Russian's Obsession: An Older Man Younger Woman Romance (A Man Who Knows What He Wants Book 88)

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Russian's Obsession: An Older Man Younger Woman Romance (A Man Who Knows What He Wants Book 88) Page 1

by Flora Ferrari




  RUSSIAN’S OBSESSION

  AN OLDER MAN YOUNGER WOMAN ROMANCE

  _______________________

  A MAN WHO KNOWS WHAT HE WANTS, 88

  FLORA FERRARI

  CONTENTS

  Copyright

  A Man Who Knows What He Wants Series

  Russian's Obsession

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Epilogue

  Extended Epilogue

  Series

  Newsletter

  COPYRIGHT

  Copyright © 2018 by Flora Ferrari.

  All Rights Reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  The following story contains mature themes, strong language and sexual situations. It is intended for mature readers.

  A MAN WHO KNOWS WHAT HE WANTS

  Book 1: Baby Lust

  Book 2: Veteran

  Book 3: Built

  Book 4: Bambino

  Book 5: Rescued

  Book 6: Leader

  Book 7: Professor

  Book 8: Burned

  Book 9: Worldly

  Book 10: Pistol

  Book 11: Policed

  Book 12: Driven

  Book 13: Lucky 13

  Book 14: Lumberjacked

  Book 15: Protector

  Book 16: Carpenter

  Book 17: Italian Stallion

  Book 18: Gardener

  Book 19: Budapest Billionaire’s Virgin

  Book 20: Billionaire’s Babysitter

  Book 21: Cocky CFO

  Book 22: Fireman’s Filthy 4th

  Book 23: Mechanic

  Book 24: SEAL’s Secret

  Book 25: Police, Pooch, and Smooch

  Book 26: Fireman’s Fake Fiancée

  Book 27: Billionaire’s Virgin Ballerina

  Book 28: Bitcoin Billionaire’s Babysitter

  Book 29: Veterans Day Daddy

  Book 30: Cowboy’s Christmas Carol

  Book 31: Police Officer’s Princess

  Book 32: Statham

  Book 33: Bodyguard

  Book 34: Greek God

  Book 35: Billionaire Single Dad's Babysitter

  Book 36: Mountain Man

  Book 37: SEAL’s Justice

  Book 38: Royal Romance

  Book 39: Doctor Mountain Man’s Special Delivery

  Book 40: Crocodile Dan D

  Book 41: Mountain Man’s Secret Baby

  Book 42: Doctor Bad Boy’s Secret Baby

  Book 43: Cop’s Babysitter

  Book 44: Nanny for the Cop Next Door

  Book 45: Small Town SEAL’s Saving Grace

  Book 46: Cop’s Fake Fiancée

  Book 47: Billionaire’s Nanny

  Book 48: Cowboy’s Babysitter

  Book 49: Steamy

  Book 50: Brother’s Best Friend

  Book 51: Possessive Professor

  Book 52: Firefighter’s Babysitter

  Book 53: Soldier’s Secret Baby

  Book 54: Ward’s Independence Day

  Book 55: Doctor Next Door

  Book 56: Possessive Policeman

  Book 57: Coached by the MMA Fighter

  Book 58: Boss’s Babysitter

  Book 59: Virgin in New York

  Book 60: Rock Star’s Baby

  Book 61: Possessive Protector

  Book 62: Possessive Australian

  Book 63: Best Friend’s Brother

  Book 64: Possessive Cowboy

  Book 65: Summer Romanced

  Book 66: Possessive Prince

  Book 67: Lovers’s Enemy

  Book 68: Cop’s Best Friend

  Book 69: Possessive Firefighter

  Book 70: Football Next Door

  Book 71: Doctor December

  Book 72: Possessive Canadian

  Book 73: Blue Collar Billionaire

  Book 74: Possessive K-9 Cop

  Book 75: Possessive Brazilian

  Book 76: Hockey Obsession

  Book 77: Possessive Boston Irish American MMA Fighter

  Book 78: Halloween Next Door

  Book 79: Possessive Russian

  Book 80: Baseball Mine

  Book 81: Cop’s Caribbean Captive

  Book 82: Instalove Island

  Book 83: Dad’s Best Friend

  Book 84: Thanksgiving with Dad’s Boss

  Book 85: Possessive Italian Neighbor

  Book 86: Possessive Portuguese

  Book 87: Possessive Christmas Cop

  Book 88: Russian’s Obsession

  RUSSIAN’S OBSESSION

  This Russian’s obsession is unlike anything I’ve ever seen.

