“Oh...” I moaned, rubbing my pussy against the vibrator.
“Are you ready?”
Panting, I trembled with nervousness. “Yes.”
He rewarded me with a deep thrust. The vibrator drummed against my clit. That thick cock slipped in and out of my ass, building up a massive orgasm, fast.
“I also tied you up because I love learning about your body,” he murmured hotly in my ear as he stopped moving and plastered his cock deep inside me. “I want to know the different ways I can make you come.”
I trembled against him. The vibrator rocked my core. Forgetting that I was bound, I tried to move my arms and groaned in annoyance.
“Will you come for me now?”
“Da.”
He grunted. “Vash russkiy delayet moy chlen vzryvom.”
Your cock explodes...from my Russian?
That was the little bit I could translate, and I wasn’t even sure I had it right. I wished I knew what the hell he’d said. I’d almost asked him, but then he returned to fucking me from behind, pounding into me hard, filling me to the brim, messing up my head with only thoughts of him.
My core tightened around that cock. Those sensitive nerve endings throbbed with the carnal rhythm of him. I whispered harder in Russian.
“Sil'neye.”
Grunting, he pumped into me. Harder. Deeper.
My breathing sped up. I arched wildly. Crazed, drugging pleasure sank into my veins. Blinded and unable to touch him with my hands, all I could do was shake as an orgasm crashed through me.
“Patience, mysh.”
But my body had no more patience.
“Oh!” I came hard, and he did too, spilling cum inside me. Filling me with him.
The vibrator continued, fucking up my nerves, violently shoving me deeper into orgasm until my pussy went numb.
I jerked against him.
He dropped the vibrator and rocked his cock into me some more. “Vy vsegda budete moimi.”
I’ll always be yours? Or was it you’re always mine? Damn it. I’m not learning Russian fast enough.
When he left me, his touch went too. I almost cried out.
Then, he was in front of me, cupping my face with both hands and kissing me savagely. I loved it. His tongue thrust into my mouth, dominating me until my body’s every reaction centered on him. I’d just had him and wanted more.
“Blyad’.” He cursed and took off the blindfold. “I forgot all this time you couldn’t see. How do you feel?”
“Really, really...good.” I blinked, trying to adjust my eyes to the light. His usual perfect dark hair was ruffled, not styled. Lust had bronzed his skin a little.
There’s my gorgeous man.
I studied that model perfect face, all chiseled angles and beautifully masculine. His eyebrows were two dark slashes above thick-lashed eyes that glowed blue and deep. Like when I’d first met him, those eyes were moving liquid. But, unlike our first meeting, they were no longer so fucking cold. There was warmth in them now, and so much love.
“I like when you stare at me.” His lips tilted at the corners as if he was about to say something dirty. Sweat beaded along his forehead.
I shivered. “When we were having sex, did you say something about your cock exploding?”
“You’re learning Russian too fast.” Laughing, he grabbed a knife near the pedestal and sliced the ribbons holding my arms above my head. The cold blade slipped past my skin but didn’t cut me. Red satin fell to the floor in strips. I slowly lowered my arms and he massaged my shoulders.
“How do you feel?”
“Fine.” I widened my eyes. “What did you say in Russian earlier?”
“I said your Russian makes my cock explode.” He sliced the ribbons around my ankles and waist.
“And you said...that you would always love me too.”
“Did I?” He rose and swallowed my response with a kiss, more domination except it wasn’t ribbons but his mouth forcing me to submit. I could barely breathe but didn’t care. I pushed my body against his, clutching his hair so I could kiss him as aggressively as he devoured me.
He leaned away. His words came out breathless and low. “What will happen to the lion and mouse now?”
“I don’t know. I just know it will be sexy and amazing.”
“Hmmm.” He lifted and carried me away. “Tomorrow, I’m throwing a party.”
“Why?”
“Everyone should meet you, officially.”
Tension filled my chest. For Kazimir, everyone meant the Bratva.
“Is that necessary?” I asked.
“It is.”
“Okay. Then a party it is.”
“You’ll be fine.”
I leaned against him. “If I’m not fine, then I’m killing someone.”
He groaned. “You’ve made me hard again.”
All I could do was laugh as he took us to our bedroom.
Chapter 1
Kazimir
In my sitting room, I stood in front of the window wearing a tuxedo. I’d flown in my favorite designer, Vani, to personally hand tailor every stitch. He was a master of sculpture, creating unique masterpieces between clothes and the body. Due to that, my tuxedo molded and caressed my body.
Everything must be perfect.
This party represented two things—celebration of victory and search for new men. Meanwhile, I would be placing my mouse around animals.
In the brotherhood, there was a class of soldiers who were more animal than human. The sick. The demented. The ones who took joy from death, got hard from it. Ones with no remorse or regrets. This class held high ranking, and many of them would be here.
Is this too much too soon?
Usually, I studied the moon and all of its magical presence. Tonight, I had other things to ponder.
I gave her seven men. Now, she has thirty.
I stared at Emily’s new headquarters. The last of the light was draining through the leaves. The security lights had come on, surrounding the building in a haunting glow.
