murat Hyka has got anything to do with this.” Igor jumped up from the sofa and stretched his considerable frame. He was well over six feet tall and a solid mass of muscle. “He's got half the police in his pocket. They'll never bring charges.”

  “So why do you care?” Dima said.

  “She's hot, and she looks upset. I want to help her.”

  “You're fucking mad. Would you go to war with Murat Hyka just to get into her panties?”

  Igor looked at his brother. “Yes, I think I would. Come on, Dima, he's a jerk, and so are all the guys who work for him. This is a good chance to eradicate him once and for all.”

  *****

  Cassy badly needed fresh air. She'd been sitting inside with a police liaison officer for four days, and she felt stifled by the atmosphere. Her phone calls were being monitored in case the kidnappers rang.

  Outside, she walked past her parked Mercedes and noticed a piece of paper under the wiper. She picked it up.

  Call me. It's about your brother. Don't involve the cops.

  Te: 0178654218767

  Cassy looked around nervously to make sure nobody had seen her. She walked across the lawn, stood behind a tree, and took out her cell phone.

  “Cassy Solomon. What do you know about my brother?”

  “I think he's being held by a group of Albanians.”

  “Who are you?”

  “My name is Igor Ivanovich. I'm a real estate developer.”

  “And what makes you think he's being held by Albanians?”

  “I saw the press conference. There was a man I know in the audience. He's an Albanian criminal. Did you know that Albania's are well-known for cutting off the ears of their victims?” Cassy felt nauseous as the image of the severed ear came to mind. “If you put those two things together, I think you're talking about an Albanian gang.”

  “So what is this man's name?”

  “You don't need to know. All I can tell you is that the cops will never solve this because he's got all the top cops in his pocket. They all get huge sums of money from him to turn a blind eye to his activities.”

  “So what do you suggest I do?”

  “Meet me. I will explain what we are going to do. Okay?”

  “But I don't understand. Why you are doing this? What business is it of yours?” Cassy said.

  “Because I hate the motherfucker. He's the worst person God ever made.”

  “I'm not sure. How do I know you are who you say you are?”

  “Tell you what, why don't we meet at Grand Central in the middle of rush hour? There will be thousands of people around. That way you'll feel safe.”

  *****

  Cassy waited at Chirping Chicken in Grand Central. She'd never seen Igor before, but when he walked into the restaurant, she knew it was him. On the phone he'd spoken with a Russian accent, and the man who came into the restaurant looked Russian. Not only did he look Russian, but he was also extremely good looking. Tall, well built, cropped black hair, a fine-boned Slavic face, and the deepest blue eyes.

  He was even more impressed with Cassy than he had been when he'd seen her on TV. She was wonderfully beautiful, with green eyes, long dark hair, and the softest-looking skin.

  “You know, I shouldn't be here. If the cops knew, they'd probably charge me with something,” she said anxiously.

  “Fuck the cops. They won't help you. They haven't got the balls to fight Murat Hyka.”

  “And you have?” she asked, slightly sarcastically.

  “Yes. My brother and I have got a score to settle with him.”

  “You told me you’re a real estate dealer.”

  “Listen, we buy and sell apartment buildings in New York and London. I came to America when I was eighteen, seeking my fortune. I have done a lot of bad shit, but now we're trying to stay above the law. I'm gonna get your brother back and put an end to this asshole. Okay?”

  “And what do you want in return?” Cassy said.

  “I don't want money. If I bring Michael home to you, I want you. Your debt will be one night with me.”

  Cassy looked at him as if he'd gone mad. “You are joking, right?”

  “No, I'm not. One night for your brother. That's all.”

  “Thanks, but I don't play with my virtue. Now get the hell away from me.”

  When Cassy got home, she rang Judy's dad, who was a sergeant at NYPD. She asked him to do a check on Murat Hyka and Igor Ivanovich. Later, he told her Murat was an Albanian businessman with suspected links to drug trafficking and protection. His information on Igor was that he was a Russian real estate dealer with interests in New York and London. She was surprised to learn his net worth was over three billion dollars. His record was clean, although he had been taken in for questioning a few times regarding threatening behavior toward public officials and bankers.

  *****

  “Are you Michael?” Igor asked. Michael nodded and put his hands back over his ears. “It's okay. I've come to take you back to Cassy.” Michaels' eyes lit up at the sound of her name.

  “Bad. Bad,” he said as he looked at the two men on the floor, both of them with their necks broken.

  “Come on, Igor, hurry up. Untie him and let's get out of here,” Dima said. He looked up the cellar stairs to the light, waiting for more men to appear. He gripped his gun more tightly, peering to see if there were any moving shadows.