  His eyes lock on me the first time he sees me, and when he hears some rude Russians speaking about me in their native tongue, he goes primal, showing me a possessive, jealous rage like none I’ve ever seen.

  His intense obsession with me and the violence he carries out is frightening, sending me running…and surprising me when I think of what my first time would be like with this inked alpha male.

  Will I ever see this obsessed Russian again, or will this younger woman only have the memory of her possessive Russian protector?

  And even if this older man in Moscow was so obsessed that he did track me down, what would I do, and what would my family back home think?

  Only a completely obsessed man who knows what he wants and will stop at nothing to get it would keep looking for me...as I'm about to find out.

  *Russian’s Obsession is an insta-everything standalone instalove romance with an HEA, no cheating, and no cliffhanger.

  NEWSLETTER

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  CHAPTER 1

  Sergey

  I tip back my small tumbler, taking in the ice-cold vodka neat, and more importantly the sight of her.

  My nostrils flare as I breathe in the smell of her, causing my dick to go hard instantly.

  Every muscle in my body tenses as my back goes ramrod straight. Everything inside me wants to stand up right here and now, walk over there, grab her, and throw her over my shoulder and take her back to my place.

  I’ve never experienced anything like this in my thirty-one years, and I’ve experienced a lot, although never a woman and certainly not the sight of one so perfect in every way.

  “Another?” the waitress says, but I don’t even look at her.

  “You worked here long?” I ask.

  She leans forward, laying her tits right on the
bar inches from my arm, but I’m not interested one bit.

  “Five years, but I still haven’t found the right guy to do the bra bounce with…until now,” she says.

  Just overhead there’s a wooden rafter running along the ceiling with hundreds of bras hanging from it. A group of tourists was just in here reading some passage out of a guidebook saying the bras are a right of passage. Apparently people have sex in the bathroom and then come out and the girl throws her bra against the ceiling and it bounces off and catches on the rafter…if you get it to stick on the first try. If not I guess the whole world just watches as you keep trying, trying to get attention for a disgusting thing like that.

  “Have you seen that girl come in here in the last half decade?” I ask, still ignoring the bartender’s advances.

  She exhales hard, looks over at my woman with pursed lips and turns back to me. “Nope. Looks like another of those tourists that smile for no reason. Here today gone tomorrow, but you and I? I’ve got a place just around the corner.” Her eyes look up at the clock. “My shift ends in fifteen minutes and we can go there until today becomes tomorrow if you know what I mean. It’s paid for by an oligarch that found me on Instagram, but he doesn’t have to know.”

  “No,” I say as my eyes rake across the body of the foreign girl.

  My nostrils flare again as I breathe in deep a second time, picking up her scent from across the room. The way she smells is so feminine, so delicate, so unique it has my cock twitching and my heart racing.

  I’ve made billions inventing perfumes that are sold throughout the world and I’ve never smelled anything as perfect as her.

  Her body is like an hourglass and it’s time for me to go over there right now and claim her as mine. The only thing the bartender was right about was that she does look like a tourist, and I’m not letting her get out of here, or this country, until I have her.

  But this is so much more than just sex that I want, I want her to be mine in every way.

  I want to fill her with my seed and watch that belly of hers grow as she becomes pregnant with our child.

  She sits down at a table and looks at a drink menu. I breathe in again, my mind racing from her natural pheromones.

  I know scents like the back of my hand. Blindfolded I can name anything, just put it in front of my nose. But this is the first time I’ve ever smelled paradise, and she is it.

  I’m immediately intoxicated, and it has nothing to do with the vodka.

  It’s her…all her.

  For the first time in my life I know she was the exact reason I’d stayed celibate all these years. I strive for perfection in everything I do. It’s an obsession that haunts me, or a gift, depending on how you look at it.

  I don’t think about it at all, because it’s who I am. It’s so deeply ingrained inside me, it’s in my bones.

  And damn do I ever want to bury my cock so deep inside her right now.

  She’s the one I’ve been waiting for all these years.

  She was the reason I stay in my lab most of my waking hours working to perfect my craft.

  She would be my final obsession. Having her and making her mine. Making a family with her.

  “Those tourist girls that come to Moscow are so easy,” a voice says in Russian from another table between her and I. “Ever since Pod Mukhoi Bar got that placement in the travel guides, taking women home from here is easier than shooting herring in a barrel.”

