Beyond Measure: A Dark Bratva Romance (Ruthless Doms)

by Henry, Jane

  Oh.

  Oh.

  It’s got to be like six o’clock at night, and he doesn’t want to be disturbed?

  I doubt he’s a Monday night football kinda guy.

  I’m staring at the ceiling, wondering how things will go when the door to the bedroom creaks open.

  “Good to know you’ve obeyed at least one instruction today,” he says.

  “Now that’s not fair, I’ve obeyed more than that. In fact, I’m not even sure what else I’ve done other than leave here, and my ass already took that punishment.”

  “A husband can’t tease?”

  Is he really teasing? I didn’t even know he was capable.

  “You’re hardly the teasing sort.”

  He’s reaching for his tie, his eyes fixed on me. A moment ago, they twinkled, but he looks a little more serious now. “I’m not? How do you know, Caroline? You don’t know me at all.”

  “And isn’t that the problem.” It isn’t a question but a statement. We don’t know each other, and here we are.

  We stare at each other and neither says a word. This conversation has gotten way more serious than either of us anticipated. Oh, how I wish I could trust him fully.

  “And what if I tell you I don’t want you to touch me tonight?” I ask. I want to know what he says even though I have no intention of telling him any such thing. Why would I? I’m dying for him to take me to euphoric heights I’ve never known. He is so capable. God, he is.

  Without a word, his dark brown eyes drill into mine, he unfastens his necktie and wraps it around his fist.

  “Are you?” he asks. Of course, he puts it right back on me and doesn’t play into my trap at all. He won’t allow himself to be caught.

  I bite my lip, not sure how to respond, when he crosses the room in firm, quick strides. Before I know what’s happening, he wraps his silky tie around my mouth and knots it in the back.

  “Go ahead. Tell me no.”

  I open my mouth to speak but all that comes out is a garbled mess.

  The bastard.

  He took away my ability to tell him no. I huff out in anger and glare at him. I have no intention of refusing sex with him. Sex with him is fucking epic. But I hate that he played me like that.

  I glare.

  “You know what happens to naughty little girls who glare like that at their husbands,” he says, wagging a finger at me.

  My eyes narrow, but I don’t respond because I literally can’t.

  Why don’t you tell me, you son of a bitch?

  By now he’s reached me, and he kneels on one knee beside me, leaning down to whisper in my ear. “They are punished by being denied pleasure, little detka. Brats don’t come, Caroline.”

  I’m not a brat, the jerk.

  He continues to whisper. “Is that what you want? Being on the edge of ecstasy but never reaching completion. Over. And over. And over.”

  Nooooo.

  The bastard.

  I’m super grateful he isn’t a mind reader.

  I don’t respond, because I feel myself softening toward him, and I don’t want that, but the idea of him taking me to the edge of bliss and leaving me there… I could literally cry.

  I sigh through the tie gag and shake my head.

  “Your eyes are begging me,” he says, brushing damp hair off my forehead. “Is that what you mean to say, sweetheart?”

  Tomas is fierce and powerful, ruthless and possessive. I’ve seen him nearly kill a man and I have no doubt he’s done it before. But he’s held me and comforted me and has just commanded his entire brotherhood to take down the men that hurt me.

  How could I not love him a little for that?

  I hold his gaze and nod my head and don’t blink while I silently beg him. He’s left my hands free, so I reach for him with both arms. I want to hold him. Touch him. Feel his strength and let it empower me.

  To my surprise, he lets me, gathering me in his arms and settling me on his lap. In silence, he holds me in the crook of his arm and begins to undress me.

  His large fingers are surprisingly deft with the buttons on my dress, and in no time, he’s removed it fully. I lay on his lap with nothing but panties and a bra, which he also makes quick work removing.

  It surprises me when he places me on the floor between his legs and unfastens the tie around the back of my mouth.

  “Now will you tell me no, sweetheart?” He brushes his thumb along the apple of my cheek. I hate that he’s putting this on me.

  “Maybe,” I say petulantly, though we both know there’s no maybe about it.

