Sergei: Russian Mafia Romance (Red Bratva Billionaires Book 2)

by Coco Miller

  * * *

  The next morning, the sun streams through the curtains, waking both Sergei and I up. I try to stay in bed, but he gets up, giving me the best morning show of him and his body.

  It’s magnificent.

  It’s gorgeous.

  All muscles, and a tight ass walks to the ensuite bathroom in his room.

  I want more than anything to read today, or maybe work in the garden, but part of me wonders if he and I can just repeat last night all day long.

  Is it weird that I’m even thinking that way? Is it crazy that I enjoy being here? What would my father think?

  There he is, fighting for my freedom, trying to come up with money to save me, and I’m in here sleeping with the enemy.

  And what happens if my father can’t come up with the money? What will Sergei do with me then? Will he actually keep me? Will I live here with him? Will I ever have a normal life?

  I almost want to ask him, but bite my tongue instead. I can’t ask him that, mainly because I’m afraid of his answer. What if the answer is something I can’t handle. I close my eyes, stretching my body against the soft sheets.

  “Get up,” Sergei says as he exits the bathroom.

  “What if I can’t,” I say with a flirtatious giggle.

  He smiles, a look of mischievousness crossing his features.

  “Then we may need to find a few other things to do.”

  He sits next to me on the edge of the bed, slides his hand under the covers, and spreads my legs open.

  “Da.”

  Chapter Ten

  My insides grow tight with nerves. Sergei stares at me like he understands me, and maybe after last night he does. Giving myself to him was an easy choice for me to make, but now with everything going on, I don’t know what to make of the situation.

  Butterflies take flight in my stomach, and I glance out the window of the car, hoping for the courage to meet “his” family. Although, I’ve been subjected to these types of people my whole life, so this shouldn’t be any different.

  I guess it’s the fact that I don’t know what part to play. I mean, I’m his prisoner. I can’t go home if I wanted to. Or worse yet, am I just his new occasional hookup? Ugh, will he introduce me as his captive or his bed warmer?

  We ride in silence, and with every mile we travel, my fear multiplies.

  “How should I act?” I ask Sergei when I can’t handle the silence anymore.

  “Just act like yourself.”

  “What kind of answer is that? Do they know you’ve kidnapped me?”

  He leans closer, and our noses almost touch. “Of course they know. My whole family knows your otets, but we don’t use the word kidnapped.”

  This tidbit of information doesn’t make me feel any better. In fact, I feel almost worse. They know? And they’re ok with it? Of course they are. They’re the Russian mafia. The Bratva. They’re cold, hard gangsters.

  “Oh, and what term do you use?” I chew on my lower lip, and Sergei wraps an arm around me.

  “Kept.”

  I suck in a breath. “What does that mean?”

  “It means you are my kept woman.”

  “I don’t think that’s how that phrase works.”

  He smiles. “It’s how it works with me. Everyone will be fine. We have business to discuss, so it’ll be quick thing.”

  “You conduct business everyday, so why are you taking me with you this time?”

  He doesn’t choose to answer, and all I can do is watch as the scenery passes by in a whoosh of summery greens, and abandoned warehouses. It’s all very gloomy, even with the greenery surrounding the land.

  I can’t make heads or tails about my situation, or my future, but one thing I do know. I care about Sergei. It’s crazy I know. Maybe one day when this is all over, we can be friends.

  Wait a minute, I can’t believe I just had that thought. Something must be really wrong with me.

  Last night he gave me the “first time” of a lifetime. I felt wanted and desired, and then when he held me I felt like I was his whole world, and even now with his arm around me and his hand in mine, I feel as if he cares about me.

  Yet even after we played this morning, he hasn’t mentioned last night or what it means for us, so I won’t bring it up.

  There’s a time and a place for everything.

  And going to meet the ‘family’ after being kidnapped by their leader, after we just had sex, is probably not the best time to face that conversation head on.

