Redemption (The Volkov Mafia Series Book 4) (3 page)

I pull out and her legs drop from around my waist. I grab the shower gel and squirt some on the puff and proceed to cover her delectable body with it. The soap sliding off of her is enough to make me hard again. I quickly wash, pushing those thoughts away for now.

Turning the shower off, I step outside and wrap myself in a towel. Reaching for her own, Emma steps out and covers herself, hiding that perfect body from my view.

I watch as she quickly dashes into the bedroom and throws her clothes on. I feel a sense of dread forming in the pit of my stomach.

Her next words cut deeper than I thought possible. Never have I let what a girl says to me affect me like hers do.

“I’m sorry, Alek, I have to go. This was a mistake.”

I hear the door slam as she leaves.

Fuck, what have I just done?

Chapter Three

Emma

I stumble into my room and dive onto the bed. The tears are flowing freely now. What the hell did I just do? He probably thinks I’m a fucking whore. That I just drop my knickers for any Tom, Dick, or Harry. He’s probably right on that assumption, though. I mean, come on, for months I was any man’s chew toy. They got to eat me up and spit me out without a second thought. The worst thing about it is that I probably did enjoy it a few times. Some of them were a hot fuck, but most were fucking old, bald and fat, and they slobbered all over me when they came. The last man was fucking shot while he was still inside of me, his blood splattered all over me. I didn’t even care, I was in shock that day.

I remember hearing the commotion coming from downstairs but thought nothing of it. Hearing fights break out was nothing new with Ivan, but then the gunshots came and that’s when I stilled and tried to tell the ugly fuck with the teeny, tiny dick to stop and see what was going on. He was having none of it, though, too busy pumping his sorry ass into me.

Then I saw the door fly open, and in came two guys instantly recognising what was happening. Malc, as I now know him, shot the guy on top of me and got the other guy to get me out of there. I don’t remember much after that. The doctor said I was in shock, and it was my body’s way of coping, so it shut down, so to speak.

For days I lay in the guest room of Damien’s house, recovering from the ordeal. The worst of the memories came from Ivan when he broke me in. The same way he did with all his new pets.

The day after I arrived, he had me in that little room. The air around him was dark when he entered. A cold, calculating look adorned his face. The purposeful strides he took towards me on the bed made my knees shake with anticipation of what he would do to me, trepidation at what would be expected of me. This wasn’t some holiday romance. This was hell on earth, something I had no control over.

His hand gripped my chin, jerking it from side to side. His eyes roamed all over my face, and as they scanned down my body, in some dark twisted corner of my mind I had hoped he liked what he saw. Even though he wasn’t a sexy man to look at, he had an air to him that gave him an aura of appeal. Dangerous is how I would describe him. People tend to stay away from danger, but most are drawn to it like a moth to a flame. 

“You’re an English rose. Blonde hair. Bright blue eyes. Lips ripe enough to nibble and devour. Your looks will make you popular with the men that I entertain. To sweeten the deal, so to speak.” His words sent shivers racing through my body. What the hell is he talking about? Men he entertains?

As soon as his lips covered mine in a domineering kiss, it hit me like a brick. I’m the entertainment, the prize. The sacrificial lamb going to slaughter.

“Are you pure?” he asked me. I racked my brain, wondering for just a second what the hell it had to do with him. Then I realised — he couldn’t use a virgin as a whore, could he? I couldn’t speak so I nodded my head a little. “Well, we can’t have that, can we? You’re supposed to be well versed in sex and be able to perform an array of sexual acts without having to ask for guidance. Your aim is to bring a man to his knees so that he does whatever you need him to do.” I’m stunned. His hands started shedding the clothes that I had on, pulling and tearing at the fabric, shredding it from my defenseless body.

“You’re younger than I would normally train,” he continued, “but they assured me of your beauty, and I’m not disappointed. I’m going to show you what I expect of you with each client, so take notes. This can either go the easy way or the hard way, and trust me when I say you don’t want it the hard way. I will keep you so drugged up it will be dripping out of every hole, and you won’t have the energy to go and clean yourself.” His words are laced with a promise to uphold what he says, and just from looking at him and observing how he has been with me, I know he is not a man to be trifled with.

“If you run,” he stated, “I will hunt you down and kill you. You will not escape this place. The only way you will is in a body bag, so I’m hoping you take the easy way, where you will get a nice room, freedom, some time to yourself to unwind and, of course, you will get a little pay. The choice is yours.” I needed to find my voice at that point or he was going to think I was mute, then he’d have no use for a girl that couldn’t scream a client’s name.

“I will take the easy way, please.” And I vowed to try. Survival instinct kicks in when it’s a risk to your life, and you will do anything to preserve it, even if it’s just a few more seconds so that you will get to say goodbye.

“Lay back on the bed, I want to look at you,” he says, his tone I a little bit softer now that he has seemingly had the answer he wants from me.

I obeyed, laying there with nothing on, all my clothes in tatters on the floor
.

“Spread your legs, I want to see this delicate flower. I want to taste it, then I’m going to break it.”

I opened my legs, dropping my knees to the side so that my pussy was on full display for him to look at, to taste, to do whatever he wanted with it.

And he did, multiple times over the next few days and weeks. He trained me to be the perfect woman, willing to do anything to please a man, to give him what he needed.

The memories are vivid to say the least. I hate thinking about everything. It really does make the pain of what happened real, but it also makes the shame that I felt real, too. At least here, in this room, I’m safe. No one can hurt me.

And now, to add to my misery, the one man I actually like thinks I’m a whore, an easy lay that he can use just like all the others have.

