by SR Jones
He stops and pulls away. “If we keep on with this, I’ll never get to the main course.”
Crawling down my body, I expect him to simply fuck me, but he doesn’t. He goes lower, until his head is nestled between my spread wide legs. “You have the most gorgeous pussy I’ve ever seen,” he says.
“That’s a strange compliment, but thank you, I suppose.”
He grins up at me, then parts my lips with his finger and thumb, staring at me as if I’m a feast laid out for him. I try to move, suddenly uncomfortable under his scrutiny.
“Stay still,” he commands as he keeps on looking at me as if he’s learning every inch of my most intimate anatomy. His thumb swipes over my clit, and I jump as the calloused skin sweeps over my most sensitive flesh. “So beautiful.” He dips down and presses the end of his thumb into my entrance, gathering my moisture and swiping it up over my clit. He repeats this process two or three times and then pushes his thumb all the way in, making me gasp.
Keeping his thumb inside me, he lowers his head and licks my clit, flicking his tongue over it.
“Oh, fuck,” I gasp.
He works me like it’s his job, ratcheting me higher and higher, until I come with a cry as I convulse around his thumb, suddenly wanting more.
I get it because he surges up my body and without any preamble, lifts my ass and pushes deep inside me. I’m still coming, and I scream out at the sensations bombarding me as he fills me while I spasm around his thick cock.
“God, yes,” he grunts as he fucks me hard.
I want to wrap my arms around him and scratch his back to shit.
“Untie me,” I gasp.
“Not happening.”
“Please,” I beg. My orgasm is subsiding, but I feel as if I could come again any minute. “I want to have my arms around you.”
He slows his thrusts for a moment, eyes me and purses his lips as if thinking. “You try anything, and I’ll fuck you up.”
“I won’t. I want you to untie me, though, so I can fuck you up,” I tell him. “In a good way.”
He leans over me and unties first one wrist and then the other. I rub them for a moment, getting the feeling back, and then I hook them around his neck. “Now, where were we?” I kiss him, and he kisses me back. Our mouths move to the rhythm of the increasing tempo of our fucking. My arms are around him, holding him to me. I’m clinging to this man I hate, and I’m grateful to him for this. For letting me hate him, want him, need him, anything to make all the other stuff stop, if only for a moment.
He lifts my ass again and hits me deep at an angle. Oh, that’s good. Not many men can find the g-spot in my opinion, but Vasily knows his shit.
He hits it again, and again, and I can’t stop the cries coming from my mouth. I bet his friend is listening to this. I wonder if his friend knows we have a past, or does he think Vasily is raping me and I’m some completely screwed up person enjoying it?
His thumb, still covered in my cum, brushes across my asshole, and he pushes in. Oh dear Lord, when I come, it’s going to be explosive.
My g-spot is alive to his thrusts as the head of his thick cock drags over it repeatedly.
It’s building, climbing, and I rake my nails down his back, hard enough to make him grunt in surprise. He lifts his head, and I wonder if he’s going to tell me to knock that shit off, but he grins. “Harder.”
So, I do. I scratch his back to shit as he fucks me so hard I see stars. “I’m going to come,” I shout. “Oh fuck, do not stop. Oh, my god.”
I’m babbling nonsense as I freeze, my pussy clenching so hard around Vasily I can only let out a long, low moan. I moan and pant my way through the most intense orgasm of my life.
He comes with a groan and stills as he fills me hot and deep.
We’re sweating, panting, and I think he’s bleeding. It was the best sexual encounter of my life. Better than even the last time with him.
“I hate you,” he whispers tenderly in my ear as he places a soft kiss there.
It’s a startling juxtaposition to the ferocity of the sex we had moments ago.
“I hate you too,” I reply as I kiss his lips briefly.
Then it hits me. He didn’t glove up. Oh, fuck my life. Still, right now, it’s the least of my worries.
He rolls off me and lies next to me, trailing his hand over my belly. “Will you help me?” I ask him, afraid to look at him.
“I won’t let them hurt you,” he says gruffly.