  “Maybe,” he says to himself. “I’m curious, though, Caroline. Why did you get so angry with me at dinner?”

  He’s positioning me between his legs, in a kneeling position.

  “I don’t know why you wouldn’t let me serve,” I tell him. “It’s like you’re just using me to get what you want, and you don’t care at all about what matters to me.”

  “All of that over one misunderstanding?”

  “All of… what?”

  “Your anger, your attitude, nearly getting yourself punished again for disrespect.”

  How can I tell him everything that I fear? That I’ve convinced myself that he’s cold and heartless and incapable of love?

  I don’t respond, because I don’t know how to. I look at the floor. Did I overreact? But he grabs my chin and makes me look at him.

  “Do not look away from me,” he says, in that stern tone of his that makes my nipples harden and my tummy clench. “No matter what.”

  I nod. “Yes, sir.”

  He unfastens his trousers and removes his belt. I swallow hard, and my ass aches in memory of what he did with that belt. Placing it on the bed in a coil, he unzips his pants.

  That’s when I realize what he’s doing.

  “Um, so, wait a minute,” I say, suddenly nervous. “I… I don’t know how to do that.”

  Reaching over to me, he tangles his fingers in my hair and pulls my head back. Oh, God, I love how that feels. My scalp tingles, my heartbeat racing as he tugs my head back. I didn’t know getting my hair pulled was that erotic.

  I’m in so much trouble.

  “Open.”

  I do what he says.

  He slides his cock between my lips. Tentatively, I close my mouth on him and suck.

  It makes him groan, and it’s all that I need.

  I want to earn his possession and loyalty, to know that when he fights for me it’s because of who I am, not what I am.

  I want to please him so badly I could cry. I’d do anything to hear good girl, to see his eyes alight with pleasure, so when he sighs and bobs my head with his hand still fisted in my hair, I suck in earnest.

  “Christ, Caroline,” he groans. “Just like that. That’s it, sweetheart.”

  I lick and suck and bob my head, watching his cues and doing what it takes to make him groan.

  He releases my hair and runs a finger down the side of my face. “There’s a submissive inside there, you know,” he says. “When you please me, your eyes light up and your whole countenance lightens, like it’s Christmas Day.”

  He closes his eyes while I work my mouth and tongue, my own body humming with need as he gets more and more aroused.

  “That’s dangerous, Caroline. The heart of a submissive must be guarded.” He groans, rolling his hips and pumping into me harder, faster. I can’t process what he’s saying now. My breasts tingle and swell, and my pussy throbs with need. It’s hard to hear him, hard to focus when I’m so overcome with arousal and need, so intent on bringing him pleasure.

  He shocks me when he yanks my head away and shoves his cock back in his pants.

  “Enough,” he says. At first, I worry that I did something wrong, but I soon realize it’s only because he doesn’t want to climax this way.

  “I want in you. On the bed,” he groans. “Now.”

  I scramble on the bed on all fours, looking over my shoulder at him, but when I do, he slams his palm against
my bare ass.

  “Good girl,” he approves, coming up behind me. “I told you I’d take good care of you. Now on your back.”

  I flop on my back, stifling a whimper of need. He’s on the edge himself, and his gaze is laser focused. If I didn’t know he was turned the hell on, I would think he was angry, he’s that serious.

  “Arms above your head.” I obey, leaving my entire body ripe with need and at his mercy. He strips, eyes focused on me, but I quickly look away because I want to look at him.

  First, the buttons on his shirt. Sliding out of it, he tosses it in a hamper and stands before me wearing nothing but a t-shirt. I let my eyes roam unabashedly over his body, from his large muscled arms to the breadth of his chest. I swallow hard, a shiver gliding through me.

  He’s so fucking hot.

  Next come his pants. He makes quick work of unbuttoning them and shoving them down. His erection springs free, and I stifle a whimper. He’s murmuring things in Russian I can’t quite make out, I’m so heady with need and want. He’s brought me to the edge of pleasure today and I haven’t been the same since.

  He lowers his body to mine, and I want to reach for him. I want to touch him, but he’s forbidden it.

