The God: (A Dark Mafia Romance) (Bratva Blood Book 3)

by SR Jones

  She licks her lips and smiles. “I suppose it does. I hadn’t really noticed.”

  She kneels again, takes the tube, and smears the red gloss all over the end of my dick. It pulses, and a clear bead of pre-cum weeps from my slit.

  Zoey bends her head and takes me into her mouth again, sucking me deep and hard. She lifts her head and smirks. “Cherries and salt, nice taste. They ought to make it a cocktail and call it Cherry Dick.”

  Fuck me, if I weren’t where I am in life, I think I’d book us on a flight to Vegas and marry her right now. Instead, I grab her hair in my fist and force her back down on my cock, pushing in deep. She gags, but she doesn’t pull away. I thrust into her mouth, fucking it, fucking her, and I only stop when I’m about to come.

  She straightens her spine as she looks at me and wipes her mouth and then her streaming eyes.

  Like this, with her red-stained nipples, smeared lips, and messy eyes, she’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

  I glance to my side and see the huge picture window with London spread out beyond. “Come on, Cherry Bomb.” I take her wrist and march her to the window.

  I yank her panties down roughly and push them to one side when they hit the floor. She’s only in her heels now, and I kick her legs apart. “Put your hands on the glass,” I order her. She does as I say.

  I walk back and undress as I admire her. She looks like a porn star. She’s shaved, totally bare, and her pussy is shiny and slick. I decide suddenly I want to taste her. Smiling to myself, I grab the abused lip gloss and kneel behind her. Her wet pussy is right in front of me. I part her folds and apply the lip gloss to her clit. I smear it all over her, and she moans and pushes her flesh into me. I throw the gloss to one side and devour her.

  It doesn’t take more than a minute or so before she comes. She grinds her pussy and ass up against me as she cries out and moans, her legs shaking.

  I stand, reach for my pocket, and take out a condom. I put it on, then push her against the glass so her flesh is flattened against it. I drive into her from behind, and she screams a strangled yes.

  We fuck like animals. We fuck like we’re possessed. At some point, I decide the thrill of having half of London’s office workers getting to see us screw isn’t worth the position where I can’t get as deep as I want. I pull Zoey away from the window and bend her over a desk in the corner. That’s better, I think as I sink balls deep.

  Her head is turned to the side, and her face is red and damp with perspiration. “God, yes, Vasily. Please.”

  I don’t know what she’s asking for because I’m fucking her as hard as I can. Then I get with the program and reach around, finding her clit and rubbing it as she holds my hand, guiding me and showing me how she likes it.

  She comes, and I go over the edge right with her.

  When I come down, draped over her, panting and sweating, I’m already wanting more.

  We have more too. I screw her in the bed, missionary because I want to see her face as she comes. Then she goes on top the third time, and I fuck her as I drive my middle finger into her ass, and she nearly breaks it as she contracts around it so tight when she comes. It makes me want to fuck her in the ass.

  Sadly, for my dick, after the third time, Zoey falls asleep. She’s on her side, snoring softly, and that’s just too endearing. I’m watching her, and I’ve never felt so sated. So … at peace.

  I watch her, and then it begins. It’s a faint stirring of something I don’t recognize at first. Then it hits me. It is anxiety. The peace fades as the reason I’m feeling so damn good hits me.

  I’ve just had the best, most mind-blowing sex of my life. Sex so good I want to keep on doing it, and with this woman only, until my dick falls off. Sex so good that I want to take my Cherry Bomb, stuff her in the back of my car, and ride off with her into the sunset.

  Fuck.

  What have I done? I came here to fuck her and get her out of my system, and instead I’ve somehow fucked her into my soul.

  As anxiety morphs into something more like panic, I act like the total dick I am.

  I get up, get dressed, and creep out of the hotel room, leaving Zoey all alone.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Bohdan

  Corfu

  I watch Dasha sleep, and my heart fills with so much love it hurts. Her mother is moving around downstairs already. I can hear her rattling pots and pans. She’s probably making breakfast. At least the sour old witch can cook.