  Chapter Eleven

  We pull up to a larger mansion than any I have ever seen before. It almost looks as big as the white house only it’s not white. It’s all brick and vines like Sergei’s. A row of black cars line the circular drive, and a few people stand outside.

  There’s mostly women, all blonde, and I take a deep breath when the driver stops the car not even a few feet away from a group of ladies with hair done up like they’re attending a gala and enough makeup to match.

  As if my skin and hair aren’t different enough, I feel out of place, wearing a light blue dress with my brown wedges. My outfit is simple and summery, compared to their complicated outfits of high-fashioned designers with sharp patterns and buttons everywhere. Lots and lots of buttons.

  When Sergei emerges from the car, the ladies turn their heads, and a few of their eyes light up. A pang of jealousy rushes through me, but I try to squash the painful emotion away.

  Sergei reaches a hand inside the car, with a look of trust in his eyes. I slip my hand in his and exit the car. He walks us right past the women as if they’re not even there, and my eyes latch onto a few unfriendly faces. Their judgment is harsh, and I can already tell with their turned up noses and scowled frowns that they don’t like me.

  I tighten my grip on Sergei’s hand and step in line with him up the steps and through the front door.

  “Sergei, we’ve been waiting for you. We have so many questions,” a short, stout man says with hardly any hair on the top of his head.

  “Don’t worry. I’m here to fix everything,” Sergei answers, and everyone starts talking at once.

  The room is large, made of marble just like Sergei’s. The entryway has a round table front and center in the room, with a gaudy flower arrangement taking up most of it.

  I glance around the room, and there’s about thirty people piled into it. Hushed whispers chatter along with a few louder men speak up. When my father had business associates over, they were always older, grumpier. But, the majority of men standing in this room appear Sergei’s age or a bit younger. I’m beginning to understand that when he said we were visiting family, that he meant we were going to see his Bratva family, not his relatives.

  “Not all at once,” Sergei commands the room.

  It’s sexy how everyone stops talking and adheres to his wishes. What’s even sexier is the way Sergei glides through the room, with purpose and direction. I trail behind, trying my best to keep up, and I’ll just say it, not really sure what the hell I should be doing.

  His power takes over the room, and all eyes are on him, including mine. Silence. Like you can hear a pin drop kind of silence, and my knees grow weak as they all look to their leader to take charge. And he does

  He snaps into action, calling name after name to see him in the dining room as he orders some of the women to make food, and then he glances at me.

  “I’ll be back soon. I need to handle a few things.” He turns to the room. “This is Kai, and she’s mine. No one touches her.”

  His eyes level on someone named Mikhail and a moment passes between them.

  A dark-haired older woman walks up to be. “I’m Darlene. Follow me.”

  Sergei nods to her and together her and I walk into the kitchen. Her tiny frame gets busy with pulling things out of the fridge, and setting deli meats on the counter.

  “Can you grab the bread out of that bread box, please?” She asks in a more Americanized sounding Russian accent, pointing to a small little wooden box on the count
er, and I rush over to open the lid. I’m hungry. I can’t remember the last time I ate. And after last night, and this morning, I’ve worked up quite the appetite.

  “You know. Sergei takes care of this family,” she shakes her head, “I just worry about how him.”

  “Why.” I don’t ask it as a question, just more of a matter of fact statement, honestly I don’t know what to say about anything.

  “Because he’s always holed away in his house, and I don’t like it when he doesn’t come around often.” She takes it as a question. Then her eyes rake over me. “Of course now I see why he hasn’t been around.”

  She makes sandwiches, hefty ones for the men in the other room. “I’ve never seen Sergei claim anyone before.”

  “Oh?” I pop a piece of ham into my mouth.

  “No, he’s always had admirers. Half the women here today have tried to land him before.”

  “Well, I’m not trying to land him.”

  But she probably knows about my situation, so I just watch her as she takes great care preparing everything.

  “He’s never really been interested in anyone. It’s surprising that it’s you.”

