by Zoe Blake
Stupid girl.
I had actually started to believe Damien cared and was truly trying to protect me.
He just wanted to use me like all the rest.
Now that he understood why I made the bets, he’d want to know how. The how was where the real skill came in… where my method came in. He was no better than the Italians or the Columbians or even my stepfather. They all just wanted something from me. No! Damien was worse. He didn’t just want my betting skills; he wanted my body, as well. And if I let him have it, soon he would take my soul.
I would have run straight back into the life I was trying to escape.
My first instinct to run three years ago had been correct.
I needed to get as far away from Damien Ivanov as possible.
This time for good.
Before I made my escape, I needed to learn whatever I could about Samara’s whereabouts. With any luck, she'd been able to run before Gregor could catch her, and she was already halfway to Montreal.
“Where’s Samara?” I asked with no preamble.
Chapter 20
Yelena
Picking up his fork, he asked, “Is she missing?” before scooping the last of his eggs into his mouth.
“If Gregor hurts one hair on her head, you’ll both be sorry.” My threat was all bluster, and we both knew it. I was powerless against him, let alone him and his brother and the whole Ivanov crime family juggernaut.
Damien leaned over and put a finger beneath my chin, lifting my head. “Babygirl, I’m trying really hard to be nice because I know you are scared, but my patience will only stretch so far.” His dark eyes glittered with leashed anger. I had touched a nerve.
“I don’t know what you mean,” I evaded as I lowered my eyes, breaking eye contact. “I’m not scared.”
The kitchen was so quiet I could hear the tiny clicks of the minute hand from the clock on the wall. The tines of my fork scraped against the porcelain plate as I tried to dispel the awkward silence.
Finally, he spoke. His voice was so low it was more a rumbling growl. “What I mean is if you don’t want me to toss you on this table and spank that tight pussy of yours while I shove my thick dick down your throat till you beg for mercy between gasps of air… you had better stop asking questions that will just get you into trouble.”
I remembered the rumors about how his anger could flash hot without any warning.
Demon Damien.
My eyes widened at the vivid picture he had just painted. My thigh muscles tightened at the idea that he was capable of doing just what he threatened. Flashes of us on the rooftop flickered across my mind.
I harrumphed. “You’re totally a Scorpio.”
Damien sat back in his chair. His forehead furrowed in bewilderment. “What?”
“A Scorpio. Were you born in November?”
Damien nodded. I could see the look of tempered curiosity cross his features. He was going to indulge me, but for how long?
“I figured as much. Scorpios are very intense signs. Very focused. Like dogs with boners… I mean bones.”
Damien raised an eyebrow as his eyes lowered to his crotch. Mine followed. I instantly regretted it when I saw the outline of his heavy cock pressing against the fabric of his jeans.
I stood up so quickly the chair toppled onto the floor behind me. Bending over to pick it up, I heard Damien's harsh inhalation. Looking over my shoulder I realized he was staring at my ass, probably remembering the last time he saw me in this position. Oh God.
“A… shower! I need a shower!”
“Baby, we don’t have time for this. I don’t have anything concrete yet, but I have little doubt the Columbians are in town, and they will be looking for you.”
“Please,” I pleaded.
Damien ran his hand through his hair. For a moment, I thought he was going to say no and follow through with his threat. He surprised me by saying yes. We walked down the narrow, bare hallway to a master bedroom.
It looked like an Ikea catalog had thrown up. Like someone had chosen page twenty-three out of the catalog and had it shipped, right down to the plastic demo room plant.
“Is this your place?” I asked, trying really hard to keep the judgment out of my voice.
Damien turned and gave me a nasty look. “You can’t seriously think I live here? What kind of tasteless Neanderthal do you take me for?”
I shrugged my shoulders as I followed him into the bathroom. It had an odd Ikea slash I Love Florida theme with a palm tree pattern shower curtain and pink flamingo wallpaper. I covered my mouth to prevent a laugh at the pink fluffy toilet seat cover.