“No, I don’t mean that. I don’t care if they kill me, so long as they make it quick,” I tell him. “I want you to promise me you’ll help Damen find Esme.” I turn to him, for once letting vulnerability show. “I mean it Vasily. I hate you, but I trust you on this. If you say you’re going to do something, you’re the kind of man who does it. Will you help Damen and anyone else who gives a shit, find my daughter? I beg you.”
“I’ll help find your daughter, and we’re going to take those fuckers down who did this to you and K. But I’m also going to protect you against Andrius and Ilya.”
“How? They have every right to take my life for this. Eye for an eye, right? The Bratva don’t do leniency, and I know what you men are. I don’t care for my own life, but I care for Esme.”
“Well, I care for your life,” he states.
“Why? You hate me.”
“Yeah, I kind of do, but I haven't felt this strong for anyone in a long time. I hate you, and yet I fucking want you, every minute of every day. You don’t bore me. So I don’t want them to hurt you. Therefore, unless they want a war, they won’t.”
I consider what he’s saying and can only stare at him as my mind races.
Chapter Eleven
Vasily
There’s a long beat of silence between us, and then she turns to look at me. “Do you want to save me from them so you can kill me yourself?” she asks.
Damn, I don’t want to kill her. Play with her? Yes. Torment her? Yes. Kill her? No. The world is a much more interesting place with her in it.
There are so many powerful men around me with women who are so much lesser; in my humble opinion, of course.
I’m top of the food chain now, an apex predator, and I don’t want a little mouse by my side. Who wants some ordinary nice girl?
Now Zoey here, she’s anything but ordinary. She’s striking. Bold and colorful with her dark hair, and her ink, and her bright blue eyes. She’s also fierce. A warrior should always have someone fierce by their side. She could stand by mine easily, if I decided to make this forced marriage something more, which I don’t know I want to do. Still, I bet she’d face a hoard of demons and still have a snarky reply.
Her beauty isn’t based in bland perfection, though. No, she’s much more interesting than that.
It seems from her, frankly, insane response to this situation that she’s as imperfect inside as she is interesting on the outside.
I don’t want to have to remove this interesting bit of beauty from this earth. It’s much richer with her in it.
I stroke her hair back from her face, and she stares at me. Scared. Defiant. A little bit turned on too, despite her sudden fear. What a strange puzzle of a person she is.
“Who fucked you up so badly?” I ask her.
“It’s a long list,” she replies. “Life in general didn’t help. What about you? How come you ended up a mobster with a freaky lip gloss fetish?”
I laugh. “Life babe, life. The lip gloss thing is new. I blame you.”
She smiles and yawns.
“You ought to rest,” I tell her. “I’ll tie you in a more comfortable position tonight.”
“You’re tying me back up?” she asks, dismay painted across her face.
“Yeah. You think I’m such an idiot that one fuck convinces me to leave you to walk out the door and run off?”
“You said …. you promised that you’d help find Esme.”
“I will,” I tell her. “I am. There’s a man, one of the many guys who Andrius knows, and he used
to work with your Number Two.”
“What?” Her eyes widen, and she sits up, but it’s hard for her with her legs still spread-eagle. She ends up sitting, legs akimbo, hands behind her back to support herself, and fuck me, but it makes me want her all over again. She looks like something from a porn shoot.
“Yeah. He’s going to call tomorrow to speak to you. You ought to rest for a while. Damen is on it. Reece too, I imagine. Now with the intel from Luka, he’s the guy who called,” I explain, “I think we have a chance of finding these fuckers, Zoey.”
Her eyes immediately fill with tears which spill down her cheeks. She doesn’t sob or make a fuss. Instead, she simply sits there looking like every filthy fantasy I’ve ever had, but with those damn tears pour from her pretty eyes.
The sight hits me hard in the gut. Damn, maybe I don’t hate her. Maybe, somehow, this woman has wormed her way so deep that what I feel is a kaleidoscope of emotions. Hate, desire, ownership. The one feeling I can easily identify reverberating through me when I’m around her is possessiveness.
