Beyond Measure: A Dark Bratva Romance (Ruthless Doms)

by Henry, Jane

“You’re no fool, Caroline,” I say, reaching behind her to unclasp her bra. I told her to take off her clothes, and I meant all of them. Her hand flies up to try and trap my wrist, but I quickly deflect her and continue. “There’s a reason you’ve dressed the way you have, and I’ll make it my mission to find out why.”

  “Oh?” she tosses back angrily. “Will you, then?”

  I nimbly unclasp her bra and her beautiful, rounded breasts swing free. I swallow hard and gather one full breast in my palm, letting my thumb gently graze her nipple. “I will,” I say, my voice husky. I turn her around and switch positions, sitting on the bed and positioning her in front of me. Bending, I take the edge of her panties and draw them down. I can feel the heat of her skin where I spanked her, and when the panties come down her thighs, the sweet feminine scent of her arousal makes me nearly mad with lust.

  Now she stands in front of me stark naked, wearing nothing but a scowl and the faint pink of my handprint where I spanked her.

  “Are you aroused by your spanking, Caroline?” I ask, enjoying the way her pale cheeks color.

  “No!” she says, pulling away from me, but I quickly grab her arms and yank her closer.

  “We’ll see about that.”

  I will not ask permission from her, but I will not take advantage. Does she enjoy being under my authority in some way? Does being turned over my lap excite her? I aim to find out.

  “Part your legs,” I command, pushing her thighs apart with the back of my hand.

  She obeys, and the scent of her feminine musk grows stronger. I gently brush the tip of my finger at the very apex of her thighs.

  “Do you like when I take control?” I ask. “Did you like being over my lap for a spanking?”

  She shakes her head wildly, her lips parted.

  “No, of course not. Are you kidding?”

  But one swipe of my finger at her core says otherwise. “Really?” I ask with disbelief. “Are you sure a little part of you isn’t fascinated with the idea of bending to my whip? Of receiving measured pain at my hand?”

  “No,” she says, but her eyes close, and she releases a moan.

  “And yet, the thought arouses you,” I probe.

  “No,” she pants, shaking her head, as I work her pussy.

  I freeze. “No?”

  “No-no. Yes!” she amends, wantonly pushing her hips against my hand for more pressure.

  “Tell me what arouses you,” I say, before I flick her clit. She whimpers.

  “I don’t know,” she says. It’s a fair response. “It hurt when you spanked me.” And then she opens her eyes fully and glares at me. “And I fucking hate sex.”

  I note the antagonism with interest. There’s a story there. I make it my mission to find out what it is and to change it.

  “Good,” I say, withdrawing my hand and bringing my wet fingers to her mouth. As much as I want to lay her down and eat her out until she comes on my face with absolute abandon, the timing isn’t right. I have three days to make her mine, and she will learn her place in that time. I won’t let her come until she’s earned it.

  “Suck,” I order.

  Grimacing, she obeys. The wet feel of her tongue on my fingers makes my dick twitch and my stomach tighten. Jesus, I can’t wait to fuck her.

  In time.

  “That’s a good girl,” I tell her. I release her, giving her one more longing look. Her body is utter perfection. “Our plane leaves in the morning. You need some sleep and so do I. Unfortunately, I don’t trust you, so you’ll have to sleep with these on.”

  I pull a pair of cuffs out of my pocket and lead her to the bedpost to cuff her. Her eyes widen. She likely expected I’d fuck her tonight.

  “If it’s an emergency, let me know. If not, you’re not to bother me, and if you do so prematurely, I’ll be forced to punish you.” She won’t sleep well with her arms secured above her head, but given that she’s mine now, and I don’t want her near anyone until she proves I can trust her, she’ll have plenty of time to rest.

  “Where are you going to sleep?” she asks. I nod to the bed beside her.

  “You’re my wife,” I say, aware that my tone is sarcastic and biting. “I’ll sleep beside you. But don’t worry. I won’t touch you.”

  “You…” she begins, then she thinks better of what she was going to say and clamps her mouth shut.

  “Me what?” I ask. “Say it.” I begin to undress, slipping out of my coat jacket and hanging it over a chair.

