Russo Saga Collection

by Nicolina Martin

  He scoffs. “Don’t pull the uncle card on me. Your mama can’t always come to your rescue. And since when did you develop a conscience? Fuck’s sake. Do I need to send someone else?”

  I twitch. “Salvatore. I have no issue doing her in if she’s a threat to the organization, but give me the benefit of the doubt here, let me observe her for a couple of more days.”

  He narrows his eyes and stops his pacing. “You wanna get in this girl’s pants.”

  When I don’t answer immediately, he barks out a laugh. “That’s rich. You’re sick. She’s like twelve. She is easy on the eye, though, I admit that.”

  “She’s not twelve,” I grit out.

  Salvatore waves dismissively. “Whatever. Don’t lose focus, Christiano,” he says, using my birth name, the name he knows I loathe. “Sure, fuck her, and then do what you’re told. You’ve got three days. Then I’ll send someone else. Someone with a little less—” he gives me a once over, his gaze filled with distaste, “—conscience. Roarke, probably. He knows how to get things done.”

  I close my eyes and fight down the growl that wants to escape my throat. Roarke Brennan. Tall, dark, pretty as fuck and a fucking psychopath. He likes to inflict pain. He’s a ruthless monster. I know what people think of me, but I’m efficient, and I only hurt the ones who deserve it.

  “She’ll be gone in three days.”

  “Shame, such a pretty girl,” he says and regards me, gauging my reaction.

  I let my expression remain neutral. “That all?”

  He waves me off and turns towards his desk. “You’re dismissed, Christiano.”

  As I hop in my car, my thoughts stray to little Kerry. I don’t even know if she wants to see me again after last night. Fuck, I had to restrain myself when she pushed me away. The urge to rip her clothes off and take her nearly had me staggering as I left her house. She smelled of arousal all over. Whatever her brain told her, her body was more than ready. I would bet a fortune she was wet as fuck. I think she does want to see me. Besides, she still has my jacket.

  She’s spent the morning at the center, then she hopped on her pink Vespa, tucked her hair inside her collar, pushed the helmet over her head, and rushed to the university. Late afternoon, I think she’s going home, but she goes back to the center and doesn’t leave until seven.

  I shake my head. My hours are usually worse, but that’s still some dedication. During the day, I’ve unraveled a little bit more of her mystery. She’s got money. An alimony. Enough for a few good years of not doing much of anything. It explains the cute townhouse on the hill, with the little garden and a view of the bay. It doesn’t explain her scurrying between duties.

  As she puts her key in the lock, I have my plan set. A few minutes later I knock on her door. No answer. I know she’s in there. What the fuck? I ring the doorbell three times before I finally hear steps and a rattle of a chain.

  She opens the door a sliver, the security chain in place. Her hair is soaking wet, flat against her head, and she wears nothing but a large, white towel wrapped around her body. My cock immediately jumps to life and my mouth literally waters. I hold up the plastic bag.

  “Vietnamese. Figured you’d been working late and needed some calories.”

  She widens her eyes and opens and closes her mouth. “Oh my God. I didn’t think you’d—” She closes the door, the chain rattles, and then she opens it. “Come in. I’ll,” she gestures to herself, “make myself more presentable.”

  “I see nothing wrong with the presentation,” I say and give her a once over.

  She chews on her lip and her breathing hitches as a blush spreads on her cheeks. “Be right back.” Then she flees up the stairs.

  I grin and go in search of some forks and plates, putting them on the living room table. More intimate than the table in the kitchen. She comes scurrying down after a few minutes, her damp hair in a bun, pale torn jeans, barefooted, and a white oversized shirt. Like a hurricane, she dashes through the room and picks up clothes that lie strewn about.

  “Had I known I’d have a visitor,” she says breathlessly.

  I reach out and take her hand, warm, soft. She smells of flowers and vanilla. “Come sit. I didn’t bring you food to stress you out, it was to take care of you and make you relax.”

  She comes to a halt, a pile of clothes in her arms. “You’re right. What the hell.” She dumps them on a chair and sits down next to me on the couch. Crossing her legs, she leans over the boxes and glances inside, sniffing. “This looks delicious. You’re a gem. Thank you.”