Soon, if I go ahead with my crazy plan to marry this girl, she’ll legally be mine, and I’ll be hers. I might let her go after a few weeks of fun, or I might make it something more. Of course, the kid will be an issue, but hey, I like kids, and maybe we can be a family of sorts in time. Whoa. I pull myself up short. Okay, the stupid fantasies have to stop. I’m marrying Zoey because it will piss her off, and more importantly, I’m marrying her to save her life. Beyond any of that? We’ll see.
“Oh, and tomorrow, we might have to go out for a short while,” I tell her. If you try to get away, I swear, I’ll drag you back here by your hair, tie you to this bed, and not update you about Esme for three days straight.”
She sniffs, and the tears start to dry up. Good, that’s what I wanted. Better her hating me and focusing on that than wallowing in despair.
“You’re such an epic shit,” she says.
“Yes, I am. Come on. Let’s get you dressed, and then I’ll make you some tea, and you can try to rest while Damen does his magic, okay?”
“Yes, sir,” she says snippily.
I smile at her as I untie her feet.
I called and have Damen pulling some strings for me, trying to find someone to marry Zoey and me. I appreciate what he’s doing because he’s going behind Andrius’ back, and they’re old friends. It can’t feel good for him, but right now, Damen and Andrius want different things. Damen wants Zoey alive, and Andrius very much wants her dead.
If I marry her, then K, Andrius, and Ilya will be declaring all-out war on me if they harm a hair on her head. It’s a fucking risky maneuver, like going all-in at a poker game when you have a shitty hand, but you’re just praying you can bluff strongly enough. That’s the position I’m in.
I’m willing to ride it to whatever crazy conclusion occurs, though, if it might save Zoey. I don’t want her dead, and I don’t want her harmed. If that means I go against Andrius and Ilya, so be it.
I dress Zoey in my t-shirt and throw my top back on. Then I tie her up in a more comfortable position. I’ll get her something to eat.
When I look back at her, despite her protests that she can’t sleep, she’s already yawning and closing her eyes. She’s going to be in for the mother of all adrenaline crashes.
Quietly, I head downstairs. I pass Ilya in the kitchen who smirks at me. “Nice aural porn show you guys put on. She likes your cock.”
I give him the finger and head out the door, away from the house. Once I’m a good distance away, I place a call.
“Da.”
“Alexei.”
“Yes, boss.” He speaks in Russian as we nearly always do when we’re communicating by phone.
“If you had to choose between me and Andrius, which side would you fall on?”
“Whoa.” I hear him suck in a big breath. “Boss, I don’t like that question.”
“Tough shit because it’s real, and it’s here right now.”
There’s a long beat. “You. We work together now. I’m your right-hand man, so you of course. But, Vasily, I don’t want to go up against Andrius. The dude … he’s fucking scary.”
I laugh. “So are you, Alexei. You put the fear of God into people, just the same as he did. Well, not the same, you’re a bit more outgoing in your terrorizing ways, but you get my drift. It isn't like we’re going against him in business. This isn’t war in that sense. It’s about a woman. He wants her dead, and I most definitely do not.”
“This is meant to reassure me? The personal wars are always the worst.”
He has a point. No one can tear you apart like those closest to you. A civil war is always the worst war, and if it does end up with Andrius and me on opposite sides, that’s what it will be. A Bratva civil war. Christ.
Glancing up at the house and the window, beyond which Zoey is still tied to the bed, I wonder if I am going insane. How can I be about to risk this for her?
Then again, how can I not? How can I let her be killed when she was only doing what any mother would? She did this for her child. I admire how far she went, and I can’t deny that her fierceness turns me on. Would I save her if I didn’t want her so much? I don’t know, but I’m not a bleeding-heart do-gooder, so luckily for Zoey, I do want her—in my bed and more than once. She’s an itch that can’t easily be scratched.
“You in, Alexei?”
“I don’t like this, but I’m in. I’ll get the next flight I can. If this goes hot between us all, we’re going to be lucky to survive. Andrius is one deadly motherfucker.”