“It’s a safe house we occasionally use when we have delicate business in Chicago,” explained Damien with a twist of his lips as he pulled the curtain aside and started the water.
Business. That’s all I was to him.
Business.
A tool to be used to make money and perhaps fuck once in a while.
I’d be smart to remember that.
Turning back to me, he put his hands on his hips and ordered, “Strip.”
It took me a moment to realize what he had said.
The dangling handcuffs rattled as I put my hands protectively over my breasts as if they were already bared to his gaze. “What?”
His voice, though quiet and calm, held an edge of annoyance. “Take off your clothes.”
Shaking my head, I tried to back away but he leaned over me and closed the door.
“I changed my mind. I don’t want a shower,” I blurted out.
“Too late. You’re getting one. You’re still covered in dust and dirt from the rooftop.”
Self-consciously, I brushed a hand over my dirty jeans. Still, I refused to obey.
Apparently in no mood for arguments, Damien tried to grab me.
I screamed and reached for the doorknob.
His body pressed me in. Fuck, he was so much taller than me. His size and bulk overwhelmed me. Grabbing my arms, he pulled them high over my head. I could feel his rough hand on my stomach as he fisted the hem of my shirt and ruthlessly pulled it off. He lowered my arms. There was a tension around my ribcage as he pulled on the clasp of my bra before that too hit the bathroom floor.
“Please!” I cried.
He didn’t listen. Turning me to face him, he kept his hard eyes on mine as he unfastened my jeans. The brush of his warm knuckles against my cool skin made me suck in my stomach in a vain attempt to avoid his touch.
Taking a step back, he crossed his heavy arms over his chest. With a nod of his chin, he said, “You should know the drill by now. Kick them off.”
I brushed the back of my hand across my tearing eyes. I knew I was caught. There was nothing in the bathroom I could use as a weapon. Hell, if a brick to the head didn’t slow him down, I doubted hitting him with a fucking soap dish would do the trick. Hesitantly, I dug the toe of my right foot into the heel of my left sneaker and kicked it free. Then did the same with my left foot. As I looked down to push the jeans off my hips, I saw the blood.
“Blood! I’m bleeding!” I cried out, as I twisted to examine my side and back. The dark crimson smears of dried blood looked gruesome against my pale skin.
“That’s my blood,” uttered Damien calmly.
My eyes went to the bandaged wound on his side. The white bandage looked stark against his deeply tanned and inked skin. He must have gotten blood on me when we were on the roof when he did that thing with his fingers. I clenched my thighs at the memory.
“Oh,” I responded lamely. Biting my lip, I shimmied the jeans off my hips. My cheeks flamed a bright pink as I remembered my silk panties had been left on the rooftop earlier, covered in Damien's come. I was a natural blonde, so the curls between my legs were so light the seam between the folds was visible. I might as well have been completely bare.
“Now spread your legs.”
The bathroom had started to mist from the hot water running in the shower. The mirrors and small window fogged up. His skin glist
ened, making the bright colors of the tattoos on his arms vivid and almost lifelike. They were done in bright golds, oranges, yellows, and blues. Mythic beasts and symbols all intertwined. I knew Russians put great meaning behind their tattoos. It made me curious as to what the meaning was behind his. Looking at his hands, it was more of the same, but none of the usual prison tattoos like you’d see on my stepfather’s friends. No religious symbols, or knives, or suit symbols from a deck of cards.
Placing my hands against the wall for support, I slid my feet open.
“Wider,” he barked.
I obeyed. I couldn’t recall a single moment in my life where I had felt more vulnerable or more aroused. Fuck, what was this man doing to me? This was so freaking messed up.
Damien took a step toward me; I inhaled sharply and held my breath. I closed my eyes as I watched his arm reach out. A single finger traced my collarbone, then the upper swell of my right breast, then over my navel. My stomach quivered from the warmth of his touch. He continued to caress lower till his large hand cupped my pussy. That same finger pushed between my folds to press inside my tight passage.