  Igor pulled Michael along with him as they
climbed the cellar steps and arrived in the kitchen of the seedy detached house in Queens. Dima looked at the other two men they had immobilized. One of them was lying face down in a pool of blood on the kitchen floor, the other slumped across the kitchen table, his head turned at a grotesque angle.

  Dima reversed the car out of the driveway and drove away from the house where Michael had been held.

  “You know we're going to have to finish what we started, don't you?” Dima said. “We're going to have to go after Hyka. When he finds out we've done this, he'll come for us.”

  “Don't worry. We can handle that little prick,” Igor said.

  Michael began to scream. It was high pitched and very loud. “It's okay.” Igor put his arm around Michael. “Michael, we're taking you home. To Cassy.” Michael went silent again.

  Dima drove slowly across the city. The last thing he wanted to do was get pulled over by the cops for speeding with Michael in the back of the car. When they arrived at Pearlington Avenue, Michael began to recognize the houses.

  “Home,” he said in the manner of a small child.

  “Yes, home,” Igor said. “Pull up here. Any closer to the house and they may see us.” Dima pulled up on the quiet road three hundred yards away from the Solomon residence. “Okay, Michael, go home.” Igor opened the car door and watched as Michael began to walk as fast as he could toward the house he shared with Cassy.

  When Michael reached the security guard at the gate, Igor and Dima gave a sigh of relief as the guard put his arm around Michael and took him through the gate.

  Cassy was sitting at her desk in front of the window of what used to be her father's study. As she read emails expressing sympathy about Michael's kidnapping, something outside caught her eye. She glanced up and screamed. She rushed out of the room, down a corridor, and through the hallway. The front door almost came off its hinges, such was the force with which she threw it open.

  “Michael,” she cried. “Oh my god, Michael.” She almost knocked him from his feet in her enthusiasm to hug him. She noticed both his ears were intact. “How did you get here?” she asked.

  “Nice men,” Michael said.

  The police officer who was at the house to monitor phone calls came out and scratched his head. “In all my years, I've never seen anything like this before,” he said.

  That evening after the doctor had checked Michael's health and declared him well, Cassy rang the number that had been left on her car.

  “Was it you?” she asked after Igor answered.

  “Yes. But no cops. Just be glad you've got Michael back.”

  “Thank you. I don't know what to—”

  “Listen to me. We had to be heavy handed to get Michael out. In all probability, Hyka will turn violent and seek revenge. You need to take Michael to a safe place.”

  “Where?”

  “I have a house in London. I'll send a car at seven in the morning.”

  *****

  “Is this yours?” Cassy asked as she looked across the limousine to the private jet. Igor nodded.

  “We'll be in London before you know it. Is Michael okay with planes?”

  “He's flown before. I don't think it will be a problem.”

  “Found me,” Michael said as he looked at Igor.

  “Yes. We found you,” Igor said with a grin on his face.

  In London, Cassy couldn't believe how large the house was. It was just outside the city in a leafy suburb. Because of the time difference, they'd arrived in the evening and it was just getting dark, but Cassy could see enough of the property to know that Igor was a very wealthy man.

  “He's fast asleep,” Cassy said when she came back downstairs. “You've given Michael a lovely room.”

  “The best in the house. In the morning, he'll be able to see the horses running around in the fields if he looks out of his window.”

  Cassy sat on a huge sofa in the middle of the sitting room and looked at Igor. What had brought him to be so kind to them? He didn't seem to want anything, but that could change, she thought. The police had asked a thousand questions about how Michael had suddenly arrived home, but she'd told them she didn't know. Maybe the kidnappers had gotten cold feet, she'd suggested. She'd told the cops she was going to London for a few days to rest.

  “Why? Why did you do this for us?”

  “Do you honestly want to know?” he asked as he handed her a glass of wine.

  “Yes.”

  “Because I'm a sucker for a beautiful woman. I saw you on TV and saw how fucking upset you were. And I thought maybe I could get inside your panties.”

  “You are really strange. Do you know that?” she said. “Why go to all that trouble just to get me into bed?”

  “Well, put it this way: If I just turned up on your doorstep and demanded to fuck you, what would you have said?”

  “I would have called the cops.”

  “Jesus, Cassy. You're going to have to learn that the cops are assholes. They’re all on the take.”

  “In Russia maybe, but not in America.”

  “You are so naive. Anyway, what about you and me now? Will you fuck me or not?”

