Made Men 5: Dmitri's Denial (Siren Publishing Everlasting Classic)

by Dixie Lynn Dwyer

  “Let me pleasure you.”

  She wiggled from his arms. He slowly let her down his body. She cupped his balls and slid a hand along his cock, and he closed his eyes, and relished in the feel of her stroking him with her small, delicate hands. He gripped her hair and guided her as she lowered her mouth to his cock and began to suck him. When it got to be too much, he pulled on her shoulders.

  “Stop. I want to be inside of your pussy when I come.”

  He lifted her up as she released his cock. She straddled his hips, and he aligned his cock with her cunt and slowly began to press into her. He cupped her cheeks, and she grabbed onto his wrists.

  “Tell me you belong to me, Yanna,” he said to her.

  She stared into his eyes. “I belong to you.”

  He rocked into her to the hilt. His strokes began slowly, deeply, and then the sight of her luscious breasts, her parted lips, her glazed-over eyes, and her natural beauty did him in.

  “Mine. All fucking mine.” He pounded into her cunt, gripped her shoulders, and stroked into her until the feelings of fear, uncertainty lessened. When she moaned and came, he followed, and then she hugged him tight, kissed his shoulder, his neck, and then over his scars and tattoos. He cupped her cheeks and jaw.

  “Mine. You are mine.” He pressed a kiss to her mouth and held her until the water began to cool, and he knew it was time to get ready for dinner.

  * * * *

  Yanna stared at herself in the mirror. She wore a very sexy black dress with a low V cut into the center that showed off her deep cleavage. The back dipped low, too, but just covered her tattoo. She stepped into her heels and then thought about the shower and Dmitri. She feared giving in to the desires, the lust she felt for the man. So badly she wanted to tell him yes, to take her ass, to go where no man had gone before in the hopes of making him feel what she felt. But that was probably stupid, especially after her conversation with Carlos.

  Maybe she and Dmitri had the same reservations. Well, hers were fears. His may have been reservations because he had no fears. The man was incredible, unemotional, hidden, guarded, and demanding. It all aroused her, made her care for him and want more from him. Was this a waste of time? Should she just see this for what it was? Lust, convenience, desire? It felt so good when he held her, when he made love to her and claimed her, saying she belonged to only him. She felt it. She wanted to give him everything she could. Why hold back? Why have regrets when it might not last? Really, would it matter if she let him claim every part of her even when the time came for them to part? Didn’t what happened between them now matter most? She regretting telling him no in the shower but decided the next time she would tell him yes.

  Then she got emotional and scared again. She closed her eyes and she saw Puento.

  What he would do to her if he ever got his hands on her, knowing that she was intimate with Dmitri or learning that he claimed her completely?

  She shivered, and she saw and practically felt the gun to her temple. “I own you forever, Rayanna. No one else ever, or they will die, and so will you.”

  She opened her eyes and willed the thoughts away. She needed to be strong, not weak. Dmitri would want a woman who had a backbone, not one who teared up and cried at the toss of a hat or a bad memory. He was a made man, a powerful man, and she needed to look the part of a strong, powerful woman despite how fearful she really was.

  She slid her hand along the material of the cocktail dress, knowing they were going to an upscale restaurant and lounge. Her platinum-blonde hair stood out against the black dress. She wore it up in a fancy style that exposed her shoulders, her neck, her chest and back, making them all accessible to Dmitri. He would make his possessiveness of her publicly known, and she would allow it, savor it, and not worry about when it all would end and when he would be done with her. She was a survivor, and survivors were stronger than what most expected them to be.

  As she headed out of the bedroom, all the men were gathered around, waiting and dressed up in suits. Grisha stopped talking to Dmitri, his gaze roamed over her, and then he stepped away along with the others. Dmitri looked her over, and she wondered if he approved. He gestured for her to turn around so he could inspect her. When she did, he stopped her with her back facing him, wrapped an arm around her waist, pressed a palm to her belly, and kissed her neck and shoulder. He inhaled against her skin, and she closed her eyes and felt faint, the attraction was so instant and strong.