  Her presence here in the house is really pissing me off, and thankfully, she’s started talking about maybe moving back to St. Petersburg. Dasha is encouraging her in this. Last night I overheard her tell her mother she’d be able to afford a beautiful house and show all her old friends how well she’s done for herself.

  Dasha will always love her mother. You do always love your parents, I suppose. In a weird, bizarre way, I must still love my dad despite everything because I often want to show him what I’ve made of myself. Or maybe, I simply hate him and can’t tell the difference after all these years. Perhaps I want him to be proud of me, or really, I want to shove his face in all I have achieved and make him feel like shit?

  Either way, it’s irrelevant because he’s dead.

  I get dressed, smart today, as I have a meeting this morning. I’m quiet as I do, leaving Dasha to sleep. I kept her up late last night. I smile to myself as I think about fucking her in the shower, the water streaming down all around us.

  When I hit the kitchen, I decline the breakfast Mrs. Imanovich offers me and grab a banana instead. She’s weirdly happy this morning. The woman is usually morose. I take a bottle of chilled water from the fridge and shoot her a goodbye as I head out. She says goodbye back, and it’s sickly sweet. As is her smile.

  It makes me suspicious.

  Why has the woman who has been so miserable suddenly decided to be all amenable and falsely nice?

  I click the car keys, and the door beep-beeps and unlocks. I took delivery of the car three days ago. It’s a new Land Rover Defender, and I fucking love it. It’s going to be used off-road I hope when myself and Dasha take it exploring this gorgeous country. I want to see Greece, not just Corfu. This car will help us explore the mainland as we travel around. Of course, I’ll have to fit it around the work I’ll be doing with Andrius and K, and with Dasha’s school, but we can make it work.

  This morning I have a meeting with a local uniform supplier. It’s a surprise for Dasha. I’ve spoken to K and Andrius, and they say they’d be happy for us to build a small school and dorm on the land. We went over the maps of the land we’ve bought, and there’s an area toward the back of the property where we could be totally out of eyesight and earshot of the military training area, which could also have a separate entrance.

  Hopefully if this meeting with the supplier goes well, I’ll be able to show Dasha where she could build her dance school. I want her to be here with me, but to be free to do her own thing. I don’t want her tied to me the way Violet is to Andrius. Not because I judge them for that, as it works for them, but because Dasha has spent years being a prisoner. I want her to fly now.

  I love her.

  The thought makes me grin like a lunatic.

  The meeting goes well, and I drive back to Andrius’ place excited to share the news with Dasha.

  I park the car and walk to the house swinging the keys in my hand. When I step into the kitchen, I realize something is wrong immediately. Dasha is sitting at the table, red-eyed and my laptop is open in front of her. Mrs. Imanovich has a horrible grin stretched across her vile features.

  I want to slap it from her.

  My stomach sinks at the laptop in front of Dasha. I curse myself for using something as stupidly simple as my birthdate as my passcode to unlock the screen.

  “So it seems Jasper had some people come to check the house to see about putting cameras in.” Dasha’s voice is cold and hard.

  Oh shit. I know where this is going. I hadn’t taken the cameras out as I
’m still checking on Jasper to make sure he’s not planning any nefarious shit against Dasha.

  “It seems there are cameras already there, though. Have been for some time. At first, Jasper thought, who could have put cameras in our house? But then he quickly realized it had to have been you.”

  I turn to her mother. “Leave us please.”

  “No. You’ve turned my daughter’s head and ruined her marriage. I won’t leave.”

  I advance on her, and the woman has enough sense to back up. “Fucking leave this room now, or so help me God, I’ll take you and show you that feeding someone to the fishes isn’t merely a euphemism.”

  She pales and looks to her daughter, but Dasha shakes her head. “Go, Mother. Give us some privacy.”

  She huffs and puffs, but she leaves the room.

  I sit at the table and look at Dasha. “Yes, I put cameras in your house. After I saw you at the ballet, I realized something wasn’t right between you and Jasper.”

  “You’re worse than him,” she says so quietly I strain to hear it.

  Is she fucking insane? I scoff at her. “Oh, yeah, cause I’m the one who leaves you lying in garbage.”