I’d also given her the old servants’ building on the east for her little headquarters. No one had used it in years. I knew she’d been intrigued by the underground service tunnels that led from the building to our house.
The next day, she’d begun construction.
A chilly breeze traveled through the open window. Fall had come to Moscow. Temperatures had already dropped, but the chilly winter months were still far away.
What is she doing over there?
Emily’s building stood far out, but close enough for me to see. It was the other reason I’d given her the property. My office window had the best view of the building, not that it helped. I only caught who went in and out, and that was only the front entrance.
I directed my attention to the new moon.
I always looked forward to full moons. Most people did. With that round, glowing rock hanging in the sky, it was hard not to believe in the power of nature. The possibilities of wild enchantments supercharged within a full moon’s glow. The world felt more magical when the full moon appeared.
But the new moon held significance too.
While the full moon represented completion, the new moon pointed to the beginning.
For me, the moon was a constant symbol of birth and death. The new moon showed its birth, and then it embarked on a journey in the waxing phase, growing and maturing. At pure ripeness, the full moon appeared, but not for long. Then the waning phase would begin, and the full moon would slowly dissolve night by night, shifting into a thin crescent. Birth transforming to death to only be reincarnated the next month.
Like the new moon, tonight would mark the true beginning for Emily. I’d invited the top officials in the brotherhood over for the party. It had been short notice, but necessary.
It’s time for them to meet her.
Pressure built in my chest.
I gazed up at the sky and breathed in the fresh air. No noise came besides the distant movement of my men secu
ring the property. Calm hung in the night sky.
The party will start soon. Is she ready? Will they understand how important she is to me? That she must be protected?
Many in the brotherhood already had their attention on Emily, intrigued with the lion’s new lover. Her guards had reported back and let me know a few had sent their men to monitor her from afar. Others had noted the Afro-Russians surrounding her. Her thugs from Kapotnya would now be living the good life. My mouse had given these men the opportunity to rise in power. Many would not like that.
They’ll have to deal with it. If my mouse wants to play with her little soldiers, then let her.
Of course, I would have to maintain some control over her.
It was a feat I still had not learned.
From the very beginning in New York, she’d disappeared and reappeared at will. She’d followed her own rules even back then, when she should’ve feared me.
In Prague, she’d raced after men who’d come to assassinate me gun in the air, no fear in her heart. No bullet in the barrel. Completely reckless. Wild, she’d wrestled one down. Thank God he’d already been injured. I’d sent Emily to her room like a pissed father. She’d responded by disappearing. When I found her and tried to bend her to my will, she’d cursed and slapped me.
Such a feisty little mouse.
I grinned at the moon.
Now, she listened to me out of love. It was somewhat of a compromise. And listening and following my orders were broad and flexible definitions for my mouse.
I let out a long sigh.
I shouldn’t be thinking about her. I have enough to worry about.
Many had died with my war. Sasha had been my number one and Luka my number two. Both had betrayed me.
Now, I had positions to fill. Two men to surround me and a third to maintain a sense of checks and balances. Three men to provide their wisdom and protection. Loyalty needed to be at their cores. There could be no more betrayal in the days to come.
Now, I have more to lose.
I didn’t know who would fill the three positions. So far my cousin, Pavel, had the best chance at being number one.
I don’t doubt his loyalty. He’s like me.
During the Soviet Union’s communist rule, they deported entire criminal communities of various ethnicities out of their homelands. Many were my ancestors who were forced to live in the Southwest of the U.S.S.R.
The government thought it was a solution to crime, but that area quickly developed into powerful ghettos corroded with criminals. It was snow-covered roads flanked by shacks, and among the poorest were my father’s clan—Siberians. Rough and raw and damn near unstoppable. Many times, blood stained the snow, and most of the time the corpse wore a uniform.
I was born there.
Pavel too.
He was a cousin on my father’s side. Same age, we’d grown up together and gone to the same unorthodox school—the type of school that had no walls or ceiling. No books. Just bloody roads that led to mischief.
At eight, I learned how to stab a person properly from my mother. She’d hung dead animals from the ceiling, and I’d stabbed them, learning the right organs to puncture first. Hearing the sound the right cut would make against flesh.
At ten, I’d already had a little gang—my young sister, Valentina and five cousins. They gave me my few happy memories of winter. We would stand around a trash can full of fire and sip vodka we’d stolen from our uncles. There, we boasted about all the money we would one day have.
Pavel had been one of the cousins from my first gang. Tonight, I’d invited the other four too—Zahkar, Abram, Tisha, and Roman. We would all be reunited. As we laughed and chugged vodka, I would assess who was truly loyal enough to stand by my side.
Are they the same men?
By our teens, we stole from the rich and gave to the poor. Anything taken or gained, no matter how big or small, was brought back to the neighborhood—generations of casted out criminals living together. Food and money went to the mothers. Weapons and drugs went to the men.
Anybody on the outside was the enemy, and I hated them. From that disgust, a rage of violence lived in my eyes.
