Shotgun Wedding: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance (11 page)

My best friend is in her element: she's drunk, she's dancing, and she's forgotten all the woes of a public school teacher. Elle flips her hair to the left and the right, shaking her ass—and then she almost falls off the table.

Dacko pushes her back up and I realize he looks
terrified
.

"She's fine!" I shout down at him.

"I'm not worried about her," Dacko yells up at me. "
Please
, Mrs. Petrokov,
please
answer your phone."

It takes me a minute to realize:
I'm
Mrs. Petrokov. Well, not technically. It's not like I've changed my name or anything.

"Still just Ms. O'Malley, Dacko." I shake my hips and hair in time to the music. This whipping-your-hair thing is fun. Then I realize, I don't even know where my phone is. Or my purse. Or what time it is.

"Wait, why do I need to answer my phone?" I lean down to ask Dacko, who's clearly sweating.

And then I see why.

Gray is pushing his way through the crowd. He's a head taller than everyone, wearing all black, his tattoos snaking up toward his…
absolutely enraged face
.

"What the ever-living fuck?" I think.

Oh wait. Oops. I say it out loud.

"Sir, I'm sorry. I tried to get them to leave an hour ago," Dacko begins babbling. Gray completely ignores him. He looks up at Elle, who's watching him with awestruck eyes.

"Is
this
your Gray?" Elle whispers. Or, she intends to whisper, because she leans toward my table and puts her hands around her mouth like she's telling me a secret.

But she shouts it loud enough that even the bartenders can hear her.

Gray walks up to my table and holds up his hand like an English lord helping a lady from a carriage. He obviously expects me to get down, go home, and basically follow after him like a puppy.

His gesture is so sweet I almost take his hand, then I remember I won't tolerate him bossing me around.

"I got it," I say, trying to step around him. "And I didn't answer my phone because I can do what I want—"

Gray sighs, then literally runs right into me. He walks up to the edge of the table. My knees touch his chest and he tilts me over his shoulder—which, given my current inebriated state—is an easier task than it should have been. Then I'm hanging, upside down and over his shoulder.

Staring at his infuriatingly perfect ass.

"Gray! Put me down!" I pound on his butt with my fists. Jesus, it doesn't give
at all
. Forget about quarters; you could bounce a cantaloupe off this thing.

"I'll put you down when you stop acting like a child," Gray says. Then he proceeds to ignore me and direct Dacko on what to do with Elle. "Take her home. I'll text you her address."

I stop hitting him for a second. "How do you know where Elle lives?"

"I make it a priority to know everything about my wife's friends.
To keep her safe
."

I slap his ass in anger.

And then he moves his hand in a large, slow circle—before he raises it, and slaps my ass!

Hard.

I gasp. And freeze.

"Be a good girl," Gray says, "And I'll wait until we're home to finish spanking you."

I
've cooled
off by the time I finally get her back—safe and sound and mostly sober—to my apartment.

But Kat's temper has gone through the fucking roof.

I would have carried her the entire way home; her plump pear of an ass right next to me, wriggling under my hand, had gotten me hard within an instant.

But then she probably would have literally stabbed me.

"I can't
believe
you would humiliate me like that!" Kat says for the eight-hundredth time, dropping her new purse on the floor, tossing her jacket on the bar, and kicking her shoes off against the hallway wall.

Jesus, in a few weeks our place will look like her old place: a disaster.

But as long as she's here, I could give a fuck.

She tried to hail two taxis on the way home, presumably so she could slam the door in my face and go someplace I couldn't find her. As if that could happen. She kicked me once in the shin. She talked non-stop until she decided to give me the cold shoulder.

I wish any of this made me hate her. Hell, made me
dislike
her, even a little bit. But I'd just grown harder, happier, and more determined: this little spitfire suited me. And I suited her. She just was too damn stubborn to admit it.

She's still talking as she gives me the finger and disappears into the guest room. That riles me, but if she needs her space, she can fucking have her space. I set the alarm system and grab a glass of water, heading to my bedroom and a long, miserable, cold shower.

Just as I pass the guest bedroom door, she whips it open and we're face-to-face. Her hair is wild, her eye makeup slightly running, her lips pale and parted. She looks gorgeous, even when messy. She looks like she's just been fucked all night in bed. I
want
her to look like this, minus the scowl.