  “No, you’re the one who made me love you,” she says with tears sparkling in her beautiful eyes. “I loved you, Bohdan. I never truly loved him, not the way I have you. And for the second time, you betrayed me.”

  “I didn’t betray you,” I tell her. “I saved you. I only wanted to save you.”

  I turn to the side, raking my hand through my hair in exasperation and see the packed bags. What the fuck? “Where are you going? Back to him?”

  “Do you take me for someone so pathetic that’s what I’ll do now? Run back to my abuser?”

  I don’t speak. I’ll most likely say the wrong thing. “So where?”

  “Russia. With Mother.”

  I shake my head and laugh. So that fucking cunt wins again.

  “What?” Dasha demands.

  “Your mother is poison. Utter poison.”

  “What she did to you was unforgiveable, but she’s still my mother, and right now I have nowhere else to go.”

  “Dasha, I don’t want you to go.” I shake my head and fuck me, but I think I’m going to cry. I never cry. I stopped crying when my father was killed by my uncle for beating me within an inch of my life. “I’ve been in a meeting all morning. I have suppliers sorted for uniforms for your school. K and Andrius say we can have the land to the back of the property for it. We can build a life here, a good life.”

  “A life built on lies.” She wipes at the tears pouring down her cheeks.

  “No. Fuck, does it matter? I forgave you when I thought you had me burned and beaten. Can’t you forgive this?”

  “Were the threats even real, or did you write those?”

  I don’t answer, but I know my face must say it all.

  “Bohdan, don’t you see how fucked up it is?”

  Maybe it is fucked up, but I saved her, didn’t I? I saved my beautiful jewel from a life where she was forced to lie in the fucking garbage.

  There’s a knock at the door, and I go to open it to see K standing there, looking upset and concerned. “You ready?” he asks Dasha. She nods and shouts for her mother.

  “What the fuck? You? You’re driving her out of here? Fuck you, you fucking piece of shit. You’re supposed to be my friend.”

  “Watch it, Bohdan,” he warns, the bossy bastard.

  I laugh. “Erm, you’re not my boss anymore. We’re partners now. So go fuck yourself.”

  Dasha storms out of the room, shouting up the stairs for her mother.

  “Listen.” K lowers his voice. “She asked me to run them to the airport. She was upset, very fucking upset. It’s all come out, hasn’t it? You need to give her some time. You can’t keep her here as a prisoner. This way, I’ll see them to the airport and find out whereabouts they plan to be. Ilya says he’ll keep an eye on her out there. I already called him for you. I’m trying to help.”

  Dasha comes back and pushes past me, Mr. Bojangles in her arms. Her mother gives me an evil smirk, and it takes all my willpower not to bash her head in.

  “You kept Cassie against her will.” I push K hard enough he goes back on his heels and wobbles for a moment. He stares at me, the muscles in his jaw working.

  Then he turns to walk to the car, and I lose it. I rush him, body slamming him against his Merc. He turns and punches me in the side, quick and controlled. I want more, though. Physical pain is better than this soul-deep ache. I punch him twice in the stomach, and then I hit his face. He stares at me, shock in his gaze.

  For a moment, I see it. The second he struggles between the instinct to fight back and his better nature. His better nature wins out, and he shakes his head. “I’m not going to fight you, Bohdan. You’re like a brother to me.”

  He was like a father to me. He’s not old enough to be one, but it’s how I viewed him in many ways, and now he’s driving away the only thing I truly love. The only thing I want.

  “Fucking coward,” I spit out. Then I hit him again. Dasha screams as K piles into me, his restraint finally snapped.

  Good, I think, as he punches me. More.

  I get two jabs in, but he hits me in the side and I swear I feel something crack. Fuck, I think he broke a rib. I swipe his legs from under him, and he goes down. He might be big, but I spent years fighting on the streets. I raise my leg to aim a kick at him, but I stop when I see Cassie running toward us, her face horrified.

  I look down at K and realize I was about to kick the man I fucking hero-worship as he lay on the ground. Fuck. I’ve lost it. Dasha has made me lose it completely. Maybe she ought to go?