  “You say you’re not repulsed by me, but you have no interest in consummating our marriage? That makes no logical sense to me.”

  I like that she’s ruled by logic, and I’ll keep that in mind. At the same time, it’s my duty to train her to obey me, so she’ll only get the bare minimum.

  “You’re wrong in assuming I don’t want to consummate our marriage. I do. Very much so.” I unbutton my trousers and push them down my legs. “And that should be obvious to you.”

  Her eyes travel to the large erection tented in my boxers and real fear crosses her face. She swallows hard.

  “But not tonight?” she whispers.

  I shake my head.

  “Not tonight.”

  She breathes a sigh of relief and seems almost relaxed in her cuffs. I don’t understand this woman but will. I pull off my t-shirt and climb into bed with her. Shyly, she looks me over, lingering on the ink that paints my neck, arms, and back.

  “Someday, will you tell me what those mean?” she asks, so innocently, she doesn’t sound like the woman of just a few minutes ago.

  “Maybe someday,” I tell her. “Now no more talking. Sleep.”

  I wish our wedding night could’ve ended differently than this, but I’m no romantic. The only reason I do is because I’d have liked to fuck her well and good before we went to sleep, to calm the blood pounding in my veins. To remind her that she belongs to me.

  I roll over with my back to her. I like the warm feel of her skin against mine. I can almost hear her thinking, as she lies there in the dark and I wonder what she turns over in her mind.

  Still, sleep comes swiftly in the end.

  When I wake the next morning, she’s already stirring beside me, her arms still in cuffs, staring up at the ceiling. I wonder if she’s slept at all.

  “Dobroye utro,” I say. Good morning.

  She purses her lips and give me a sidelong glance but doesn’t respond.

  Casually, I reach over to one of her bare breasts and take her nipple between my fingers. She tenses when I squeeze and narrows her eyes. I’m not trying to arouse her. I’m reminding her of what happens when she doesn’t behave.

  “The proper way to respond to your husband is to say good morning, or dobroye utro,” I tell her. I hold onto the tender bud. “Go on, now.”

  “Good morning,” she says through gritted teeth, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “Looks like fine weather we’re having, doesn’t it?”

  I look out the window for the first time. It’s dark and rainy, and thunder booms in the air.

  I shrug. “It’s lovely. Are you hungry?” I ask. Her eyes flit to where I still have hold of her nipple.

  “Starving. Are you going to let me go or not?”

  “Are you going to watch your mouth or not?”

  She sighs, briefly closes her eyes, then nods. “Yes.”

  I release her nipple and watch as it turns a pretty shade of deep pink. With the very tip of my finger, I circle the outer edge and push myself up on my elbow.

  “Your breasts are gorgeous,” I tell her huskily. “I’d like to taste them for breakfast.”

  “Charming,” she says, which earns her another punishing tweak. Gasping, she tenses. I release her nipple and bend my mouth to her other breast, lazily drawing my tongue along the pretty pink peak. Holding her gaze with mine, I draw her nipple into my mouth and suck hard.

  Her back arches but her hands stay in place, still cuffed to the headboard. The way her eyes flutter shut I can tell she likes my ministrat
ions. Gently, I knead one nipple while I lap and suckle the other, until a little moan of pleasure escapes her pretty lips. I release her nipple and drop a kiss to the damp, hardened skin, before I draw my mouth lower and kiss the fullest part of her bare breast.

  “Fucking beautiful,” I tell her, planting kisses all along her chest. Cuffed, she can’t stop me, but I have a feeling that it’s only an excuse for her to enjoy this, because she gently parts her knees without prompting and whimpers when I stop.

  Pushing myself up to her neck, I kiss her there, inhaling her sweet scent, faintly honeyed and floral.

  Christ, she’s got me so damn aroused. As pakhan, I have women whenever I want them and readily, but they’ve been willing. Eager, even. This one is not only more beautiful than the slender women I’ve taken, with her full curves and valleys I could sink into with pleasure. She poses a challenge to me. Maybe it’s because she’s hard to get. Maybe it’s because she’s a fucking goddess. Maybe it’s because she’s my wife and deep within I know I own every inch of her.