  Cassy sipped her wine and looked at him. She was sorely tempted. The mix of danger and kindness that oozed from him was proving to be a powerful aphrodisiac. What harm could it do? He was hot, and it had been a long time since she'd had sex. Michael was safe, and Igor seemed to be protecting her. Maybe she owed him, she thought. What harm could it do?

  “So what did you like about me when you saw me on TV?” she asked.

  “All of you.”

  “Come here,” she said.

  He got up and walked to the sofa. When he stood in front of her, she could see the bulge of his penis through his pants. It was growing as she looked at it. She stood up and looked up into his eyes.

  “Okay. Take me to bed,” she said

  Igor picked her up as if she was a feather and carried her upstairs to a large bedroom. She gasped when he threw her onto the bed. Her skirt rode up her legs, and he looked at the shape of them.

  “You are one fucking beautiful woman. I'm gonna really enjoy screwing you.”

  “I suppose you'll have me begging for more,” Cassy said humorously.

  “Yes,” Igor said seriously. “You will be begging me to fuck you more often.”

  When he took off his shirt, Cassy was impressed by his hard muscles and the six-pack stomach. “I train a lot,” he said when he noticed her gaze. “Come on, get you clothes off.”

  “Er...can I have a little time in the bathroom? I need to shower,” she said.

  He reached down and picked her up again. The bathroom was en-suite. The walls were covered in gray granite and the floor was heated. He put her down and kissed her. His tongue probed into her, deep and demanding. She hooked her arms around his neck, stood on her tiptoes, and kissed him more passionately than she had kissed any man before. He smelled of a mix of expensive aftershave and his natural manly scent.

  “Give me a few minutes and I'll come back to the bedroom,” she said.

  “No. I'm gonna strip you, wash you, and take you, all here in the shower. Then I'm gonna fuck you all night in bed.”

  He put his hands on the top button of her blouse and unfastened it. She put her hands on his to stop him. “Sorry. I'm a bit...”

  He kissed her again. “Don't talk. Just relax. Let yourself go.”

  She remained still as he unbuttoned the soft material and pushed it off her. Her bra was of the highest quality and the silk felt soft under his touch as he ran his hands over her breasts.

  When he dropped to his knees, she tried to pull him up. She knew what he wanted. She wanted it too, but it was much too soon. He ignored her, pushed her skirt up, and pulled her panties down to her knees. When he put his face to her private parts, she closed her eyes and turned her head to the side. His strong hands gripped her buttocks and pulled her onto his mouth.

  Cassy cried out when his tongue darted between her legs and lightly tou
ched her clitoris. She stroked his head and opened her legs wider as his tongue probed and played, gently at first and then more firmly.

  “Oh god,” she said. “That's so intimate.” He reached up and pulled her skirt and panties down. She was suddenly aware of how naked and vulnerable she was. “Take off your clothes,” she said.

  He stood up, unbuttoned his pants, and slid them down over his bronzed legs. His penis sprang up; it flipped against her thigh. He took her hand and led her to the shower. The water was warm and gushed over her body, making her relax. Again he knelt and used his tongue on her. She leaned against the wall and pushed her hips forward. He held her thighs and greedily lapped at her. The water cascaded down her body, over her pubic hair and onto his face. He stroked her belly and felt the muscles, hard and tense under her soft skin. Soon she was panting and her legs were trembling. She needed his support. She pulled him up to his feet, put her arms around his neck, and whispered to him.

  “Fuck me.”

  He lifted her up, and she wrapped her legs around his torso. She buried her face in his shoulder. In one swift motion, he was inside her. She gasped and moaned and threw her head up as his hard thrusts shook her whole body. He was long and thick, and the feeling of him filling her was wonderful. She wondered how long his strength would last, but she was light, and he had no trouble holding her.

  Eventually, he put her down, twisted her around, and entered her from behind. As he did so, he hit her G-spot. He hit it time after time as he thrust, taking her breath away, driving her forward.

  “Harder,” she pleaded.

  He held her hips, bent her forward until she was almost touching her toes, and rammed her as hard as he was able. Cassy turned into a shaking heap of feminine flesh as her orgasm reached her. She almost collapsed, but he held her. As her breathing returned to normal, he began to soap her body. She leaned against him, feeling his hard body against hers, exhausted by his onslaught. His touch was tender as his fingers soaped all of her. When he'd rinsed her, he led her from the shower and wrapped her in a warm bath towel. All the time he cared for her, his penis remained erect. His desire for her was great, and his body wasn't going to rest until he'd finished deep inside her.

  On the bed, he opened her legs and entered her as she was lying on her back. He was gentler now, kissing her, stroking her face.