“Yeah, I know, but so are we, and I doubt it will come to that. It isn't my plan to have to go up against Andrius and K.”
“Oh, you just said—”
“I want you out here, as a threat, a warning. They won’t want a war in this situation. They have threats from all sides. Me and Andrius go at it? You’re going to get all sorts of collateral damage, and he isn't stupid. You’re coming out here as a sign that I have power now. Damen and the Greeks are with us on this. We’re all allies, yes?”
“Yeah?”
“So we have a bigger enemy than each other. Now, we all turn on one another, it’s mutually assured destruction. No one wants that. So I’m hoping that Andrius, Ilya, and K when he’s back with it, will agree that a civil war is messy, and no one wins. We all need to work together to fight a bigger enemy. Zoey did wrong, very wrong, and she isn't about to get away with it. She just won’t be dead.”
“What are you going to do to her?”
I smile and look at the house again. “That would be telling. Get your ass over here, so we can put a plan in place.”
“Okay. See you when I see you.”
He hangs up, and I make a second call. Damen answers on the second ring. “I’m going to do it. Marry her,” I tell him in English.
He laughs. “The best marriages are fake marriages,” he says.
Not knowing how to reply to that, I instead ask him for the help I need. “I don’t have time to put an eight-day wedding notice together and shit like that.”
“Got you covered, my friend. A notice has been placed. It’s been there seven days already according to the town hall official of the nearby village. All the paperwork is also ready, and there’s a friendly priest willing to marry you tomorrow.”
“Jesus, the Greek mob doesn’t mess around, does it?” I laugh.
He gives a deep chuckle. “My friend, we have long tentacles and deep connections, and you Russian fuckers would do well to remember that.”
“Erm, okay.” I don’t get the aggression, since we’re in agreement here.
“Andrius is my friend, a good friend. You, are not. You, I do not know. On this occasion, you and I have aligned interests because it doesn’t sit right with me for that woman to be killed. However, don’t underestimate me or the power that myself, Alesso, and Stamatis Kantos have here in Greece. This is our country.”
“I hope you’ll be giving Andrius the same pep talk.”
> “I’ll tell Andrius what I think as soon as it’s pertinent. Tomorrow, you need to be at the church of Saint Giordos at eleven in the morning. Don’t be late. Don’t take anyone except the blushing bride and a witness.”
“What witness? I can’t take Ilya, can I? Shit.”
“Pay someone. Grab a person off the street and pay them. It isn't rocket science. I have to go. I’m knee-deep in trying to figure out this shit, and I have Reece helping too, but man the stuff with these shadowy fuckers goes deep.”
“How deep?”
“I think they’re working for a group of powerful people who would rather we were out of the way, and when I say we, I mean you and me, as well as K. They want control of the shipping lanes and the arms routes. That’s all I can say so far because until I know more concrete information, I don’t want to supply you with … crap, what’s the word in English?” He mutters something in Greek, and I hear a female voice say something. “Ah, yes. My wife tells me it is conjecture. I don’t want to supply you with a load of conjecture that might be wrong. I’ll call you when we have anything concrete. Hell, I’ll probably be back over there to be honest, if this turns out to be leading where I think it is. Congratulations for tomorrow, malaka.”
Again with the wanker stuff. Damen needs to expand his vocabulary.
He hangs up, leaving me staring at my phone for a moment. I’m sure K once told me that Damen was the softer one. He seems about as soft as a blow to the head with a baseball bat. I hope to fuck Alexei gets here soon.
I need to get Zoey a dress and not let on to her that I’m doing so, and I need a suit. We can hardly show up at the church in jeans. I doubt the priest will approve.
“Is she in there?”
I jump and whirl around to see Violet standing behind me. She’s so petite, and her long pale hair blows in the breeze. A few yards away are two men, both ostentatiously armed. She glances back at them and walks farther away from where they stand guard.
“Who?” I play dumb.
She gives me a considered stare. “I know that a lot of people must be intimidated by this.”
On the word, this, she waves her hands at my arms.