  Not able to look at K another minute, and not sure what I can say, I turn and walk into the house, slamming the door behind me. I hear the car a few minutes later, so he must be okay enough to drive.

  Shit, it hurts to breathe.

  The door bursts open, and Andrius storms in like a tornado. He stares at me. “What the fuck? I’ve got Cassie in hysterics saying you and K have just gone at it.”

  “He’s driving Dasha to the airport,” I explain.

  “So? She asked him to, said she’d take a cab otherwise. Wouldn’t you rather her go with him?”

  “No, I’d rather he didn’t betray me by driving her away from me.”

  “Bohdan.” Andrius sits at the table and sighs. “You can’t make her stay or keep her here like some pet if she doesn’t want to be here.”

  “Oh, fuck right off, Andrius.” His face hardens, but I don’t back down. “You’re one to talk. You got given your woman, and K? He never gave Cassie a fucking chance. Girl might wake up from her Stockholm Syndrome one day, but I doubt it.” I laugh and then wince.

  “You want me to break your other ribs for you?” Andrius deadpans. “Because I gladly will if you keep this shit up.”

  “Don’t really give a flying fuck.”

  “Listen.”

  Oh God, he’s going to do the sage Andrius schtick, which frankly is a joke. The man is a killer, not a relationship counsellor. He ought to stick with what he knows. What he says next surprises me.

  “I’ve asked Amber to befriend Dasha.”

  “Amber? Ilya’s woman?”

  “Yeah. I think Dasha will come around, but she needs time and space. I don’t think she’s safe with her mother. That woman is a fucking viper.”

  “Yes, she is.”

  Andrius nods. “Evil bitch if you ask me.”

  I nod again, because yes, she is.

  “So here’s the plan. Give Dasha some space and a bit of time. Let Amber and Ilya befriend her, make sure the mother doesn’t get her head all messed up, and make doubly sure that cunt Jasper doesn’t come sniffing around. In the meantime, build that school for her, because the way she looks at you, she’ll be back. Know what I think?”

  I shake my head. “I think she’s ashamed more than anything. Ashamed you saw her the way you did. Shame is a fucking powerful emoti
on, so you need to overcome that in her.”

  Okay, so maybe he’s not all bad at this shit. “How the fuck do I do that?”

  “I don’t know. Call her. Write to her. Talk about the past. Talk about your hopes for the future. Don’t bring up the shit in Paris. Leave it there.”

  I look into his freaky eyes and sigh. “Can I ask you something?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Do you think it’s insane that I made those threats up and pretended someone was after her?”

  He considers me for a moment, then smiles. “It’s not the most well-adjusted thing I’ve ever seen anyone do, but I’ve had a baby with the daughter of the man who helped kill my family, and if you ask me, that might just be a little more fucked up.”

  I burst out laughing. “You want to drink a beer with me? Don’t fancy sitting here alone, nursing my ribs.”

  “Yeah, we can drink a beer.”

  He goes to the fridge, pops the door open, and takes out two beers. “You probably need another trip to that clinic.”

  “Nah. Ribs heal.”

  “Yeah, they can also give you pneumonia if they’re broken.”

  “I’ll be careful,” I say.

  The door bursts open again, and Cassie storms at me, her small fists raised as she starts to beat on me. What the hell?

  “How dare you beat K like that? He loves you, and you hurt him.”

  Andrius is out of his chair and hauling her off me in a heartbeat. She struggles for a moment, then stops. She’s crying, and suddenly I feel like shit. Damn, I wonder if K will forgive me.

  “I’m sorry,” I tell her. “Really. I wasn’t thinking straight.”

  “Have a beer,” Andrius says.

  She shakes her head. “No thanks, but I’ll have a juice, and sit with you both a while. You’re a dick, Bohdan.”

  I nod because what can I say?

  By the time K gets back, Andrius and I have had a couple of beers, and Cassie is back to being more of her usual sunny self. K doesn’t knock either; no one here seems to. He marches right into the kitchen. I tense. Is he going to go in for round two? I wouldn’t blame him if he did.