I might’ve continued with the gang had Sasha’s father not come to our area when I turned fifteen and fell in love with my mother. Still married, he moved us to Moscow and his wife died under mysterious reasons. My mother took her place and some of the connections to my old gang ended.
Once I rose in power ten years later, I reconnected with my cousins. I gave them high positions in the Bratva, but we’d never returned to the way we were.
I should’ve listened to Valentina. She said to surround myself with my most loyal.
I’d realized, in my rise to power, that people died. I’d watched enough men fall at my side. Perhaps, I didn’t want to personally witness their deaths.
Someone knocked.
I glanced over my shoulder.
Pavel stood in the doorway in a pearl white tuxedo. Black fur covered the lapels. Tiny rubies pierced both ears.
Same old Pavel.
His black hair fell in waves past his shoulder. Pavel knew the women loved those strands. He never let it get too short. When he gained power, he began traveling with two stylists.
I rolled my eyes. “I see you brought Nadia and Tatiana with you.”
“I did.” He tossed his tresses over his shoulder. “It’s a special occasion. I had to wear my hair down. I just hope your mouse won’t surrender to its power.”
“Don’t get shot. It’s a nice evening.”
Pavel entered my office. As usual, he didn’t stroll; he prowled forward. As a kid, he’d wanted to be an actor, always walking the way he thought film gangsters did. He never made it to celebrity status, but he had a portion of my mother’s heart. She had been his biggest fan and thought he was so magical he had no shadow. It didn’t matter how many times I pointed to his shadow. She always shook her head.
Mom would’ve loved that tux.
He walked up to me. I hugged him. He was one of the few that garnered such intimacy from me.
When Pavel stepped away, his expression brightened. “The lion is in love?”
I studied Pavel. His face didn’t belong in this century. Too sharp. Too defined. Something from a period where Slavic warriors ruled the land.
Ignoring his question, I returned to our old joking. “Let’s get back to your hair.”
“No one is allowed to mock my hair but you.”
“Because you’re Picasso with a gun.”
“Still.” He wagged his finger. “I believe you’ve always been jealous. Remember 2009.”
I groaned.
“You desperately tried to grow that stuff out.” He reached for my head. “You looked like an ugly woman.”
“No.” I knocked his hand away. “I was too much of a man to pull it off.”
“Of course. That’s what it was.” Pavel smirked and stood by my side as I returned to looking out the window. “You still stare at the moon?”
“I will until it goes somewhere.”
“Did you know Picasso carried a gun?”
“I didn’t.”
“It was a Browning revolver, filled with blanks.”
“Blanks?” I eyed Pavel. “What’s the point?”
“Picasso used to fire it at fans who asked about the meaning of his paintings.”
“Still, why blanks? Don’t bring a gun out, if you’re not going to use it.”
“It was a metaphor, lion.”
“I’m surprised he didn’t die from a gun wound.”
“A gun shot is better than heart failure.” Pavel left the window and went to my bar. “May I?”
I nodded. “Yes. And your favorite cigars are next to it.”
He went to the small chest on the bar, carved from camel bone. “Black Dragons?”
“Of course.”
He opened the chest, pulled one out, and sniffed. “That smells better than pussy.”
“Then, you need b
etter pussy.”
“Have one with me?”
I checked my watch. “We’ll begin soon, and a black dragon deserves time and attention.”
He tucked two in his pocket. “Then, smoke with me later this evening.”
“I will.”
He stared at me. As usual, a secret always lay within his eyes. “What do you want, Kazimir?”
I ignored the question. “How is your room?”
“Impeccable.” Pavel grinned. “Who are all of the Africans upstairs? Seven of them. Wearing secondhand suits and scuffed loafers. But all of them have new weapons.”
“My mouse’s men.”
“Those are big men for a little mouse.”
“She’s bigger than you think.”
He frowned. “She better be with this group.”
I put my hands in my pocket. “I need you to stand beside me.”
“That’s a dangerous job.”
“Is it?”
“Most people don’t last too long. Either they get killed or you kill them.”
“But the benefits are good.”
“Really?” Pavel tilted his head to the side. “Full benefits and all that?”
“Yes.”
Pavel returned to the bar. “I’ve got a nice hold in Novosibirsk.”
Despite the absence of official political status, Novosibirsk was declared Siberia’s capital. It was the largest city in Siberia with a population of 1.6 million. Most of the population lived in the bottom part of the region due to the cold climate at the top.
Meanwhile, Pavel’s control in Novosibirsk wasn’t a small matter. The territory of Siberia started from the Ural Mountains and covered most eastern parts of Russia. It was a respectable position to have, but no amount of power in comparison to standing next to me.
Pavel finished pouring his drink and sipped. “There’s been talk that your mouse has over a hundred men.”
“Only thirty.”
Pavel held the glass in mid-air. “And will the mouse’s men have power?”
“I imagine many are wondering.”
“And what will you say when they ask?”
“They won’t. They’re too smart.”
Pavel took another sip. “Her men are coming from Abram’s district. Has he said anything?”
Dirty Hearts: The Lion and The Mouse (Book Three) Page 2