Deadly (Born Bratva Book 5) (25 page)

Oleg

Every time I finish fucking with an enemy, my primal instincts flip into overdrive and all I want to do is fuck my woman until the bed breaks. The brutality of the world I live in never fails to awaken the monster in me. And tonight the monster wants to eat her alive.

I wait until Roksana’s in the bathroom washing off her make-up. That’s where the mind games began earlier tonight, so why not start there? I step up behind her while she’s bent over the sink splashing water on her face. She straightens as she pats her face with a hand towel, jerking back in alarm when she sees me behind her in the mirror.

I move in quickly, clamping my hand over her mouth and pulling her tight against me.

“Maybe I should come up behind you one night just like this, tie your ass up, shove you in the back of the SUV and take you to the warehouse.” I trail my lips along her neck, grazing the shell of her ear as I close my eyes and indulge in a little fantasy time in my own head. “I’d love to see you naked in chains.”

Her head shakes back and forth in an effort to escape my hand as I pinch two fingers over her nose so she can’t breathe.

“Don’t fuck with me,
devotchka
—I’m not in the mood.” She relaxes in my arms and nods her head obediently. “Nice try,” I scoff. “You think I believe you won’t fight the first chance you get? I know you, like nobody else knows you.”

Her eyes plead with me for the life-giving air I’m withholding from her. I move my hand from her nose and fist a handful of hair instead.

“Now here’s what you’re going to do. You’re going to get your ass into that bedroom and take off your clothes. Do not speak to me.”

I pull her head back toward my shoulder, forcing her to look up at me while I growl in her ear, “You understand me?” She nods and doesn’t make a sound, which suits me fine. I don’t want to hear it. I’m not here to chat; I just want to fuck her like I hate her.

She struggles to stay upright, walking backwards as I pull her into the bedroom. I release her next to the bed and lower myself into a chair in the small sitting area by the window.

As if by magic, the decanter of chilled vodka I called down for earlier has appeared on the small table next to the chair. I fight the grin that threatens to curve my lips as I wonder what Alyona may have overheard when she so thoughtfully poured the shot that awaits me. Then again, she’s worked for Glazov for many years so I’m sure she’s heard far worse.

Roksana stands in front of me, frowning as she tries to read my mood and decide her next move. Until I decide for her.

“Strip.”

I never tire of seeing her nude. I savor every inch of creamy flesh she reveals as she obeys my command. I toss the shot back and pour another one, handing it to her. She dips her tongue into it provocatively and my cock stirs in anticipation as she drinks it down. I take the shot glass and pour myself another, promptly downing that one as well. I raise my hand toward her and move my finger in a circular motion. She slowly turns and I marvel at every curve, every sleek line of her perfect body. The Grim Reaper tattoo on her back reminds me of why I’m in such a dominant mood.

I crook my finger and lean back deeper in the leather club chair, letting my legs fall open to make room for her to come to me. As she kneels between my legs, her eyes lock onto mine. Her elegant hands get to work releasing my belt buckle before moving on to slowly remove my shoes and socks. I lift my hips slightly so she can slide my pants and briefs off. She places it all in a tidy stack on the floor, looking up at me every now and then for approval. She unbuttons my shirt, sliding her hands over my chest as she pushes the fabric over my shoulders, folding it before placing it on top of the other garments on the floor.

My cock is at full staff, weeping streams of pre-cum as it juts out, straining to get to her. She eyes it hungrily and looks up at me through her lashes. I nod subtly for her to proceed, then lay my head back and wait.

Tiny, soft flicks of her tongue leave trails of fire along my cock before it’s suddenly enveloped in deliciously wet heat. In my mind’s eye, I see the broad head disappear between those blood red lips as she takes me to the back of her throat. I white-knuckle the arms of the chair, trembling with every stroke and glide of her silky tongue.

With one hand working the base, she takes me deep over and over again. She cups my sac with her free hand and sucks me deep and swallows, working the soft flesh at the back of her throat against the sensitive head of my erection. It’s almost too much. I run my fingers through her hair, my chest heaving as I try not to lose it too soon, but it’s no use. I clench a handful of her hair at the roots and know I’m a man undone.

I pull her off and tilt her chin up with my finger, assessing her heavy-lidded gaze and swollen lips.

“Now, you will fuck me,” I snarl. “Sit on my cock and ride me like it’s the last time you ever will.”

She rises to her feet and I slide my hips down lower in the chair. Straddling me, she rises up onto her tiptoes to achieve the height that will enable her to slide her pussy lips over the broad head of my cock. I lazily cup her breasts, kneading the firm flesh as she lowers herself onto my shaft. As always, I marvel at how wet she is.

She languidly rises and falls on my cock, the rhythm steady and smooth as she reaches behind me to remove the band from my hair. Her eyes are suspiciously shiny as she whispers, “Don’t say that, Oleg. I can’t bear to think of enduring this life without you.”