I bit my lip to keep from crying out as I kept my eyes screwed tight.
He shifted closer. Then a whisper in my ear. “You were a very bad malen'kiy angel today, weren’t you?”
Without thought, I nodded.
“You made me very angry when I had to chase you across the city,” he growled as his lips skimmed my neck, before skimming my jaw to claim my lips.
A Scorpio through and through, he claimed my lips with ruthless possession as if it were his right. The tip of his tongue traced the sharp edge of my teeth before swirling around my own. His hand slid up into my hair, pulling my head back. The sting of pain just brought the consuming kiss into sharper focus.
I tried not to respond. I felt like I was falling, being pulled down into his gravity. Trying to keep my wits about me, I skimmed my hand over his hip and slipped it into his back pocket.
Slightly breathless, he abruptly broke the kiss. “And now you continue to be a brat, petulantly not responding to my orders… or my kiss.” He pushed a second finger in and began to pulse.
My whole body started to tremble, and I desperately wanted him to brush his thumb across my clit and relieve the building pressure.
“So now I have to punish you.”
My eyes opened in shock as I could only manage a frightened squeak in response.
“Raise your arms.”
“Damien,” I cajoled as I tried to think what I could say to talk my way out of the punishment I knew I deserved. Hell, I had tried to shoot the man twice and managed to inflict a knife wound in the bargain. Oh, and then there was the brick.
“Do it,” he barked.
Frightened, I raised my arms. The handcuff clattered against the now steam-slick wall. I wondered if he was going to connect them again, but he didn’t.
Instead, he leaned in and met my gaze. “Remember, it’s never a good idea to make me mad.”
The sharp pain took me by surprise.
He had spanked me between the legs.
On my… oh God!
He spanked me again.
I cried out as I tried to smash my knees together. Damien's strong hands forced my thighs apart. “Take your punishment like a good girl.”
He spanked me again. The pulsing heat was unbearable. I clawed at the wall behind my hips. I watched through tear-filled eyes as his arm rose and fell over and over again. With each strike, my whole body jolted from the twisted, pleasurable pain. In that moment, I would have given anything for him to take me into his arms and fuck me senseless.
Damien leaned over and cupped my jaw. “Eventually you will understand that I’m actually trying to protect you. And you fighting me won’t change that—no matter how many times you try to shoot me,” he said sardonically.
Pushing the tangled hair from my eyes, he gently led me to the shower. He checked the temperature with his hand and adjusted it before allowing me to step in. The water felt soothing on my face, but it stung the moment it trickled over my swollen, punished flesh. I hissed in a breath through clenched teeth.
“Do you need help?”
Dazed, I shook my head. I needed to be alone if only for the spare minutes the shower would provide. Needed to think about how I'd almost given my body to the demon devil himself.
Damien ran his hand over my shoulder and down my arm in what I thought was a calming caress, till he lifted my arm high.
Then, a click from the handcuffs.
He had handcuffed my right hand to the metal shower rod.
I opened my mouth to curse at him but started to cough as water rushed in.
“I will be back to check on you in five minutes,” he tossed over his shoulder as he turned to leave.
With a cry of outrage, I threw the wet washcloth at his back. It landed against his bare shoulder before falling to the tiled floor with a splat. He just laughed and kept walking.
Well, I would be the one with the last laugh when he returned to find me gone.
Chapter 21
Damien
Damn, that woman was going to be the death of me — literally.
I pulled on the adhesive strips of the bandage on my side. The bleeding had already stopped. The edges of the cut were sealed with dried blood. I pulled the rest of the bandage free before reaching into my bag for another black t-shirt.
This was my last clean one on hand. I was also wearing my last pair of clean jeans; the other pair was covered in tar and grit from the roof. A few more days with Yelena and I would need a new wardrobe. The very domestic thought of strolling through a mall with Yelena as she dragged me into one designer store after another picking out clothes to dress her man crossed my mind.