I didn’t want to sleep with Alek tonight. I just wanted to give him a kiss, have him take me out on a real date, but things got pretty hot very quick. I don’t regret what we did because it brought my body to life, and I will treasure that memory forever. It’s the thought of his judgement that has me running scared, fleeing for the hills so that I can hide forever. I’m not weak, I hardly ever cry. Even after everything Ivan put me through, I didn’t cry. Not once. He didn’t deserve my tears. They are only meant for people I care about.

But I suppose that means in some deep and twisted part of my soul, I care for Alek. Oh hell, who am I kidding? I know I do. And that’s what scares me, to not have it returned, to put yourself out there, to fight for what you want only to be shot down at the last fence because of judgement. It’s a cruel world we now live in. One where, as time goes on, more and more people will forget what it takes to be decent.

The gentle knocking on my door is persistent. If I just ignore it, whoever is there will go away, surely. But then I think to myself, what if there is something wrong with Anya and I need to get to her? I throw the cover off me to go and check when I hear the knock again. This time it’s a little louder and harsher. That is the knock of someone growing impatient.

I unlock the door and slowly pull it open, peeking outside to see who awaits me. Who I see on the other side is a surprise.

“What are you doing here, Alek? Are you here to make me feel worse than I already do?” I ask him. I don’t know where my bravado is coming from, but I’m not in the mood to hear this right now. My emotions are everywhere; the feeling of satisfaction, also the feeling of regret and shame. I can’t help feeling this way about him, but I do. I don’t want him to tell me it was a mistake, or that he regrets what we did. I don’t think the little bit of happiness I feel right now could take the rejection from him.

“Why did you run from me?”

I look to him with a stunned expression and my jaw must be on the floor. Did he really just ask me that? I open the door wide so that he can enter my room. Right now I’m not sure if I’m doing it out of politeness because I don’t want everyone hearing this, or if I want him in my room for other reasons. Only time will tell, but I’m hoping for the latter.

“I ran because I didn’t want you to be the first to tell me this was a mistake, or that it was no good, that you regret what we did together.” I can’t seem to stop the words from pouring out of my mouth. What’s wrong with me? I’m like a teenager with a fucking crush, it’s pathetic.
I’m
pathetic.

“You’re so wrong, Emma. You haven’t got a fucking clue, have you? You think you know what I’m feeling, you don’t even know me. So how can you judge? Isn’t that what you were scared I would do to you, yet you went and made that judgment yourself. You took the coward’s way out and fucking ran from me.”

His words hit me straight in the gut. His face is tightly set, his pain and anguish palpable. His eyes are hard and cold, like his world has been ripped away from him.

Am I really that vain and narrow-minded that I run before I can walk? That I take a stereotype and apply it to everyone I meet? At some point in life we have to face the music and take responsibility for our actions.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, my voice small and weak. “I was scared that you would judge me because of what happened and how I came to be here. I thought you would look at me like some cheap, dirty whore, and that your view on me would change.” What else can it be? I judged him, and now I’m the one who is ashamed of myself.

“If you had stayed all you would have seen was admiration for what you survived. But most of all you would have known I wanted you there with me. If I had my way we wouldn’t have left my bed, you would still be in it now, and I would still be worshiping your body.” His tone has softened as have his eyes. I see the hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth, and just before I can form my reply, he speaks again.

“Emma, look. We all have crap in our past that haunts us, hell, I have more than you think, but I won’t push and I won’t railroad you into doing something you don’t want to do.”

I nod at him, not sure what else to say. He is hiding more demons than I first thought. I knew about the attack that left him hurt, it was all anyone talked about for weeks after I arrived. It broke my heart to listen to what happened to his mum and to see what they did to him. I couldn’t help, but every day I watched him get up more determined than ever to be a better man. He worked out every day, he ate better, and the change has been stunning. His body has more bulk and his arms have ink that’s like a woven story drawn on a blank canvas, one that lets the reader decipher but only the holder knows the truth.

“Why did you stay away from me then if not out of shame?” I have to know. It will eat away at me if I don’t.

“You think it was shame that kept me away? I didn’t want to break you even more, Emma. That’s why I kept it distant between us, because from the minute I set eyes on you I wanted to own you.” His admission floors me. What am I supposed to do with that? How am I supposed to comprehend his words without falling for him even more?

“So what happens now?” I ask him. I stand, looking up at him, wondering what he will say, how he will look at me from now on.

Will it just be a one-time thing or will we get to be more than a passing nod, a simple smile, or even a shy hello? I know this man’s body, and I now crave what he will do to me.

“You know the answer to that, Emma. If I wanted a quick fuck, I wouldn’t be stood here inside your room wanting to rip your clothes off and throw you up against the nearest wall. I would have just let you run off and that would have been the end of it.”

Desire rips through my body at his words, the sensation in my tummy sending heat straight to my pussy. I clench my fists together to stop myself from running into his arms, telling him to do it, that I want him to throw me up against the wall. To claim me, to own me.

“I think I would like that,” I say meekly.

I don’t have time to look up before he has his hands on the side of my face, claiming my lips. His tongue delves into my mouth, exploring the warm cavern. I feel his strength through his hold walking me backwards. Thank God he’s keeping me steady, because if he lets go now, my legs would give out on me.

I feel the wall behind me, its coolness slamming into my back, the chill making everything stand on end. My body is on fire for him. I feel his hands grip the inside of my top and rip it right down the middle. I’m braless underneath, so I’m fully exposed to him as soon as the material leaves my body. My jeans are next. The pop of the button sounds so much louder to my ears. The roughness of the material sliding down my legs is turning me on tenfold. They pool at my feet and I step out of them wearing nothing but an electric blue lace thong. His eyes roam over every inch of my lithe body, tracing every small curve, his fingers roughly claiming every inch of me.