  “Do you have any idea how much I want you?” he whispers in my ear.

  “With that erection of yours pushed between my thighs, I have a pretty good idea.”

  His chuckle in my ear makes me shiver. I bite my lip, unable to stop myself from nearly grinning. It feels like a win, every time. Then the voices in my head come to a stuttering halt and all I can do is feel.

  “Tomas,” I breathe, when he captures my wrists in his warm, firm grasp. He drops a kiss to my forehead, my temple, my cheek, whispers of kisses along my scar that make me shudder.

  “Don’t,” I whisper, but his grip tightens, and he doesn’t stop.

  “Every inch of you is mine,” he says with purpose, his voice tight and controlled. “And I will own you.”

  Not my heart.

  He doesn’t hear my internal protest, but he feels it, because his body tenses.

  “Do you hear me?” he says in my ear. “Own you.”

  He kisses me again, the roughness of his whiskers belying the softness of his lips. I don’t know why I fight this so badly, but I do, as if I can’t willingly relinquish a part of me that’s still locked away.

  When his mouth meets mine, I moan. I try to control it. I try to hold myself back. I don’t want to submit to him, but being so near, I’m dazzled with his scent and strength, and my core throbs with need.

  Reaching down, he palms one of my breasts, grazing his thumb over the hardened peak before he takes my mouth. His tongue meets mine, at once possessive. I groan when he fingers my nipple while kissing me. I want so much more. My hips roll beneath him, my wrists pressed firmly in his grasp, and every stroke of his thumb on my nipple makes my pussy throb with need until I think I’m going to come just from his fingers on my breast.

  I’m so ready to fly, right on the edge of losing total control.

  “Tomas,” I moan when he stops kissing me.

  “Sir.”

  I quickly amend. “Sir. Oh, God. Please, sir. I need you inside me.”

  Being taken by Tomas is so different from what was done to me—I can’t speak of it or even think of it—that it’s inexplicably healing. Being claimed by him and brought to pleasure makes me feel owned in the best possible way. Yet, I resist it. I fight it. I don’t want to be hurt again.

  “Christ, woman,” he says in my ear. I exhale when he takes the head of his cock and presses it to my clit. “You’re so fucking tight and wet. So responsive to me. You’re ready, aren’t you, little detka?”

  “Yes, sir. Please.”

  Without another word, he plunges his thick cock between my legs and thrusts. I groan, melting underneath him as he holds my wrists in one hand and builds a rhythm that’s deep, satisfying, bringing me to the cusp of heaven. He brings his mouth to my ear, muttering in guttural, broken Russian. I only hear one word.

  “Prekrasnyy.”

  Beautiful.

  Every time he calls me beautiful, he cracks the walls of my heart. My eyes fill with tears and I swallow hard, not wanting to believe he really cares for me. If I fall into this belief, I won’t survive it. I’ve been broken and abused and can’t let myself be hurt again.

  Then he thrusts into me so hard, I feel like I’m going to split wide open. He groans, burying himself deeper inside me. The grip on my wrists gets so tight it hurts, yet he can’t hold me tight enough. And right then, I want him to possess me. I need him to.

  Right then, I want to be owned by my husband.

  So I push. I press my wrists against his, trying to get away, even though I know it’s impossible. I arch my back and wrap my legs around him and fight this. I want to be taken. I want him to make me.

  “Fuck me,” I say, in a voice I barely recognize. I’m angry, and I don’t know why. I push harder against Tomas, but he’s immovable, and with every thrust of his hips my need to come intensifies.

  He thrusts so hard I’m coming apart, and that’s when I know this is what I need. I don’t want tender ministrations and sweet words.

  I want him to fuck me.

  “Fuck me.”

  He lets go of my wrists so he can grab my hair and yank it. I cry out, pain radiating along my scalp and making me crazy with need before he thrusts again, so hard tears fill my eyes.

  Over and over he thrusts. My pulse races, my thighs are slick with arousal, and every inch of my skin prickles. Lowering his head to my neck, he sinks his teeth into the tender skin above my collarbone. The erotic pain and pleasure send me over the edge, and I fly into ecstasy.

