Drago (Dangerous Love Book 3)

by Kristin Alexander

  “Oh, kotyonok, it had nothing to do with boundaries or ethics. I was trying to give you space, but there was no way I was going to keep myself blind to what was happening in your life. I had the men and Anya there, but they didn’t know that my interest in you went beyond protecting you from Yuri, and I had no intention of enlightening them. The cameras let me know who came into your home and if any one of them stayed.”

  I almost wanted to laugh at the cavalier tone he used to explain why he kept me under constant surveillance for the last two years.

  “Then why didn’t you put cameras in my bedroom?”

  He slid his hands in the hair at the nape of my neck, tightened his hand into a fist, and pulled my head back. “There was no way I’d have the discipline not to look at you—dressing and undressing, lying in your bed, maybe playing with your innocent little pussy—if I had a camera in your room.” His words sent my face and my body up in flames of embarrassment and arousal. “If I watched any of that, there was no way I was leaving you alone. I was in denial then, and actually thought I was offering you a chance at a regular life. Now, I know I never would have let it happen.”

  “What would you have done if I had found someone else?”

  Drago’s steely eyes looked molten, and his jaw clenched, again tightening the scar I barely noticed anymore. “Let’s just say, it’s a good thing it never came to that,” he gritted.

  I raised both my hands to cradle his face, stroking the tight muscles of his jaw, rubbing the smooth, knotted texture of the disfigurement that only added to his appeal. “I never noticed anyone but you,” I whispered.

  Drago wrapped his hands around my wrists and slowly lowered me back onto the bed, my hands on either side of me. He vibrated with tension, his brow beading with moisture. I finally noticed how much he was holding back, trying to keep himself in check. “Are you ready for this, Katya? For me?” he said in a rough, passion-laced whisper.

  I started to pant at the feel of his rough hands holding me down, his body moving to lay on top of mine. I nodded my head.

  His mouth hovered over mine, his tobacco and mint-laced breath caressing my face. Just as I thought he was finally going to kiss me, he started to speak.

  “Katya, you need to understand the choice you’re making. By being here in my apartment, in my bed, with me. If you stay here with me, I’m not letting you go. I won’t let anyone take you from me. If you become mine, you stay mine. You need to be sure this is what you want.” He took a deep breath, his hard chest brushing mine, which sent bolts of heat through my body. “I’ve never had a relationship. I’ve never cared about anyone, not really.” He shook his head. “I know I’ll be irrational, demanding, and possessive where you are concerned. Can you handle that, kotyonok? Handle me?” he asked silkily.

  Alarm bells were ringing in some distant part of my brain, but I couldn’t focus on them. The only thing I could see was the man lying on top of me, saying words I had wanted to hear for nearly five years—words that were intense, nerve-wracking, and exhilarating all at the same time. This wasn’t just me deciding to have sex with someone. It wasn’t even me deciding to have a relationship. It was me making a commitment to a man like Drago, a man who is about death and violence.

  The man whose body heat was sinking into my skin, making shivers of excitement skitter up my spine, was territorial and aggressive—the head of the Chicago Bratva—but none of that mattered, even though it should. All I understood was the dream I’d had for years was finally happening.

  All I could do was reach up and pull his mouth to mine, almost as an act of reassurance that he was actually here, actually saying these words.

  My kiss was all the confirmation Drago needed. He quickly pulled back and tore his t-shirt over his head, letting me see the mosaic if tattoos and scars that dominated the landscape of his body. I saw the stars darkly inked on his broad, muscled shoulders, and another tattoo that looked like a matryoshka, a Russian nesting doll, decorating the left side of his rib cage under his pec—a strange choice for a man like Drago, There were other tattoos, strange symbols that I couldn’t make out but knew represented his time in the military and the mob.

  In the dim light, I caught sight of at least one gunshot wound and got on my knees, running my hands across his firm, hot flesh, feeling the bumps of knotted tissue, a tactile map of his violent past. I glanced up, and his metallic stare pierced me as he absorbed the feel of my fingers on his skin.