  “You look incredible. Men will be looking at you all evening.”

  She turned slightly to glance up at him and then lifted her palm to his cheek and turned toward him. “I wear it for you, not for anyone else,” she said. His dark eyes narrowed, and he pressed his lips to hers softly, gently.

  He slid a hand to her hand, took it, brought it to his lips, and nodded. “Let’s go,” he said and squeezed her hand, the only indication other than that lustful, appreciative look in his eyes that her comment was exactly what he wanted to hear.

  * * * *

  Dmitri couldn’t stop touching Yanna, looking at her, admiring her beauty and the sound of her voice. He had been right, and men looked at her, watched her with lust in their eyes. He felt frantic to get her alone and away from prying eyes. The thought of another man touching her, even wanting her, was driving him insane. He didn’t know how to handle it, but then Rayanna talked about work, her family, and losing her parents at a young age.

  “How about you, Dmitri? Any family, parents, siblings?” She took a sip from her glass of wine.

  “Some family. I, too, lost my parents young.” He looked away from her.

  “I’m sorry. I guess this is another rule for me to learn,” she said, and he turned back to look at her. She held his gaze.

  “I don’t speak of my family, of my childhood. Ever.”

  “That bad?” she whispered.

  He hesitated and then found himself responding.

  “That bad.” He raised his hand for the check.

  * * * *

  The ride back to the apartment was quiet. She had mixed emotions, yet for some reason she didn’t want to push Dmitri away like he was doing to her. She was starting to think that the man was just used to being secretive and untrusting. He trained himself to be this way, and who was she to try and change him?

  When she looked at him, she didn’t see all that he was capable of in the way that Carlos had described him. Instead, she felt the attraction, the deep connection to him in some way and for reasons neither of them was willing to talk about or analyze. So when he got her into the apartment and she stood by the window, looking out toward the city and the river, she closed her eyes when he clutched her from behind. She heard doors close and didn’t need to look to see that the men had disappeared to their posts and the other rooms, giving them privacy. She didn’t even mind them knowing that Dmitri took her, made love to her, and made her moan and cry out his name. She felt sort of possessive of him.

  He touched his lips to her shoulder and her neck. She shivered with anticipation and let her arms fall to her sides. She knew he loved her submissive and accepting of whatever he wanted. It aroused her.

  “Did you enjoy dinner and the evening?” he whispered against her ear while gliding his knuckles up and down her arm and then down her spine.

  “Yes, Dmitri. Thank you.”

  He slid one strap of her dress off her shoulder. It fell, but the fullness of her breast kept it from falling the rest of the way. He used his mouth and then his teeth to push it lower.

  “I never want you out alone. Not without myself or my men. Ever.”

  He swirled his tongue into the cup of the dress against her breast and nipple. She moaned softly.

  He gripped her hip tight.

  “Ever, understood?” he asked.

  “Yes, Dmitri,” she replied, almost too aroused and needy to even speak. The man did this to her. He made her mind weak, her body even weaker, and any possibility of her putting up a wall was diminishing with every touch and every
command. The man was lethal, addicting, and her demise.

  She felt the zipper on the side of her dress come undone, and she looked to the right to be certain that none of the men were there.

  “Only you and me. They left the room but aren’t far. I want to undress you here, in front of the window with this view, the moonlight, before I take you to bed and ravish this sexy body,” he said to her as he unzipped the dress.

  It pooled to the floor, and she stood there in only a pair of thin black thong panties and her black high heels.

  Dmitri walked in front of her but slid his palm along her ass, then gave it a light slap.

  “My God, if any of those men could see you undressed, I would have to kill them to keep them away.”

  He slid against her, letting the butt of his gun and holster scrape lightly against her bare skin. She gazed at him, and he lifted her chin with his fingers and looked her over.

  “Perfection,” he said.

  Her nipples hardened to tiny buds. Her pussy clenched with need.