And you know what? It didn’t suck.
Especially when I thought about how that beautiful little face would be smiling up at me the whole time. It was amazing that a woman so small and feminine could also be so strong and stubborn. It definitely was one of the things which fascinated and drew me to her. Despite her diminutive size, I knew she would take a pounding from my cock and scream for more.
I reached down to adjust my shaft inside my jeans. Back in the bathroom, I had wanted nothing more than to have spread her legs wide and sink deep into her tight cunt. Just the thought of how the warm skin of her punished pussy would feel against the sensitive underside of my cock had me turning in that direction, but I reined myself in. She needed some space and time alone, if only for a few minutes.
And above all things, I wanted — I needed — her to trust me. It was the only way I was going to be able to keep her safe. The thought of tying her to the bed and strapping that curved ass of hers with my belt immediately came to mind, but that way didn’t build trust.
Walking into the kitchen, I picked up the Glock Yelena had set aside and checked the magazine. It was full. Thank God that woman didn’t know guns or my crazy babygirl might have actually succeeded in shooting me if she had properly chambered a bullet. I was about to tuck it into my back waistband when I heard a soft knock at the door. Listening to make sure the shower was still running, I raised the gun as I approached the door from the side just in case whoever was on the other side got the funny idea to shoot straight through the door. “Who is it?”
“It is your friend, Vaska Lukovich Rostov,” came the muffled response.
Releasing the chain and deadbolt, I opened the door.
“Vaska.” I clapped him on the shoulder, and we kissed each other’s cheeks. “I haven’t seen you since that close call in Uzbekistan.”
Vaska winked. “That redhead almost got me killed… but she was worth it.”
I shook my head. “You always liked the troublemakers.”
He slapped me on the back. “And you my friend are no different. I bring gifts.” He held up a duffel bag. “I had to send Jim on another errand, so I offered to bring these to you.”
I took it from him and gestured for him to ente
r. As soon as he crossed the threshold, I double checked that the hallway was clear before securing the door.
With a nod of his head, Vaska gestured to the duffel bag, “It has her clothes.”
Taking the duffel, I walked down the hallway to the master bedroom. Tossing it on the bed, I reached for the bathroom door, pausing to take a deep breath before entering. I needed to stay calm and focused since I knew the sight of her wet skin and naked form would likely drive me fucking crazy with lust, especially knowing she was handcuffed and vulnerable to whatever I wanted to do to her.
I opened the door. There she was obediently standing in the shower stall. With the use of only one hand, she'd missed a spot of foamy suds on her right side. The creamy bubbles caressed her butt cheek and hip. Taking a step closer, I kept my eyes trained on hers as I smoothed my hand over her skin, washing away the soap. The dark tan of my hand looked almost menacing against her pale skin tinted slightly pink from the warmth of the water. Her beautiful blue eyes were a dark cobalt blue in the soft morning light that filtered through the glazed glass window.
I leaned in closer.
My cock jumped at the sight of her full lips opening.
An invitation.
Gritting my teeth, I reminded myself to focus. After digging the key out of my front pocket, I reached up to unlock the handcuff from the shower rod. Holding her hand, I also unlocked the one around her wrist.
“Don’t make me regret this,” I warned as I palmed the handcuffs.
She remained silent.
I wasn’t dumb enough to think it was from submissive obedience.
Not my treacherous little angel.
No, she was remaining quiet and still as she assessed the situation.
I placed a towel around her shoulders and held tight to the ends which crossed over her full breasts. “I had some of your clothes retrieved from your place. They’re on the bed. Do not leave the bedroom until I come to get you. Do you understand?”
Yelena nodded.
Using my right hand as I kept a grip on the towel with my left, I lifted her chin and shifted closer, every fiber of my being aware of her near-naked state. “I mean it, baby. Do not cross that threshold, or I will give you the thrashing of your life.”