by Jagger Cole
“Very much,” I growl, feeling my desire for her surge.
“What if we wait until the bullet wound to your chest heals, at least a little bit?”
“A little bit,” I grunt. “That’s about my limit though.”
She giggles as she kisses me again. “Well, I’m not going anywhere. Besides, even if I did, you’d probably find me, wouldn’t you?”
“I would.”
“Good,” she says with heat in her voice. She sinks against me. Her lips crush to mine, and I groan as I kiss her back. My arms circle her, keeping her close—exactly where she should be.
My butterfly. My spark of color. My angel.
My one good thing—forever.
Epilogue
Nina
Six Months Later:
The water runs over my skin, and I close my eyes. I let my muscles relax, easing up after a long day, and then a punishing workout after. I drop my forehead to the wall as my hands soap my body. They pause when they slip across the scar on my rib. But it’s just one more part of my past now. One more scar that my fiancé loves to run his lips over tenderly.
It’s been six months since that night. My wounds are healed, and so are Kostya’s. Healed on the outside by care and doctors. Healed on the inside by each other.
The horrors of our past will never actually be erased or forgotten. But that’s okay. With each other, there’s a future, and that’s where I look now.
Viktor’s “you’ll have to earn my trust” speech to Kostya is also a thing of the distant past now. It wasn’t instant, but it didn’t take long for Kostya to “prove” himself to my brother. Having already saved me, several times over, was the bulk of it. But when Kostya found the right position within Viktor’s empire, it cemented it.
Aside from the Kashenko business itself, Viktor and Fiona run an organization that stops traffickers who target children around the world. Most of it is very above-board—a lot of money that goes to outreach and help. A lot of policy work with governments and police organizations.
But then, there’s the darker part of it. The secret shadow war that Viktor and the Bratva fight against those that would harm children. And it would seem that Kostya has a special talent for killing people who prey on children.
A very slow, drawn out, punishing talent.
He may be a new man. But he’s still “The Beast” to those who would harm the innocents of the world. Viktor’s seen that, and it’s made him and Kostya thick as thieves now.
Oh, and Kostya is also still very much “The Beast” somewhere else: our bed. I have zero complaints in that department.
The water streams over me, washing away the soap and the day. But suddenly, I hear a creak. I frown, tensing.
“Hello?”
The bathroom is filled with steam. I peer through the steamed-up glass door.
“Hello?”
I hear nothing. Slowly, I wipe away the condensation on the glass. And instantly, I gasp at the huge shape looming on the other side of it.
I jump back as the figure yanks the door open.
“Oh my God!” I gasp. I lunge, but the huge man is faster. Before I can get past him, he grabs me, making me tremble as he slams me back against the tiled wall. I whimper as he spins me, pressing my cheek to the warm tiles. I tremble, my body betraying me as I feel his rough hands all over me.
“Please…”
“There’s no getting away from me,” he snarls.
I whimper. And I’m wet—from much more than the shower. I feel a throb of pure lust, aching for what I know he wants to give me, any way he can.
I push back, but he’s so much stronger. He pins me to the wall, and I feel his rock-hard muscles surge against me. And then I feel it.
“Oh fuck!” I whimper. “Wait, please!”
“Not for anything, little one,” he rasps into my ear.
His hand slips between my legs, and I moan when his fingers strum my wet lips and rub my clit.
“Not when you’re this ready for me. Not when your greedy little pussy is so hungry for me,” he growls. “Is this what you wanted, greedy girl?”
He pushes the fat, swollen head of his cock against my lips. I tremble
“I—”
“Is this what you were craving? What you wanted to feel push…”
He slips the head inside, and my jaw drops.
“Oh fuck…”
“All alone here in the shower,” he grunts. “Naughty girl, leaving your front door open like that. Were you hoping for this? That I’d come in here and take what I want from you?”
I whimper.
“I didn’t hear you,” he groans.
“Yes!” I gasp.
His knee suddenly roughly spreads my legs. My toes curl against the tiled floor as I feel his cock push into me.
“Oh my fucking…”
He’s so big. He’s so insanely big that it almost feels like he’ll never fit. But he pushes, and my eyes roll back in pure pleasure as he sinks into me.
“Oh God…” I gasp.
“Fuck,” he snarls as he shoves his cock deep. He pushes it deeper and deeper, giving me every swollen inch of him. My tits press to the tiles. My body gives in to the pleasure.
He slides back out, but then immediately pounds into me, giving me exactly what I crave. I moan, my face burning as I do. His big hands grip me, pinning me to the wall as he fucks me hard and deep, like a fucking savage taking what he wants.
And I love it. I moan for him. I gasp and beg for more, mewling my pleasure into the steaming shower.
“Give me your cum, little one,” he rasps. “Give me that orgasm. Give it to me,” he snarls.
He rubs my clit as he thrust into me, hard. His abs slap my ass as I scream in pleasure. And then suddenly, I’m coming.