  “I need you, Dmitri.”

  “I know you do, and I’m going to give you what you want. Will you give me what I want?” he asked.

  He stepped closer, cupped her breast and kissed the corner of her mouth while trailing a finger along her spine and down the crack of her ass. She tensed and then exhaled.

  “Tonight, you let me claim every inch of you.”

  “Yes, Dmitri. I want to.”

  He stopped touching her and looked down into her eyes. He squinted. “No uncertainty? You’ll let me have all of you?”

  “Yes.”

  He kissed her tenderly, then lifted her up, released her lips, and carried her to the bedroom. She clung to him, kissing and sucking his neck and his cheeks. Then he closed the door and set her on her feet.

  She reached for his tie, removed it. He slid his dress jacket off and then undid his pants. He reached for the gun and holster, and she stepped back, watching him, admiring all the muscles, tattoos, and scars along his magnificent body. She felt so alive, so enthralled with this man she was shaking with need.

  He went to the side dresser and tossed something onto the bed.

  “Every inch of you.” He cupped her neck and face and kissed her as he brought her to the bed and lowered her to her back.

  “Arms up above your head. Don’t move them.”

  She did as he commanded. Her pussy leaked. Her breasts ached to be touched, and she shook as he slid her panties off of her and then began to feast on her body.

  “I love the way your hair smells, the scent of your skin, the feel of you,” he told her as he inhaled against her hair and neck and then sucked a sensitive cord on her neck.

  “Dmitri. I want to touch you.”

  “No. After. Right now I want you like this—submissive, sensual, needy for my cock to penetrate every hole.”

  He shifted up, bringing his cock to her mouth as he lay over her. She struggled to get it into her mouth, and then she licked the tip and opened for him. He held himself above her, over her head and chest, and slowly stroked his cock into her mouth.

  Lying here like this, with her arms above her head, his thick, hard body over hers and stroking his cock into her mouth, made her feel helpless and yet capable, like some seductress, especially as he moaned and slowed his pace in and out of her mouth. She sucked firmly and moaned deeper, knowing the vibrations made his cock harder, and then he abruptly pulled out. She gasped, lips wet, heart pounding.

  “You’re a goddess. I won’t come yet. I know where I want to come.”

  He slid down her body, and when she went to reach for him, he stopped and gave her a firm expression.

  “Mine. I’m in charge. I own you,” he told her firmly.

  She nodded, kept her arms above her head, and then shivered, ticklish, as he explored her tattoo and then her groin with lips and tongue.

  She laughed. “Dmitri,” she scolded.

  “Ticklish, huh? Good to know,” he said but with no smile.

  Maybe a slight smirk, or perhaps she imagined it or wanted to see that. She stared at his mouth, his tongue, and then at his tattoos and muscles as they flexed and he glided between her legs and took a taste of her cream. She felt him glide his tongue back and forth and then press it into her cunt. She lifted her hips and he squeezed her hip bone, keeping her in place as he tortured her with tongue and then fingers. When he lifted her thighs over his shoulders and began to lick her pussy to her asshole, she nearly shot up off the bed.

  “Delicious,” he said between feasting.

  Back and forth he aroused both holes, had her panting and thrusting and anticipating what he would do next and how it would feel to have his cock in her ass. She felt the cream drip, and then he shifted up, gripped his cock, and thrust into her cunt balls-deep. She exhaled and went to move her hands but remembered his orders. She looked up at him, saw the satisfied expression on his face while he gripped her hips and pounded into her cunt. Her breasts bobbed and swayed, and she moaned and came.

  “I need to touch you.”

  “Not yet. I want you giving me all of you. Every inch,” he said.

  She moaned louder, felt so needy. She kept coming.

  “Fuck, I’m not going to last.”

  He pulled out, pulled her up into his arms, and kissed her tenderly and then roughly. He was feeling what she was. She just knew it. So she tightened her thighs against his hips, counterthrusted against him, and kissed him back. He pulled back and stared down into her eyes. She was breathing rapidly and so was he. He looked fierce, barbaric, and it had her dripping more cream.