  “Help yourself.”

  I’m a gem. Right. Some gem. Maybe an onyx? Hard, and cold, and black as night.

  She digs in and fills her plate with noodles, rice and spicy stews. I admire her appetite. I like a girl who eats. Looking at her, I wonder where she puts it, though. She’s thin as a stick.

  “How’d you know I was home?” she asks between chews.

  “I called the center. You gave me the number, remember? They said you’d gone home.” The lie comes easy. I hope she buys it.

  “Oh. And oh my God, thank you. This is delicious.” Her moans make my cock twitch.

  I join her in devouring the food, hungry as a wolf myself.

  “You came back,” she says, and puts a finger in her mouth, sucking off the juices. When she catches me looking, she quickly pulls it out and gives me a shy glance, the atmosphere suddenly heavier, denser.

  “I couldn’t stay away. You have my jacket.”

  She twitches and jumps up. “Sorry. I’ll—”

  I grab her arm and pull her back down. “I’m not here for the jacket, Kerry.”

  Her lips part and the cute tip of her tongue darts out, licking them. “Then, why are you here?”

  I could cut the air between us with a knife, it’s so thick. “What do you think?”

  “Why don’t you tell me?” She swallows visibly.

  “Why don’t I show you?” I say and lean in, my gaze never leaving hers.

  Her pupils dilate and a gasp escapes her. I lean in closer, until her face is a blur, until her rapid breaths fan my lips. When she doesn’t move, I close the distance and taste her. Spices, flowers and that unique essence that is her and her alone. I tease her lips open, and revel in how she melts against me. She’s adorably shy. I don’t know why, I’m not usually very considerate, but I strain not to scare her. I’m lost, though, when she lays her warm little hands on my thighs. I wrap my arms around her and scoop her into my embrace, straddling her over my lap, never breaking the kiss. She yelps, but doesn’t object. Her hands caress along my arms, feeling her way over my biceps. Cupping her ass, I pull her close, pressing my hard cock against her hot pussy. Fuck me if she isn’t damp through the fabric.

  I rock against her as my hands find their way under her shirt, find her warm soft skin. She gasps and writhes, and I know she’s mine. My hands reach all the way around her waist, such a delicate creature she is. I stroke along her sides, up to the swell of her breasts. To my great surprise, she’s braless. I can’t help the groan as I cup her breasts, circling her nipples with my thumbs. She mewls in my mouth and grinds against my cock. I exhale with a shudder and pinch her peaks, making her jerk and moan.

  “Oh my God,” she gasps.

  “Take off your pants.” I grab her hips and push her up, putting her in front of me.

  She trembles as she unzips, her eyes hooded. My cock strains in my pants and my belly aches. Fuck me; I can’t remember when I actually wanted someone like I want her. Is it the thrill of the hunt? I’ve never fucked someone I was ordered to kill.

  As she shimmies out of her pants and steps out of them, the scent of her arousal hits me like a punch to my stomach.

  “Stay. Don’t move,” I growl.

  I take in the vision before me, the flustered girl, her glazed eyes, her shallow breaths. I could pull out my cock, push her panties to the side, and impale her in a second, but I want to savor this. She won’t be mine for long.

  I re
ach for her, hesitate, my hand hovering over her smooth thigh, feeling the heat build between us. Her eyes dart between mine, down to my hand, and up again, her breathing coming in short gasps.

  I move a fraction closer and let my palm rest on her thigh, the tips of my fingers millimeters from her panties. As I move my hand, letting it slide along the inside of her thigh, she gasps and begins to tremble. Her response to me is fucking amazing, and I haven’t even touched her yet, tasted her, fucked her. I hold her dark, widened eyes as I slide in between her thighs, rub along her slit through the fabric. Her nostrils widen, her breath hitches, but she doesn’t break her gaze. Her eyes nearly do me in. I’m so hard I could burst.

  She bucks, and I push the fabric to the side, revealing a small patch of light red hair. I slide along her slick folds, back, forth, up to her clit, pushing against it, and back again. Kerry shudders as I rest against her opening, teasing. When I glance at her, her eyes are closed. I want her to look at me as I thrust inside. I want to see the fire I light in her.