  I want to fuck this woman more than I’ve ever wanted to fuck anyone before. But I can be patient, and I will.

  “You can’t mean that,” she says softly It makes me pause.

  “Mean what?”

  “That you find me beautiful.”

  I’m taken aback by her response. I can tell she’s sincere. I shake my head. We need to clear this up.

  “There’s one thing you need to know about me, Caroline. I never say anything I don’t mean. I don’t mince words, and I don’t sugarcoat the truth.”

  How could she not think she’s beautiful?

  But she says nothing else as I make my way up the column of her neck to her lips. Bracing my hand against one side of her face, I cup her jaw and lower my mouth to hers.

  She tastes delicious, sweet, and seductive, like the most delectable wine. Pungent and sweet, fruity and intoxicating. I take one sip and can’t stop, can’t pull away from her. She moans beneath me as I kiss her deeply, even as her body tenses. I wait until she arches into me, wanting more, before I pull away.

  When I do, she opens her eyes and glares at me.

  “I’m not sure I like the way you’re looking at me,” I tell her, pushing out of bed and getting to my feet. “There’s defiance laced in every part of your body.”

  “Oh?” she throws back. “I suppose you’ll whip that out of me or something?”

  She has no fucking idea.

  I head to the bathroom and look over my shoulder at her, thinking before I respond.

  “I have many methods, Caroline. And time will tell which works best. If I were you, I wouldn’t test me unless a part of you wants to be punished by me.” I open the door to the bathroom. “Then by all means, do it. Defy me and see where that lands you.”

  I use the bathroom quickly, listening hard to the other side of the door, but there’s no movement or sound. When I come back in the room, a little bit of the fiery temper has faded from her gaze, and she licks her lips. I’d give anything to know what’s going on in that mind of hers. The woman runs deep, a veritable chasm of thoughts and emotions and intellect I’m eager to explore.

  “May I please use the bathroom?” she asks politely.

  I nod. “You may.” She watches as I retrieve the key, slip it in, and free her wrists. “Be quick about it. We need to go eat breakfast.”

  She gets out on the side of the bed away from me, walks around in a large loop to avoid coming close, walks to the bathroom and shuts the door hard. Almost a slam, though not quite. She’s skirting the edge of defiance on purpose.

  I shake my head to myself and stifle a chuckle. She’s so predictable it’s almost amusing. I dress before I open the dresser drawer and find some clothes for her. Nicolai told me Marissa would outfit her, and she’s done a good job. I choose a soft blue cotton dress and undergarments and lay them on the bed and wait for her. When she comes out of the bathroom I point silently to the clothes. I watch as she tugs them on and doesn’t question my choice. So there are areas where she chooses to draw the line. I note this well.

  When she’s done, I gesture for her to have a seat. Nicolai said we had a choice to either eat with the brotherhood or eat privately, and I’m not sure I trust her well enough to bring her around the others.

  “You may sit at the table until I tell you to get up,” I tell her. I wait until she sits obediently and places her hands in her lap before I check my messages.

  Lev: Complications in San Diego. Call when you can.

  I huff out an angry breath. Of course there are complications in San Diego. Why did I think my marriage to Caroline would actually go off without a hitch?

  Caroline taps her foot and bites her lip while I text Lev back. I’ll call you after I eat breakfast. My stomach rumbles with hunger, and my irritation grows. I need to eat something before I bite someone’s head off, and the closest person to me is the woman I’ve married.

  I look at her in silence, and she meets my steady gaze. I call her wife, and yet we’re as unalike as two people could be, as well as total strangers. At least I think so. The truth is, I don’t know anything about her.

  Well, that’s easy enough to remedy. But not until I’ve put some damn food in me.

  “Are you always angry?” she asks.

  I look at her in surprise, because the question actually gives me pause. Her question doesn’t anger me. It’s honest, and not necessarily disrespectful. I’ll have questions for her, too.

  “No,” I tell her. “Though as pakhan, much responsibility falls on my shoulders. I don’t like when I give an instruction and it isn’t obeyed. I expect those who are under my authority to do what they’re told.”