Those are her last coherent words before she gives herself over to the carnal energy that bonds us. The sexy sounds of pleasure that pour from her lips only serve to inflame me. I smack her ass several times in quick succession and grin when I’m rewarded with a surge of her wet heat on my cock and my thighs.

I slide a hand down her flat stomach to her pussy, where I roll my thumb over and around her clit. Her inner walls respond to the stimulation by rippling around my shaft, causing those familiar waves of tingly heat to radiate from the base of my spine.

“That’s it, baby girl, come all over your man’s cock,” I groan on a hard thrust as my balls draw up tight against my body. Her pussy clamps down on me like a velvet vice grip as she emits a hoarse cry and arches her back, thrusting her breast against my lips. I oblige, of course, suckling and tugging on the pink nub as she writhes and shudders through a series of aftershocks.

“Fuuuuck…” I clench my jaw and throw my head back, feeling the muscles in my cheeks and neck tighten as I welcome the hot rush of pleasure and come with a roar, thrusting deep inside her a final time.

After I catch my breath, I gingerly extend my legs, making sure they’re on board with my plans to get us over to the bed. I stand carefully, still buried inside her, and walk toward the bed. I grin as I catch a glimpse of us in the gilded cheval mirror; she’s got her arms and legs wrapped tight around me like some love-drunk baby monkey.

We fall into bed, still wrapped around each other. I nuzzle her neck as I start to doze off, my thoughts drifting. For the first time I find myself yearning to father a son with her.
What the hell is this woman doing to me?
We’re in no position to have kids in our line of work. But as I linger somewhere between wakefulness and sleep, my mouth develops a mind of its own and ventures into uncharted territory.

“You bewitch me. Marry me, my Roksana. No more waiting. I want you to bear my children.” I scowl as I struggle to make sense of the thoughts tumbling through my sleepy mind. “But I have no business being a father...” I shake my head, disoriented as I struggle against the seductive pull of sleep.

“We’re all fucked up, baby.” Her voice drifts in and out, getting farther away no matter how hard I try to keep her near me. “That hasn’t stopped the generations that came before us. The same way you and I are born Bratva, our children will be born Bratva.”

Soft lips graze mine as I start to drift off again. Her head rests on my chest as she whispers, “Just roll with it, baby.”

This is our life—the only life we get and the only life we know.

Anastasia

“Can I ask you something, Dmitriy?” I look at him from my office chair as he makes adjustments to the surveillance equipment.

“Ask away,
amante
. I don’t know if I’ll have the answer but you’ll never know if you don’t ask.”

“Kind of like ‘the only dumb question is the one not asked’?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Okay.” I clear my throat. “Is it harder for you to kill when it’s a woman? I mean, you’re doing all of this to set up a girl who isn’t even the one that stole the diamonds.”

I’m surprised when he turns in my direction and the look on his face is so serious. “Anastasia, the first rule when you’re dealing with the enemy is ‘leave no man standing’. You can’t wipe out part of the gang and leave the rest. If you do, it will come back to bite you in the ass. People hold grudges, sometimes for a lifetime -- hell, sometimes for generations. In our line of work, if you don’t kill off the enemy, a descendant could come back twenty years later and kill you. Long after you’ve forgotten what you’ve done to them, they still remember. They’ve been planning your downfall for that twenty years and you never even knew it.

“You know what it’s like to kill a woman—you’ve done it yourself. The only difference is
you
held the vendetta when you killed. This time your boss does.” He taps his finger against my temple and then points at me impatiently. “Get it through that thick skull of yours: your life isn’t your own anymore; it’s Glazov’s. Now
his
enemies are
your
enemies. It’s simple; he wants the bitch dead, we kill her -- no questions, no second guessing. I don’t think you truly understand: if you don’t kill her, you die.”

He turns back to his work, shaking his head and muttering under his breath. I sit down nearby and scrub my hands over my face as I let the wisdom of his words sink in. Even though his words are harsh, he’s right. Up until now the people I’ve killed have been my personal enemies. Now I’m part of something bigger and I have to accept the benefits and risks that come with it.

Even as I trust the decisions Glazov makes as the Pakhan, I have people who have my back now. It’s something I’ve never had before. I’m in a training stage of proving myself and I’m okay with that. Nobody stepped up and helped me when I needed it. My own friends turned a blind eye while my husband beat the shit out of me on a daily basis.

How ironic that a gangster and his family are the only ones who ever stepped in to help me. I’ll never forget that or fail to appreciate it. If it means killing Glazov’s enemies to repay him for giving me a new life, then so be it.

In my old life, my enemies were mine and only mine. Now the Pakhan’s enemies are my enemies. With only a few words, Dmitriy brought clarity to an internal struggle that had been holding me back. He struck a chord in me—funny how he can do that. 

“So I have another question.”

“What’s that?” he replies absently.

“You called me
amante
. What does that mean?”

He turns toward me and leans forward in his chair, resting his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands loosely. “Why, it means ‘lover’.”

“Oh,” I say stupidly, taken by surprise. “Why would you call me something like that?”

A slow, sexy smile transforms his face. “Because,
amante,
I’m an optimist.”