  It’s as if she senses my demand. Her eyes fly open, then she stumbles back, pulls down her shirt, and corrects her panties.

  “I—I’m sorry, Christian, I—” She swallows and looks down.

  I nearly growl as I clench my jaw and fight down the frustration that rolls over me. My cock aches to take her, but instead I nod and force a smile. When the fuck did I become considerate?

  “Don’t be sorry. Did I do something wrong?”

  She plops down on the couch and pulls a throw blanket over her legs, fiddling with a loose thread.

  “No, I… You’re great. It’s…”

  I gotta leave. Like now, or I’ll rip that blanket off her and fuck her no matter what she says. I don’t get it. She’s so fucking ready, and then she just doesn’t want me. And why does that make me want her even more?

  “I should go.” I stand. Her gaze darts to the huge bulge in my pants. Yeah, look at what you’re missing. I exhale with a shudder and turn.

  “Christian.”

  I grit my teeth and turn back.

  “You don’t have to go…”

  My stomach clenches. All I see before me is how I bend her over, give her a long hard punishment for being such a tease, my palm turning her ass cheeks to scorching heat and delicious agony before I bury my cock in her. Does she even know what she wants? Why does she think I’m here?

  I put on my nicest smile, and when she returns it, her eyes shine with trust and hope. I can’t help feeling a twinge in my chest area and caress her cheek.

  “I better go, Kerry.”

  She stands when I stand, looking adorably unsure. “I’ll follow you to the door.” Her voice is small, like a little girl’s.

  I feel like the fucking big bad wolf.

  Because I am.

  I jerk off in a hot shower, blue-balled like never before. I’d give her the best fuck she’s ever had. What the hell is her problem? Is she afraid of me? Does she sense something is off? Or is it something else? I realize I don’t know enough about her background and decide to dig a little more tomorrow.

  I fall asleep to images of my mouth on her cunt, savoring her juices, her scent, her hot flesh, and picture her lips around my cock. Fuck. I gotta have her at least once. I want to wrap that red hair around my fist as I bury myself in her throat.

  “Uncle.”

  “Don’t ‘uncle’ me,” mutters Salvatore on the other end of the line.

  “You gotta give me more time.”

  He barks out a laugh. “Not happening, Christiano.”

  “When have I ever failed you?” I clutch the phone hard in my sweaty palm.

  “You’re failing me right now, boy.”

  “You’re five fucking years older,” I snarl. “Don’t call me ‘boy’.”

  “You gotta learn some fucking respect! Get your act together. You have until tomorrow to get your dick inside her or whatever the fuck it is you think you’re doing. In exactly twenty-four hours, I’ll call Roarke. He knows how to finish shit.”

  “But—”

  “Tick-tock.”

  I throw the phone across the room. The screen shatters as it hits the floor. I stare at the glass splinters as I shake my head.

  “Fuck!”

  A slender woman with flaming hair haunts me. I can’t get her out of my mind. I don’t know why. I could have a woman in my bed in thirty minutes from now, some long-legged blonde, or any-fucking-one. So why am I obsessing over Kerry? Is it because things are looking really fucking bleak regarding her longevity and I’m doomed to snuff out her light? Or is it because she keeps pulling and pushing, teasing me blue? Is she really that innocent, or is she playing me?

  With my feet propped up on the dashboard, I sit in my car outside the center, chewing on my last toothpick. I’ve parked a bit uphill and she doesn’t notice me as she hops on her Vespa and disappears out of sight. I wait a little longer, still pondering how I’m gonna do this. Does she like force? Or does she just wanna talk? I groan. Not exactly my forte.

  I start the car and head downhill as I head for her home for the last time.

  It’s a great shame, but I’m not letting Roarke put his dirty fucking hands on her.

  She’s mine.

  Chapter 6

  Kerry

  Chloe asked me a thousand times today what’s wrong with me. I know I’m a mess. The drive home usually soothes me. I love the view, the wind on my face, the smells of the city. I’m born and raised in San Francisco. I’ll stay here until I die.