  “Just walk them around Red Square and then take them to bed and see if she makes the sheets red,” another of these pricks at that table says.

  They raise their glasses in a toast, and I raise up out of my chair. My teeth are grinding, my forearms flexing as my hands curl into fists at my sides, my fingers grinding into my palms.

  “We should see if she wants a foursome!” one of the men says.

  “Cheers to that!” the biggest one in the group says as they tip back their shots.

  Before he can remove the glass from his lips I’ve got my hand wrapped around his hand that’s holding the glass. I squeeze hard, the glass shattering in his hand, crimson flowing from his palm.

  “What the fuck!” he says.

  “You want to see red sheets?” I say. “You want a foursome? Well you and your three loser friends just found one,” I snarl.

  I bare my teeth as my other hand comes up, latches on to the back of the man’s head, slamming him into the table face first, the pristine white tablecloth quickly turns as red as the walls that line the Kremlin.

  Another man tries to stand, but an elbow to the face knocks him out cold, just before I sweep the leg of the chair of another man, sending him down to the ground and scrambling towards the door.

  But he’s not getting away that easily. I grab him by the foot, twisting it and breaking his ankle before cupping my hands and bringing them down hard on the sides of the head of the final man, blowing out his eardrums.

  Good, now neither of us will have to listen to that rubbish from his friends again.

  No one talks about the woman who will be my wife and the mother of my children that way.

  My chest heaves as adrenaline shoots through me. Displays of masculinity are common in my country, and nothing says how dedicated you are to a woman more than fighting for her honor.

  No one will ever disrespect her as long as I’m alive, and when my time on earth is done our sons will take over for me.

  And now it’s time to learn about her life, before I put a life in her.

  I take a step toward her table, my eyes still on the men below me as I step over their bodies.

  As I clear the last man my head swings around mid-step to where she’s sitting.

  But she’s gone.

  CHAPTER 2

  Anya

  I dart out of the bar and into the Chekhovskaya Metro, which is very close.

  I tap my foot waiting for the metro to arrive. Looking to my left and then my right trying to make sure the violence isn’t going to spill over before I get out of here.

  There’s a sign that says the Chekhovskaya Metro station is named after Anton Chekhov, which is completely appropriate because I’m just as angsty as one of his stories.

  This is not what I was expecting when I came to study abroad for a semester in Moscow, but it’s exactly what my friends and family warned me about.

  I just need to get out of here and calm down. It was just an unlucky event that I happened to stumble upon.

  But what was up with that guy who was walking towards my table?

  He certainly wasn’t stumbling, more like effortlessly gliding over the bodies of those guys who had been giving me creepy looks just before they did their toast, to something that appeared to be about me.

  I’m normally not a fan of violence. I’m the kind of girl who puts her hand over her eyes during scary movies, in the rare instances I can even stomach one.

  But when that man started avenging my honor I have to admit I was very thankful, and even more turned on.

  I saw him the minute I walked in. I noticed the ink on his hand and the fine suit he was wearing.

  He looked exactly like the kind of bad boy Russian Bratva that I’d read about before I came, but there was something about him that screamed intelligence.

  I have no idea what he does, or who he works with, if he works at all, but the way he was looking at me before things went sideways was definitely working for me.

  No doubt about it.

  Finally, the metro comes and I get on, finding a corner and sitting down and staring forward, just like everyone else seems to do.

  Ten minutes later my breathing starts to calm and I listen for the name of my stop.

  And keep listening.

  And keep listening.

  We stop a few times and then at the next stop everyone gets out but me.

  A big man in a uniform comes and says something sternly to me in Russia.

  My first chance to show off my complete lack of Russian language skills.

 
I close my eyes and sound out my way through it, “Ya nee guh-vah-RYOO pah ROO-skee,” I say, telling the man I can’t speak Russian.

  “No more. Final stop. Must exit,” he says pointing toward the open doors.

  “Okay,” I say, knowing the word is close to the Russian word.

  I leave the car and go find a map.

  Shit. In all the excitement I took the green line north to the final stop. I was supposed to take the green line south one stop and then transfer to the red line, which takes me right to Universitet station, where I study at Lomonosov Moscow State University, or simply MSU as it’s known.

  I walk through the exit corridor onto the other platform waiting for the train south. I’m going to be late for my very first class now.

  Talk about getting off on the wrong foot.

  As I wait for the metro to arrive my mind flashes back to the incident over and over again, and strangely enough the man’s feet.

 

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