  “Clearly,” she mutters.

  “Clearly,” I repeat. “When that doesn’t happen, I do get angry. But that isn’t a constant.”

  “Good to know,” she mutters, pursing her lips and looking away.

  “When we get back to Boston, you’ll have duties as wife to the pakhan. To begin, you’ll see someone who will help prepare you for the day,” I tell her. “As my wife, you must be presentable at all times.”

  She purses her lips but doesn’t say anything.

  “My men are trained to obey, and each of them demands obedience from his partner. They will expect that you have learned to obey me. Do you understand that?”

  “Yeah,” she says, but a sharp look makes her amend herself. “Yes, of course.”

  Perhaps we’ll join them for breakfast after all. It will be what they call an “educational opportunity.”

  “So we begin today,” I tell her, rising to my feet. “Take my hand and join me for breakfast.”

  We go to the door and she actually giggles to herself.

  “What?” I ask her. “Something amusing?”

  But she shakes her head and won’t tell me, trying to sober, but the corners of her lips tug upward.

  “Caroline,” I prod. “Tell me.”

  “Fine,” she says with a sigh. “You’re just like the beast,” she says. “Join me for dinner, rawr.”

  The beast? Who the fuck is the beast? Her comparison annoys me, even if I am secretly pleased that she’s amused.

  “Did the beast whip his pretty little wife’s ass?” I ask pleasantly, and she quickly sobers then sighs.

  “That I don’t know,” she mutters.

  We walk in silence to the dining room, her little hand tucked into mine. When we arrive, Marissa and Nicolai are sitting at a small, circular table nearby. He nods, and Marissa stands to greet us.

  Caroline flushes when Marissa gives her a quick hug and a probing look, as if to see if I’ve abused my new wife. Nicolai clears his throat and pulls Marissa’s hand to make her sit.

  The waitstaff brings us bacon, eggs, and toast. I allow Caroline to take her own place, and she quietly eats.

  “Hungry?” I ask curiously as she polishes her plate off.

  “Starving,” she says, leaning back in her chair with a sigh. “And that wa
s delicious.”

  “Did they not feed you well in your home?” I ask, finishing my own breakfast.

  The question brings a fire to her eyes once more. “Clearly, I’m not underfed.”

  Oh, no, we won’t go there.

  “I only meant were you hungry before you came?” My tone is hard, commanding, reminding her not to get snappy with me and I hate when she makes deprecating remarks about her body.

  She merely shrugs. “It wasn’t that,” she says. “But I preferred being in the kitchen than out of it. And there were people I didn’t want to see, so I—” Then it’s like someone flicks a switch. Her eyes shudder and her lips clamp shut. I look at her in surprise. What caused such a drastic response from her? “I preferred being in the kitchen,” she repeats.

  I nod, lift my hand, and order more food. “Do you?” I ask. “Do you know how to cook?”

  She snorts out loud. “Know how to cook? Yes, certainly, though my brother hated if I spent time in the kitchen. Still, I learned from the best.” For the very first time, her eyes light up and she clasps her hands beneath her chin. “I was passionate about it,” she explains. She doesn’t need to tell me. I can tell just from the light in her eyes.

  “I see,” I tell her with a nod. “Perhaps you can work with our chefs back in Boston.”

  She’s holding the crust of a piece of toast when she freezes, the food halfway to her mouth. She swallows hard.

  “You’d let me do that?”

  Some choose to train with a stick, others with a carrot. I choose both.

  “If you learn to behave, there are many things I’d allow you to do.”

  If she knows she can pursue what she calls her “passion,” perhaps training her will go easier on the both of us with one contingency: she needs to prove she’ll do as I say.

  Marissa watches us keenly from where she sits, pretending she isn’t listening to every word we say, so it comes as no surprise that when we rise, she leans over to talk to Nicolai and says something. He’s staring at his phone frowning and nods absentmindedly for her to go. I watch her curiously as I take Caroline’s hand and lead her out of the dining room. I’d bet money that she’s up to no good.

  Nicolai stands and gestures for me to wait. “I’ll see you off,” he says. “I need to take a call. You good, brother?”