  Today, I don’t feel it. All I see is two dark brown eyes. All I feel is his hands on my skin, burning hot. I’ve slapped myself mentally all day for being such a freak and backing out. I breathe him, smell him, revel in the memories. If he ever shows up again, I’ll go all the way, I swear. I don’t know what’s the matter with me, but there’s something behind that alluring facade that both scares me and excites me. I feel a dark streak in his tenderness, a demon behind his angel-like looks.

  I’m probably crazy.

  But something about him, when it feels as if he’s letting go, as it gets intense, turns darker, demanding, possessive.

  Evan was pretty bland, kind, a people-pleaser, my mom loved him. She took it harder than I did when it turned out he was cheating on me. Christian is another breed entirely and I don’t know how to handle what he awakens in me.

  I toss my keys on the side table and nudge the door closed with my knee as I sort through my mail.

  I eat. I shower. I glance at the clock every few minutes and my heart sinks as I realize there’ll be no surprise visit tonight. I kick myself for chasing him off last night.

  The knock pierces the silent house. I sit cross-legged in front of the window overlooking the bay, twirling a glass of red wine in my hands, and I nearly spill the contents. I’m on my feet in a second, my heart slamming in my chest, staring at my front door as if it would bite me, then I rush over and rip it open after throwing one quick glance in the hallway mirror.

  “I couldn’t stay away.” He hands me a small pot with fresh oregano, thyme, and salvia planted in it. “You look like a girl who cooks, and I noticed you had no fresh herbs. Do you like Italian? Have you eaten?”

  I glance at the clock on the wall next to me. “It’s nine forty-five. Yeah, I’ve eaten.”

  It’s like he deflates. “Sorry. Want me to go?”

  “No, no. Come in. And thank you. I’ll go put these where they belong.”

  Christian glances behind him, scratches his dark stubble and steps over the threshold. As I close the door, he suddenly pushes me up against the wall and presses his mouth against mine. I part my lips and let him in, my heart jolting at yet again tasting him, feeling him. He grabs my waist and lifts me, his body flush to mine. There’s a hard length pressing against my belly and a shiver runs through me.

  I’m not gonna chicken out tonight. I don’t care if he looks at me as if he wants to devour me, as if he craves my life force. I’ll let him have it.

 
Suddenly he drops me and my head spins from the sudden change of position.

  “I’m sorry. I can barely control myself around you. I’ll respect your boundaries. I’ve been too pushy, I know. You’re not that kind of girl.”

  “What kind of girl?” I ask faintly, wobbling slightly as I make my way to the kitchen with him hot on my heels.

  “The one you push up against a wall, rip the clothes off and fuck until she forgets her name. You’re like an expensive wine, you should be savored.”

  “What? Like old?”

  He laughs. “No. I’m old. You’re… perfect.”

  I scoff. “Do you always talk like that?”

  Putting the pot on the counter by the window, I turn to him and gulp as I find him standing right behind me. I lift my gaze to his, and am immediately caught in the depth of his dark eyes. I’m falling into that void. I know it, and it scares me. I know I’ll get burned, but I don’t know if I can stop it.

  “Talk like what?”

  “Like you always get what you want.”

  He licks his lips and regards me. He’s a full head taller than I am, twice as wide, and right now he’s got me pinned against the counter. I have no escape. My heart tries to beat its way out of my chest, the air between us thick and heady.

  “Do I get what I want?”

  “What do you want?” My knees get weak from my own question, and I hold my breath.

  “I want… to take you to bed so I don’t lose you forever.” He leans in and plants a kiss on my neck. Goosebumps race across my chest and my nipples harden in an instant. Another kiss, higher up. And another. When he reaches my ear, he cups my face and straightens. His eyes are pitch black, even though I know they’re a warm brown. It’s like he sucks all light out of the room.

  I try to laugh, but it comes out as a gasp.

  “Let me take care of you, Kerry.”

  “I—”

  “What are you afraid of?”

  “I’m not afraid,” I say. Too fast.

  He laughs. “You’ve got that deer in the headlights-vibe again. Do I worry you?”