  Still watching me, Drago reached down, unbuckled his belt, unzipped and removed everything below the waist. Little darts of anxiety were starting to creep into my awareness as I stared at his large, naked, very excited body.

  My expression must have conveyed some of my growing concern. Drago quickly climbed into the bed next to me and pulled me against face to face, his right hand coming up to cradle my jaw. “Don’t worry, moya Katya,” he whispered. “You will enjoy every second of this.”

  He slid his hand into my hair and crushed his lips on mine, his mouth and tongue masterful in reigniting the arousal I’d felt earlier and spiking it higher. I wrapped my arms around him as he rolled me onto my back, still giving me deep, wet kisses. His hand slid down the front of my t-shirt, rubbing my stiffened nipple through the thin cotton. I gasped into his mouth, which had him pulling his head back and shooting me a satisfied grin before kissing me once more.

  I thought he’d remove the shirt, but he kept pinching, rubbing, and pulling the hard tip, making me resentful of the fabric barrier. I was about to pull it off myself when Drago ducked his head down and took the entire tip of my right breast in his hot mouth, his hand moving to pinch my other nipple in dueling sensation.

  “Take it off, Drago, take off my shirt,” I heard myself pleading.

  Instead of complying, he moved his mouth to my other nipple as his fingers swiftly moved to pinch and roll the hard bud he’d just abandoned. The now transparent fabric, which had just been burning hot, was now starting to chill, making my nipple ache almost unbearably.

  I reached down to finally remove the shirt, but Drago captured my wrists and held them over my head. He looked down at me, an expression of savage satisfaction as he took in my helpless position. “No, Katya, not yet. I say when,” he murmured, and gave my mouth a hard kiss before returning to my nipple.

  “But…but…I want…,” I gasped, trying to focus on my words while he was pulling so much pleasure and need from my body.

  He moved his mouth to my ear. “I know what you want. You have to trust me to give it to you.”

  The smoky rumble of his accented words sent another jolt of heat through my already overstimulated body. He returned to the business of driving me crazy, his mouth moving back and forth between my rapidly chilling, rock hard nipples and his hand skating down to where my hips were twisting into the mattress.

  He slowly slid the t-shirt up until my belly button was revealed and bent to dip his tongue into it, making me giggle and groan at the same time. His teeth skimmed my hip bones as his hand slide up the inside of my thigh. I eagerly separated my legs, thrusting my hips upward.

  His hand stopped as he suddenly bracketed them on my hips and sat up to kneel between my spread legs, breathing heavily. I was staring at him in confusion when he reached for the neckline of my borrowed t-shirt with both hands and ripped it in half.

  “Drago—”

  “Take it off, Katya,” he rasped, his expression almost feral with suppressed passion and need.

  I reached up and removed the shredded t-shirt, the hunger on his face sending shivers throughout my body. He propped himself up with a hand by my shoulder, and quickly pulled my panties down my legs and throwing them aside. His hand quickly returned to dive between my legs, sliding into the moisture that had started to pool there.

  Two large, rough fingers dipped into the wetness at the entrance of my body and slid up to bracket my clit, rubbing close, but not touching. He circled my clit until I started to squirm in escalating need, opening my eyes to see why
he was teasing me. I stared into his silver eyes, his intense gaze taking in every nuance of my desperate expression.

  “Please…Drago…” I wasn’t even sure what I was asking him to do, but he seemed to understand because he slid one finger down and into my aching pussy, pushing slowly inside.

  “So fucking tight, my Katya,” he murmured as he pulled out and slid his wet finger up to quickly swirl around my clit, quickly careening me towards orgasm.

  “Yes, yes, please, keep doing that,” I begged.

  Just as I was about to explode, he stopped and reached over to his nightstand. I thought this was some sort of torture, but quickly realized he was getting a condom. I watched him efficiently open it and roll it down an erection that suddenly looked massive.

  My body tensed in anticipation and excitement of what was about to take place, my eyes closing tightly. Drago, misreading my tension, slid down between my legs, opened me up, and swiped his tongue from my pussy to my clit, sucking hard and flicking his tongue.