I scream, loudly, the pleasure falling from my lips. He groans, thrusting into me again and again. Until through my haze of orgasming, I feel his massive dick swell so huge inside of me.
He grunts, and I feel it.
“Oh my fucking God,” I whimper.
I feel his hot cum spill deep in me, filling me to the brim and then dripping down my thighs. He groans, fucking me over and over, until he’s made a sticky, lewd mess of me.
I’m panting, clawing at the wall, with my toes still curled against the floor. My body trembles and throbs from the thorough fucking he’s just given me.
“Well well well,” the huge man still deep inside of me growls into my ear. “What would your fiancé say about you moaning so sweetly while getting fucked like a bad girl?”
I grin. Slowly, I turn in his arms. I stand on my tip toes and kiss him deeply.
“I don’t know, shall we ask him?”
Kostya grins. “I say ‘hi, honey, how was your day?’”
“Fantastic, after that,” I giggle.
“You know what else I think?”
“What?”
“That I love you.”
I grin. “You think, huh?”
“Semantics. I love you, angel.”
I sink into him, kissing him deeply as his arms circle me. “I love you too.”
“You know what else I think?”
“Hmm?”
“I’m not even close to being done with you yet.”
“Good,” I whisper. “Because I’m all yours.”
“I know.”
He kisses me as I melt against him. His thick cock surges against me. I moan as his hands scoop me up as my legs circle him.
There was a time I knew only pain and fear. Now, the man of my dreams makes sure all I know is pleasure and love—as I do to him.
I used to dream of an escape. Now, I have it. And I’m never letting him go.
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Paying The Bratva’s Debt Preview
Thirsty for more Bratva bad boys? Hunted By The Bratva Beast is its own standalone story. But if you’d like to catch up, Viktor and Fiona’s story, Paying The Bratva’s Debt, is available exclusively on Amazon and in Kindle Unlimited, and has been an Amazon top 100 seller.
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Lev and Zoey’s story, The Bratva’s Stolen Bride, is also available on Amazon and in Kindle Unlimited, and has also been an Amazon top 100 seller.
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Read on for a sneak peek of Paying The Bratva’s Debt.
Chapter 1
Fiona
This party sucks.
I fidget to myself, glancing around the crowd. It’s a lot more people than I’m used to seeing, which is having an effect on my nerves a little. There’s only maybe forty people here, but still. For me, with the walled, ivory tower life I lead?
Well, it’s a lot.
What’s worse is that the party is my party. Or at least, it’s being thrown for me by my father. And when Chicago District Attorney Thomas Murray says jump? Well, you jump. Or show up to his daughter’s graduation party, as the case may be.
But the premise and the invitations are wrong. This party isn’t really for me. I mean on the surface it is. But just like everything when it comes to my father, this all boils down to his own political agenda. Everything always has. Where I attended school. The friends I had. The boyfriends I wasn’t allowed to have. Smile for the press, Fiona. Make sure you’re on the debate team at school—the press will eat it up when they see you following in my footsteps.
Part of me wanted to fail, at anything, just to spite him. I dreamed of being the monkey wrench in his scheming and plotting. But I could never bring myself to do it. So instead, I did what he wanted me to do: succeed. And now here I am, twenty-two years old after graduating college now law school early as well. All the right grades. All the right degrees, from all the right schools. All the right friends, no boys.
“Why the fuck are you not drinking?”
I grin and turn. Well, not all the right friends.
Zoey would be the one exception to my dad’s strict rules on who I see or hang out with. I may have been home schooled because my father rarely allows me to even leave our uptown townhouse. He may have pulled serious political strings to get college and law school to let me take classes remotely. I might have had my extracurricular activities and my friends hand-picked to make his political career look the best it could. But somehow, Zoey Stone slipped through the cracks.
It’s not like she’s completely bad news or anything. On the surface, she’s even exactly who my father would want me to hang out with—from the right family, has the money, goes to the right schools, and all of that crap. But she also has the freedom I don’t, complete with the ability to make bad choices, date glamorous older men, and party when she wants to. She’s almost certainly a bad influence. But sometimes, you need a little bad influencing.
It should make zero sense that my father would allow me to even live in the same zip code as her. But Zoey’s mom and mine were best friends. Cancer took them both around the same time, almost ten years ago. I guess even “image is everything” Thomas Murray wasn’t stone-cold enough to block me from hanging out with Zoey here and there after that.
“Oh my God, I’m so glad you’re here.”
Zoey grins and hugs me close. “And miss this debacle? Of course I’m here.”
“And of course, to support your dear friend Fiona while she’s made to play a pawn in a game she hates?”
Zoey grins. “That too. So…” she turns to glance over the huge crowd of guests. “How many of these people do you actually know?”
“Like, four of them.”
“Not including me?”
“Three.”
She laughs and turns to snag two Champagne flutes off a passing tray. “Here. Cheers, and congratulations!” She clinks her glass to mine. “And I’m really proud of you, you know.”