  I’m wracked with pleasure, dimly aware of him grunting his own release. His seed lashes into me and I wrap my legs around him so tightly it hurts. I pulse and clench around him, groaning so loudly I’m hoarse. I ride the waves of pleasure as he comes, my body numb but for the pleasure that wraps me in a cocoon.

  I’m fractured but sated when we finally finish, his heavy body atop mine like a security blanket. I weave my arms around the back of his neck and pull him down to me. I kiss him so that he knows I’m his, but he’s mine as well. I own him as he owns me.

  Heart. Body. Soul.

  Chapter 17

  Tomas

  I don’t quite comprehend how someone so submissive can challenge a man like me. She laps up my praise like a kitten with milk, eager to please. She glows under my approval, yet when I take her to bed, the kitten’s claws come out.

  Perhaps she needs to fight me, so I take her. Maybe she needs to lose control, but on her terms. There are many things about her I don’t yet know, but I make it my mission to find out.

  After our vicious, blissful lovemaking, I roll onto my back and take her with me. I expect she’ll want to lay here like this, but she doesn’t. After a few moments, she slides herself atop me, straddling me from above.

  “What the hell are you doing?”

  Caroline’s hair is crazed, giving her the appearance of a wildcat. Her cheeks are flushed pink, her eyes wild and gorgeous.

  “I want to ride you,” she says. “Teach me to ride you.”

  I slap her thigh.

  “That’s enough telling me what to do, little detka.”

  She sticks out her lower lip in a pout, and it’s so adorable I’d give her anything she fucking wanted right then. When she places her hand on my chest, she gives me a coy look.

  “Please, sir.” She cocks her head to the side like a curious puppy. “Or are you too old to get it up again?”

  Christ almighty, I’m hard already.

  Did she just say what I think she did?

  “You call me old one more time, I’ll take you over my knee,” I tell her.

  “Mmmm.”

  “You’ll wear me out spanking your little ass,” I say, as I grasp her hips. I can’t get my fill of her and Christ, it looks like the feeling’s mutual.

  �
�Ride me, then,” I tell her. “Like this.”

  I lift her up and down my shaft, groaning out loud when her tight cunt clenches on me. The way she moans makes me impossibly harder.

  “Jesus, woman.” I grab her nipples and work them to hard peaks, my cock throbbing in her pussy when her mouth parts open with a moan.

  “Sirrrr,” she purrs.

  “My little kitten.” I knead her breasts and lift her up before slamming her on my cock. “Work it.”

  And hell, she does, and it’s fucking glorious. Her head thrown back, shoulders wide open, she rides me like she was meant for this. I’m gonna fucking come again just watching her, and when she groans in ecstasy, I lose all control.

  “Fuck me, you’re beautiful,” I say, my words tapering off to a groan when I chase my climax. Just when she begins to come down from one orgasm, she gasps, a second climax on its heels. I watch her come with utter pleasure. I’ve staked my claim, and Caroline is mine.

  “Come here,” I tell her. She’s still on me. We’re wet, a fucking mess, but I don’t care. I grab the back of her head, yank her face to mine, and kiss her sweet, pouty lips, when a knock comes at the door.

  She pulls away and looks at me quizzically.

  “It’s dessert,” I tell her. “I told them to leave it outside. Jesus.”

  I pull out of her, and toss her my t-shirt to clean up, then yell at the door.

  “I said leave it!” I yell, loud enough for whoever’s on the other side to hear.

  But instead of leaving it, the knock comes louder.

  Is something wrong? I tug on a pair of boxers and hold my hand up to Caroline, telling her to stay where she is, before I trot to the front door. I look through the peep hole. It’s Nicolai. I yank open the door to find him holding a tray and grinning at me.

  “You ordered dessert?”

  “I ordered dessert left outside this door, douchebag.”

  He grins at me and barely dodges my fist as he ducks and slides the tray onto the floor and runs. I’ll kick his ass, the prick.

  I come back in with the tray in hand, muttering to myself. Caroline is sitting up in bed, her hand to her mouth, and her eyes are dancing.