  I don’t know what she means by that, and nor do I want to hear this, but a part of me hangs on every word. If I’m going to learn anything about Sergei, I can tell that this woman can tell me what I need to know.

  The room fills with some of the other women, and I try to not notice how their scrutinizing gazes land longer on me than necessary.

  “I can’t believe everything that’s going on,” one woman says, tears brimming her eyes.

  “Sergei is here now. He’ll fix everything,” a younger blonde says with a tight dress and breasts that hate being confined by the tight material.

  “It’s all her fault,” a dark-haired lady says, moving up behind the blonde.

  All eyes turn to me, and I wish I could shrink away. Darlene raises a hand, calming them down before they start a mutiny.

  “Her father will fix it. He’ll get the money together.”

  My eyes twitch at the mention of my father. Ugh, I wish I knew exactly what was going on.

  “I say we give her back,” another woman says with big red lips and even bigger hair. “My Georgie is out of work now because of her father.”

  “Quiet ladies, no one makes a move unless Sergei says so,” a woman with kind eyes and reddish-brown hair says, stepping closer to me. “My name’s Aurora.”

  “Hi.” She smiles, stepping me away from the other women in the kitchen.

  We take a seat at a little wooden table while everyone turns back to gossiping about the trouble my father has caused.

  Aurora is beautiful and an errant thought flutters through my brain, wondering if Sergei and her ever dated. She does have red hair. Maybe he likes redheads. Maybe I’m getting Aurora’s sloppy seconds. Gah!

  “He cares about you you know,” she says, breaking me from my jealous thoughts.

  “I doubt that.”

  How could he? If he cared so much as she says, then wouldn’t he let me go? Wouldn’t he want me to be with my family?

  “He does. I know my brother, and I’ve never seen him act this way.”

  “You and him are biologically brother and sister?” I ask her, my jealousy subsiding.

  She laughs. “Yes, and I know when he’s acting differently.” She leans in closer. “And my dear, Sergei has it bad for you.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Although the plan is to stay the night, we leave his family’s house for a while, and pull over to grab some ice cream. I was thankful to get away from his “family” for a bit. Although his sister was nice, the rest of the people make me nervous. They made me want to run home and never come out ever again.

  “What do you think of my family?”

  “They’re...protective.”

  “Da, they are.”

  “They’re not all your real family though, right?”

  “They are real in every way that matters.”

  “Yes, but–”

  “You must look at them that way, kotenok. All of them are my family.”

  “Okay.”

  We arrive back at the house and decide to eat our ice cream in a room that is designated as his office in the family home. It is full of dark wood, old intricate tapestries and assorted figurines.

  I lean quietly against his desk licking my ice cream.

  “What’s going on in that pretty red head?” Sergei asks.

  I waggle my finger at him, smiling. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

  He pulls me closer, dabbing a dollop of ice cream on my neck and sucking it off just as quick.

  “You taste good.”

  I laugh. “That was cold. Don’t do that again.”

  He doesn’t listen, because he does it again. The ice cream hits my skin, freezing it, and sending a chill through my bones.

  “You like that?” he asks.

  “No, nobody would like that.”

  He sucks along my collarbone, his tongue as cold as ice.

  “Go get on the couch, wait.” He grabs both spoons. “I’ll meet you over there.”

  My eyes widen. “Ok.”

  I do as he says, sitting on the couch as he puts the ice cream away in the kitchen.

  “Close your eyes,” he calls out.

  He heads down the hallway, his loud footsteps pounding until I can no longer hear them.

  My mind unravels with all the possibilities of what he has in store for me. His footsteps sound down the hall, and my anticipation grows.

  “Keep eyes closed.”

  He steps up behind me, wrapping a silk blindfold over my eyes. It’s my sleep mask he slips over me. Chills skate over my skin when he unties the belt to the dress I’m wearing.

  He lays me back, positioning himself between my legs. “We’re about to have party.”