  All the tension that had building since watching him reach for the condom vanished as I screamed in pleasure. His distraction worked—I couldn’t focus on anything except the tongue battering my clit and his finger starting to work its way back and forth inside me, creating a wave of pleasure so intense I could barely tolerate it.

  I thrashed as my impending orgasm threatened to overtake me. Drago lifted his mouth off me but kept two of his fingers steadily thrusting in and out of me, his thumb periodically sweeping around my aching nub. He kneeled between my legs and watched his hand moving between my legs, his other hand lightly stroking his own sheathed erection.

  Just as my orgasm was about to come crashing down on me, he quickly removed his fingers and thrust what felt like his entire cock into me. My body, on the verge of incredible pleasure, didn’t know what to do as the element of pain was so abruptly introduced.

  “Drago!” I yelped, but I didn’t know what I wanted. Did I want him to stop? Yes. No. I didn’t know.

  “Relax, Katya, I’m going to make it better,” Drago assured me, sliding his hand down to once again rub his fingers against my clit in a more demanding rhythm than before, the friction sending a ricochet of ecstasy over my confused nerves, this time with pleasure dominating over pain.

  Although I was nervous about moving, my hips rocked almost of their own volition, grinding against Drago’s insistent fingers, reaching for the gratification that I had just been denied.

  “That’s right, Katya, keep moving,” he whispered hotly in my ear, his accent significantly more pronounced. “Think about how beautiful you look when you’re taking my cock. How good it’s going to feel when I’m all the way inside you.”

  I jolted. He wasn’t all the way in? “Drago, I don’t think–”

  “No, Katya, don’t think. Just relax and feel.” I looked in his eyes, eyes that were shining with concern and hunger, adoration and lust. I saw the beads of sweat collecting on his forehead and felt a wave of love and gratitude for his patience and attentiveness.

  I reached up and kissed him, thrusting my tongue in his mouth, my hands skating down his damp back to his tight buttocks, using my strength to pull him deeper inside me.

  “Katya, what the fuck,” Drago groaned against my lips, followed by a tangle of Russian.

  He slowly pulled out and thrust back in, and while it didn’t feel great, it didn’t hurt the way it had the first time. He propped himself up on his left hand, making me feel blanketed by his big body, while the other stayed glued between my legs, his fingers continuing to twirl and rub as he started to thrust with increasing intensity.

  “Chto ty nakonets-to moy, Katya. Ty prinadlezhish' mne,” he growled. You are finally mine. You belong to me. I’d heard Russian my entire life, but never had it been uttered with such reverence, such possession. My thighs clenched as heat skyrocketed through my body. The combination of his insistent thrusting, his rubbing fingertips, and his passion-roughened voice had my muscles tightening, launching me to the precipice of an orgasm. I prayed nothing would stop it this time.

  Reading the signals of my body, Drago increased his tempo until he was hammering inside of me, both hands sliding under my body, so I could receive each pounding thrust, his pubic bone providing all the friction I needed to find the release my body desperately craved. Every muscle in my body tensed, my toes curling, and my back arching as I screamed as bolts of ecstasy blasted through me.

  I was barely aware of Drago burying his head in my neck, and his grip tightening on my ass in a way I knew would leave bruises, his hips continuing their relentless pounding against mine. A deep groan of satisfaction left his throat, followed some mutterings in Russian, as he jerked his hips against me, sending a burst of arousal through my exhausted body.

  Still inside me, Drago shifted the weight of his damp body to his elbows, running his lips up the side of my neck to my ear. “Moya. Vsegda moy.”

  I shivered at the sensation of his warm breath tickling my ear, but it was he said that made my breath catch. I knew what those intensely spoken words meant.

  Mine. Always mine.

  I reached up and pulled his face to mine, staring at him intently.

  “Yes, yours,” I whispered, although I could tell by his intensely possessive stare that my agreement was irrelevant.

  I was his whether I agreed or not.