But I want it to be because I made her come a hundred times. Not because she got drunk in a bar.

I can tell she's still livid, because she starts yelling at me immediately—and, I think she's forgotten that she took off her jeans. She's just wearing the same, old white t-shirt she'd had on for two days. I glance down at her curvy legs and thick, beautiful thighs. This is
not
helping my apparently eternal hard-on situation.

"And another thing—" Kat yells.

"Do you drink a lot?"

"What?" Kat pauses, then frowns as she looks at me. Really looks at me. I probably look like hell. I haven't really slept much in the last twenty-four hours.

"Do you drink a lot. Like your old man?"

Kat blinks. "No. I normally don't drink at all."

I nod, putting my arms on the doorway frame. I lean into Kat, and she sways toward me for a moment, then backs up a step.

"Good."

"Good?" She arches her brow. "I don't need you judging me. Or praising me."

"Jesus, Kat! Give me a fucking break," I say it slow, low. I watch her pinks slowly color, though whether it's because she wants me like I want her, or if she's embarrassed, I can't tell. "I know you're pissed. At your Dad, at me, at the entire Solonik family, life, because the sky's fucking blue. Whatever. I'm just saying—I don't drink. Never. Because you and I both know what a fucking monster my dad turned into when he drank."

She nods. "I didn’t know, Gray. I thought—you have a full bar in the living room—I didn't know it was such an issue for you."

"The bar's for my friends, if they come over."

Kat smirks. "What do you guys do? Polish your guns?"

I grin. "That. Or more likely, watch a playoff game."

I'm glad we're not at each other's throats, for the moment. "You didn't answer my calls. You ignored my texts."

Kat opens her mouth to retort, but I hold up my hand. "No, hear me out. I'm not a fucking teenage girl. I don't need to chat or get a series of fuckin' emojis from you every five minutes. But when I ask if you're
safe
, and when you'll be
home
, I do it so I don't drive myself fucking insane worrying about you."

Kat's mouth opens, then snaps shut. Finally she says, "Gray, I just don't like having a handler. If you wanted to know where I was, you could obviously have asked Dacko. I'm pretty sure you
did
, since he was freaking out and begging me to call you—" She cuts herself off and slaps her hand over her mouth.

"Oh really?" I step closer, into the room. "And why didn't you call
then
?" I take another step closer. Another. We're right next to each other now. If she takes one big breath, her luscious tits will brush up against me.

"Gray, I'm sorry. I was pissed. I was tired. I hate having a bodyguard. You need to trust me!"

"Trust you!" It comes out louder and angrier than I intended, and she flinches. "You just said you ignored me on purpose, just to piss me off. Not to mention the hitting, slapping, and trying to run off God knows where for the last thirty minutes. Why the hell should I trust you, Kat? Maybe I should just tie you up here for the next year, because you sure as hell aren't helping
me
keep
you
safe!"

Kat's face is a vivid rose, her fists balled, and her chest heaving. I move in one inch, so she pressed up against me. She surprises me; instead of moving away, she leans in, up on her tiptoes, practically nose-to-nose.

"You need to fucking trust
me
. Let me live my life! Let me have my freedom! I'll trust
you
when you return the favor!"

I step back suddenly. I don't say this often, but she deserves it: "You're right."

"I'm right?" Kat blinks. "You're actually…agreeing with me?"

I cross my arms and stare down at my wild Irish rose. "I am. I was so focused on protecting you, I forgot that you've protected yourself for twenty-four years."

"You remember how old I am?"

Jesus, this girl. "Of course, babes. July second's coming up. What do you want for your birthday?"

Tears fill her eyes. "You remember my birthday?"

"You're killing me, Kat. Jesus, stop crying." I take the edge of my t-shirt and wipe underneath her eyes, those jade beauties shining up at me.

"So, truce?" she says, her voice full of hope.

Hope, what a funny thing. I hadn't had hope, hadn't even believed in it as a concept, in so many years. And now here I am…
hoping
. For us to get along. For us to make it. For so many wonderful things to be in our future.

For me to get her in my fucking bed.