  “On your hands and knees. Offer me that ass, Yanna. Now.”

  He turned her around onto her hands and knees. She was nervous, aroused, needy, and she glanced over her shoulder, bent forward, and held his gaze. He tapped a tube of something in his hand.

  He raised one eyebrow at her. He wanted her to say it, to ask for it.

  “Take me, Dmitri. Fuck my ass like no other man ever has before.” His eyes darkened, and he stepped between her legs and thrust fingers into her cunt from behind. She gripped the comforter and rocked her hips. When she felt something cool against her asshole, she tensed up, but then his fingers left her cunt, making her moan in complaint.

  Before she could speak, fingers and lube slid into her ass. She cried out. “Oh God, it burns.”

  “You’re so fucking tight, Yanna. I need to get you very, very wet so I don’t hurt you. I’ll never hurt you.”

  She felt more lube being pressed into her ass. His thrusts got faster, and then he added a second digit. She was moaning, feeling some sort of deep sensation in her core when he pulled out his fingers and replaced them with his cock. He kissed her shoulder as the tip of his cock began to push into her ass.

  “Mine. Forever.”

  He bit gently into her shoulder, taking the sensation away from the pinch to her ass for a moment, and then he shoved all the way in. They both moaned deeply, loudly.

  “Vozlyublennaya.”

  He spoke in Russian, she thought, and she didn’t know what he said as he went on and on, grunting, saying things to her in his language. It was too much and she cried out another release, then felt him smooth his fingers around her waist to her cunt and thrust them into her in sync with his cock thrusting into her ass.

  They were moaning, and as his moans and grunts got harder, deeper, so did his strokes. He was fucking her ass good and hard along with fingering her cunt, and then she came again, and he followed, howling words in Russian and shaking behind her.

  She lowered to the bed as he eased out of her pussy and her ass. He gripped her hips and kissed along her shoulders, her spine, and then to her thighs. When he walked away, she felt almost regretful, as if maybe all he wanted from her was to claim every part of her and truly own her.

  Tears stung her eyes, and then she felt the bed dip and the warm washcloth against her ass. He gently rolled her onto her back, cleaned her, and dried her. She was shocked,
and he was too upon seeing the tears in her eyes. He slid over her and cupped her cheeks.

  “I didn’t hurt you? Tell me I didn’t hurt you?”

  “No. No, you didn’t. It was amazing, Dmitri. Amazing.” She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, kissed him, and hugged him close. She wouldn’t tell him what she thought. He had proved her negative, fearful mind wrong and had shown her in actions that he did care, and it wasn’t just sex. She could love this man. She could love him even if he only reciprocated that love or care with simple gestures like this.

  As he held her close and they lay in bed together, she caressed his shoulders and his chest. He held her hand and then looked at her.

  “You looked upset when I returned with the washcloth. Did you think I left you after what we shared?”

  She swallowed hard. She had hoped that he hadn’t noticed or just forgot about it.

  “I guess I was feeling more insecure than I knew,” she whispered and stroked along the intricate lines of his tattoos.

  “I am not Puento.”

  She tightened up. “I know that.”

  “Do you? Because you look at me sometimes like you’re deep in thought and like you’re waiting for me to do something to hurt you. Why?”

  She hesitated.

  “Tell me how he scared you. What he did to you. Your secret.” He stroked her cheek.

  “Why do you need to know?”

  “I care about you, Yanna. What we shared tonight has bound us together. I want to know why you are so scared of him even now when I can ensure that he will never get his hands on you.”

  She swallowed hard. “He’s a very evil man. He insisted on control, and when he didn’t like something I said or did, or he wanted to discipline me, he would treat me badly.”

  “How?”

  “He would be rough. He would shove me, grab my arm tight, whisper mean things into my ear.” Tears filled her eyes.

  “He struck you? Was abusive to you?”

  She nodded.

  “Why did you stay so long? With your family and the connections, why?”