  Chapter 19

  Drago

  I was jolted awake by the feel of a soft body lying against mine, something I’d never experienced before. I’d had plenty of sex in my life but had always slept alone, having no desire to linger with anyone beyond the time required to throw the condom away and pull on my clothes.

  Even though my feelings for Katya went deeper than anything I’d ever felt for anyone, I was still surprised I’d been able to relax long enough to sleep. By the soft light filtering into the room around the black shades, I’d been asleep for about five hours.

  I turned my head and glanced down at the crimson-colored hair splayed across my chest, her small arm drawn securely across my waist as if holding me in place. There was no need for that. I wasn’t going anywhere.

  I gently moved Katya off my chest and rolled her on her side so I could see her features more clearly. It was hard to ignore the surge of satisfaction that flowed through me at seeing her in my space, in my bed. I reached up and traced the soft skin of her cheekbone with my index finger, lying close enough to feel the soft puffs of her sleeping breath against my mouth.

  I chuckled when Katya, eyes still closed, scowled in irritation and reached up to swat at my finger. My laugh must have woken her because she grabbed my finger and cracked open one hazel eye.

  “Ugh, what are you doing waking me up?” she rasped, stretching her arms above her head, which caused the sheet to dip low enough for me to see one rosy nipple and a lot of hickeys left by me. On one hand, it was a little juvenile marking her up like a high school sophomore with his first girlfriend. On the other hand, I didn’t give a fuck about that and really got off seeing my marks all over her body. I wondered if she’d consider letting me put a tattoo on her.

  I reached out and swiped at her nipple with my thumb, which caused her to squeal and grab the covers. I grinned at her modesty, misplaced though it was. She’d figure that out soon enough.

  “Oh my god!” she gasped, bolting upright and shooting me an accusing look.

  I sat up just as quickly. “What? What’s wrong?” I barked, concerned I’d hurt her last night.

  “We were in a fight! I’m supposed to be mad at you.”

  I stared at her, dumbfounded. “What?”

  “We were fighting. We were fighting when you left last night. When you came home, I forgot all about it,” she grumbled.

  I blew out a breath and collapsed back on the bed, relieved that she was okay.

  “Jesus Christ, Katya.”

  “What?”

  “I thought something was really wrong.”

  I still had my eyes closed but hea
rd her gasp. “Something is still wrong. We never resolved our argument.”

  Jesus, this was not how I imagined our morning unfolding. I glanced up at her suddenly mutinous expression and felt a weird combination of exasperation, affection, and aggravation wash over me. I had always imagined our relationship being easy. I’d protect her, take care of her, love her and she would be grateful and loving in return. Grateful and obedient. She had always been so eager to please in the past that I wasn’t sure how to navigate this deviation from my expectations. She wasn’t some Bratva soldier I could just browbeat into compliance.

  “What is the problem, Katya?” I asked neutrally. Initiating emotionally loaded conversations was obviously not my strong suit, but there didn’t seem to be any other way to resolve the issue. My usual tactics of intimidation or avoidance weren’t going to work.

  Instead of escalating, as I was imagining, or fearing, she would, her expression collapsed into one of vulnerability. She bit her lip, as if unsure how to explain herself. I had thought her anger was problematic, but this quivering uncertainty was far worse.

  Unable to resist touching her, I pulled her down next to me and rolled so she was on her back and I was on my elbow beside her. I reached up to stroke her cheek again. “What is it, moy kotyonok?”

  Katya reached up and stroked my cheek in a move that mirrored my own. “This place, when I walked in, it just reminded me...reminded me of how I felt when you left.”

  I tipped my head down to rest my forehead against her shoulder, feeling like I’d taken .44 Magnum to the chest. There was so much to explain. I took a deep breath and looked at her. “I can’t fully make up for leaving when I did, but just know that I thought I was doing what was best for you, and it was not fucking easy to do it.”

  “No?”

  I hated to do this because it was like ripping off a layer of skin, but I had to—she deserved to know, to understand how I felt about her.