"Truce," I say, leaning forward to kiss her forehead. "I'll trust you. But you've got to
listen
to me, Kat. When I tell you something is dangerous, or that you should stay home, or keep in contact with me—you've got to do that,
da
?"

Kat mimics my deep voice. "
Da
.
Si
. Got it."

I laugh. "You've got a real shit Russian accent."

Kat laughs, out loud, throwing her head back. My heart sings at the sight of it.

Other body parts are also demanding attention.

"Now, are you all sobered up?"

"Yeah," Kat smiles and shrugs. "Seriously, Gray, I don't drink often. Being a bartender for years definitely taught me that the answer to all of life's problems is definitely
not
found at the bottom of a bottle. I get tipsy quickly, but then I sober up quickly, too."

I study her face for a moment.

"What!" Kat blushes as I watch her. "I'm totally sober. I trust you. We're all good."

"Good," I say nodding. "You're sober and you trust me. Now you're ready for your punishment."

"
M
y punishment
?"

Gray smiles and sidles up to me, his body heat practically burning me. I have the feeling I'm being stalked, and I'm not sure whether to run or let myself get caught.

From the look in his heated, silver eyes—getting caught might feel really good.

Gray walks in a tight circle around me, and I hold still as he studies me. It feels strange and primal. He's in control and I should hate it.

I don't move. Every nerve in my body is alive. I hold my breath. I listen to his slow, steady footsteps.

"You had me so fucking pissed, all I could think about was grabbing you." He's on my right, and trails a finger lightly across my shoulder. I jerk, and when he moves on behind me, I can still feel his touch, like a ghostly tattoo on my skin.

"Kissing you." He runs a hand across my back, along my shoulder blades.

"Spanking that curvy little ass."

I scoff. The tension in the air feels so palpable that I could reach out, grab it, wrap it around me like a blanket. I say something to lighten the mood. "My ass isn't little."

He freezes behind me, and I feel him rub up on me, his body like a wall of heat. He cups my ass with his hands, easily encompassing me with his palms.

"It looks fucking perfect to me." He leans in, and I find myself leaning back against him. "You gotta remember I'm six-four, babes. You're half my size, and you're also curvy as fuck, which is exactly how I like you." He reaches his hands around my waist, then slides them down onto my hips. "I can grab on to these." He slides them up, and cups my breasts through my thin t-shirt. "Or these."

He nuzzles into my neck. "You're so fucking gorgeous, so smart, so spirited, so funny. You
almost
made me forget what a beautiful, royal pain in the ass you were tonight."

I freeze, coming out of the haze he'd seduced me into.

"What?"

"You heard me," Gray whispers, the scruff on the sides of his cheek leaving a delicious burn as he rubs on me.

Then he suddenly grabs my waist, lifts me up like I weigh nothing at all, turns and tosses me onto the bed!

I land on all fours. I'm so shocked I can't even speak. Then I realize I'd been getting undressed for bed; My t-shirt is hanging off of me, and from the cool air I can tell the only thing between my behind and Gray's hand are my threadbare panties.

Gray's behind me, and I realize that if he were to actually go through with his threat, we were in the perfect position for him to reach out, grab my hips with one hand, slowly pull my t-shirt up and out of the way…

No. What the hell am I thinking? Why aren't I moving
away
from him?

I am a grown-ass woman. I don't want a grown man to spank me like a little child.

Then I feel his hand, more tentative and gentle than I would have expected, caress the side of my hip. I bite my lip.

I will not moan. I will not moan. I will not make a sound.

Gray's hand is heavier now, pushing into my hip, caressing it in circles with his large, flat palm.

"I was thinking I would spank you as punishment. But you don't seem very scared. In fact, you haven't moved. " His voice goes low, a rough whisper even though it's just the two of us in the room. "Does my Kat want to try something new?"

I'm breathing heavily. I'm frozen. His hand keeps moving, drawing rough circles on my skin, over and over and over again. But he's not
doing
anything.

And it's driving me nuts.

"Say it, Kat."

"Say what?"

"Ask me to spank you."

"I'll do no such thing," I spit out.

"Sweetheart, you're on all fours, panting, letting me pet you." I feel the bed give as he climbs onto it, and suddenly he's above me, weighing me down. His beard scratches against my ear and neck as he bends over me. "I bet if I ran a finger—or a tongue—down your sweet crack right now, you'd be wet as hell."