  I lean forward. “What kind of a party?”

  “An ice party.” And with those words he wrenches my legs apart, slides my panties over, and my head falls back as his mouth lands in between my legs.

  My hips buck immediately when I feel it. Cold, freezing. An ice cube slips from his mouth and he rubs it along my soft skin.

  “Sergei….that’s cold,” I groan loudly.

  “Shh,” he whispers, circling the cube around my clit. “Family can hear.”

  The cold sensation turns me on as he licks and blows, rubbing the ice all along my pussy. It’s so damn good. I could get used to this every night.

  The ice numbs my skin as he trickles it across my inner thigh. It feels so good. My eyes roll back, and my mouth hangs open. All kinds of different sounds I’ve never made exit my mouth. I just have to be careful to keep it down. The last thing I need is the entire house thinking I’m some whore.

  My tummy tightens, goosebumps erupt, and my orgasm nears. My breath hitches, sparkles line my vision.

  “Sergei,” I cry.

  He doesn’t let up, playing the ice across my skin. He pushes a finger deep inside me as I grasp a hold of his hair.

  “Don’t stop,” I gasp.

  Pushing and pulling, rising and falling, my body reaches and reaches. This man is a skilled craftsman at making me come. At unraveling my soul. At making my body climax in the most erotic way.

  And I let him. Oh boy, do I let him. I let him push all the right buttons. Turn all the right knobs. He licks and sucks and digs deep with his tongue and finger. Pressure builds. Fire ignites deep in my core. And then it happens. Ah, yes.

  “Dammit!” I yell.

  Forgetting about who’s in the house. Forgetting about who could hear. Everything lets loose. A tumultuous orgasm rips through me piece by piece. Each climax he releases is better than the last.

  He scoops me up, removing the mask from my eyes and tying my robe around me. He holds me on the couch in his arms. Running his hands through my hair, he kisses me tenderly by the light of the moon.

  Later in the evening, after we’ve sat by a crackling fire and fi
nished the rest of our ice cream, Sergei says to me, “Against the window, now.”

  I press my palms flat on the huge glass pane of his office as he’s on his knees behind me. I hear the belt hit the floor, and he grabs both of my thighs and spreads my legs apart.

  His tongue is on my pussy in record speed as he growls against my clit. I lean forward more, sticking my ass out higher to give him more access. And then he goes high speed on my pussy. He acts as if he’ll die if he doesn’t make me come. He flicks, swipes, and drags his tongue all through my wetness. My flesh pulses with need, and I moan against the cool glass. Pounding it with my palm.

  I close my eyes, no longer caring if anyone can see me. Good, let the whole world see me right now. I don’t care. It feels too good. Everything about what he does to me feels so damn good.

  God, please let him never stop.

  Right now, he makes no plans to stop feasting on me. He continues and then, he lifts his mouth away from my hot skin.

  “Does it turn you on thinking my brothers could be watching you?”

  “Yes,” I moan, missing his mouth on me.

  “I want you to give everyone a show,” he lies his back on the floor, “Sit on my face. Ride me and play with your tits. Give everyone the show of their fucking lives.”

  I do as he says, positioning myself on top of his lips, my body facing the window for anyone to see.

  Grabbing my tits, I massage them, imagining his security detail is watching me. It turns me on to think people could be looking. Maybe even be turned on while they see me.

  Sergei sticks his tongue inside me, and I ride on it. My imagination runs wild. I imagine myself in an office window. I picture businessmen in suits, sipping their bourbon as they watch me play with my breasts. I imagine couples making love as they watch me riding Sergei’s face. I lean my head back, moaning into the air.

  This feels so incredible.

  I grind my clit against his nose, harder and faster. He holds my ass with both hands, pushing me closer to him. I’m so close to coming. I can’t even think straight. I can’t even imagine my life before this. Because right now pleasure is all I seek, and I’m so close to finding it. To discovering it with him.