I grin, allowing myself to bask in the praise. My dad might have a ton of money and political influence. But I earned the accolades. I worked my ass off to graduate college early, get into law school, and then graduate that early too, with honors.
“Thanks,” I smile.
“And how many of these people you don’t know have come up to gush congratulations?”
“Oh, all of them. So long as my dad was looking.”
Zoey smirks. “So, he’s really doing it, huh?”
“Yep,” I mutter dryly.
Like I said, none of this is really for me. I’m the centerpiece, I guess. I’m the excuse for bringing all of these people here to my father’s townhouse. But the real goal here is money. Unofficially, this is Thomas Murray’s first fundraising gala for his bid to run for Mayor of Chicago. And having me here plays so well into that it might as well be movie scripted.
There’s not a single thing my father won’t or hasn’t used for his own agenda. After my mom died, Thomas Murray became the poster-boy for the hard-working single father. He played himself up like this Kennedy figure who was also raising his daughter all by his lonesome, tirelessly.
It was all bullshit, of course. My father didn’t raise me, an army of nannies, private tutors, and “finishing class” instructors to make sure I was ladylike enough for high society did. Not to mention the private chefs, maids, and personal shoppers because God forbid I go out to buy my own clothes.
“Hey, you look fucking hot by the way.”
I grin, blushing. “Thanks.”
“Now finish that,” she nods at my flute.
“I just got it!”
“And I’m going to go get us more, so…” she makes a “speed it up” motion with her hand. I laugh as I knock back the champagne and hand her the glass. I choke slightly, and she grins.
“Just gotta open the throat, Fi.”
“Yeah, thanks.”
“Relax the jaw, use lots of tongue. Eye contact is always—”
“Oh my God…”
She laughs as my face burns hotly. “Fancy law school degree at twenty-two, lots of job prospects, and a dad who’s going to be mayor. The only thing we need to do now is finally get you laid.”
I groan, feeling my face burn. “I’m fine, thanks.”
She giggles. “No, you’re not. Trust me. Okay I’ll be back with more booze.”
I shake my head and watch my friend disappear into the crowd.
“You look thirsty.”
I turn at the man’s voice. He’s handsome, and smug looking, and he reeks of old money. His blond hair is perfectly swept back and to the side, his square chin right off of a reality TV show poster.
“Chet,” he smiles. He passes me a champagne flute.
“Oh, thanks, but my friend—”
He ignores me and presses the glass into my hand. “And congratulations on your graduation.”
I smile. “Um, thank you.”
“So, has anyone scooped you up yet?”
“Hmm?”
He grins. “Any firms.”
“Oh, no. Not yet. I haven’t actually taken my bar exam—”
“Well, they will.”
I smile back at him. “Well, thank you, I appreciate—”
“I mean with your dad being Mayor and all.”
Being cut off is such a pet peeve. But I force a smile. “Well, we’ll see.”
“It won’t hurt, right?”
“I mean—”
“And you’re smart, graduated the right school,” he winks. “Beautiful…”
I blush, even though I know it’s a lame line.
“Thanks.”
“You know, my firm is actually looking. Cooper and Cooperman? Yeah I’m a senior partner there.”
Of course he is. The man has “smug, rich, privileged douchebag” written all over him.
“Oh, wow, really?” I ask with zero actual interest. This is exactly the kind of man my father ultimat
ely wants me to be with. It wouldn’t even surprise me if he’s the one that sent him over to talk with me.
“Yep,” Chet grins smugly. “I could probably pull some strings. Talk to the partners, get you in there for an interview.”
My jaw drops in shock. “Oh my God, are you serious?!”
He grins. “Of course! What are you doing tomorrow night?”
My heart races. “Oh my God, nothing! Nothing at all! I could definitely come in and talk—”
“I was thinking more going out.”
“Oh! Okay, yeah, I could also—”
“You know with your dad taking office, you and me could be quite the power couple.”
The record scratches in my head. Yep, there it is. And naïve me walked right into it. There’s no pulling strings with the partners. He just wants to take me out. Even as I’m thinking it, I see Chet glance back around the room. Sure enough, there’s my dad, watching.
“My dad put you up to this, didn’t he?”
“Oh, no! No way!” Chet quickly backtracks. “I just wanted to introduce myself.”
“Is your firm really hiring?”
“Yes? I mean, for you—”
I groan. “Well, it was really nice to meet you, but—”
“Don’t you have a sewer to crawl back into, Chet?”
Zoey suddenly shoves her way between us, glaring at him.
“Zoey Stone,” he growls, frowning.
“She’s not interested. Fly away, scumbag.”
“Why don’t you let her speak for—”
“Trust me, she’s not interested. You’re not her type, Chet.”
He glares at her, and then turns to me. “Why don’t we let Fiona tell us what her type is?”
“Because I already know it’s not the type who like his girls young, rich, and unconscious, Chet,” she hisses.
He bristles, snarling at her. “Listen to me, you little—”
“Fuck off, Chet. Now.”
“Cunt,” he mutters. He glares at Zoey before he turns and slinks away.