I gulp. He's right, damn him. I press my legs together, trying to deny the growing heat blossoming deep within me.

"Ask me for it, and I'll give you whatever you want," Gray croons into my ear.

"Never." I don't know why I'm fighting him. I didn't even plan on spitting out the word
never
. I don't mean it—which terrifies me.

I don't mean it at all.

I don't want to run from Gray. I want to stay here—on this bed, in his life. The more I get to know him, the more I want him. Seven years' absence hasn't dimmed the flame between us; one spark and I think it will burst into an all-consuming fire.

Gray laughs, a low, dark sound. "You fight me on everything, you know that, babes? That's all right. I'm a fighter, too. That's one reason we suit each other."

I frown. He thinks we're alike? But we're nothing alike! We don't suit each other at all.

I would tell him so, but he's crept a hand around me, and suddenly I'm covered. His weight on my back, though he's mostly holding himself up with his left arm. His right arm ghosting over my breasts, playing with my nipples…

I will not moan. I will not moan
.
I hate him.

I love—

Oh! Gray slips his hand into my panties, coating himself in my wetness.

"I knew it," he says. He sounds triumphant, and I feel him press his rock-hard cock against my ass. "You want me as much as I want you."

"I don't." The words leave my mouth before I can even think about what I'm saying.

"Sweet Kat, don't make yourself into a liar." He swirls his fingers through my folds, teasing my clit, but not pressing nearly hard enough. I can't help it, I buck against his hand, wanting more. When I demand a harder touch with my hips, he backs off, just lightly playing with my lips, the crease between my thigh and my core. I growl when he won't give me what I want, but Gray just laughs.

I have a hard time steeling my heart against that sound.

"I'll tell you what, love," he whispers in my ear, his fingers still twirling and teasing me. "You don't have to ask me to spank you. I'll gift you that."

I make a scoffing sound. "
Gift
me with a
spanking
? That's insane."

So why does it feel like fucking Christmas morning?

"All you have to do is admit you were wrong not to answer your phone, and promise that you'll listen to me from now on."

I shake my head, hitting the side of his face.

"Fuck you," I growl.

"That's the idea, babes."

"I'm not apologizing. You can't tell me what to do."

Suddenly I'm flipped over, on my back, staring up into the silver fire of his eyes.

"Kat, I'm not fucking around. This is life or death. You're in danger.
Danger
. Why do you think I tell you to do the things I do? To protect you! Do you think I get off on just bossing you around?"

"Yes," I say.

Now there's a twinkle in those steel eyes.

"Alright, maybe. I'll give you that." He slowly lowers himself onto my body, covering every inch of me with his hard heat. I involuntarily open my legs, relishing the feel of his cock pressing between my wet folds. When did he take off his pants? Holy shit, I realize he's naked.

He's huge. He's naked. He's on top of me.

Why am I wearing my shirt again?

Gray kisses one cheek, then the other. "Now just tell me you'll obey me. In everything I say."

"No," I whisper, before kissing him back.

He takes control of the kiss. Slow. Gentle. "Alright, we'll try this. I'm going to spank you because you ignored me, and lied to me—but also because you want it so fucking bad you can't see straight."

I swallow. I should hate this. I should hate him.

I can't tear my gaze away from his eyes, his burnished hair, his lips so close to mine.

"Because your ass is about the most gorgeous thing I've ever seen, because I've been hard as iron thinking about it all night."

He gives me a light kiss on the nose, then leans down and whispers in my ear, "But you can't come until you promise to listen to me. For your own fucking good,
Katya
."

He pulls back from me, and I feel suddenly cold. He stands at the foot of the bed, his muscles flexing, his chest heaving. He's as ready to strike as the cobra tattoo on his arm.

"Sit up and take your shirt off."

I hesitate, and he slaps his palm against his hard thigh. It makes a hard, quick sound like what I imagine his hand on my ass will make.

"Right now, you've earned ten slaps of my hand. Five for the voicemails you refused to listen to. Five for the texts you ignored. You ignore me now—"

I'm not scared of him, but I jump up and pull my shirt over my head. I mean, I am scared—will it hurt? But I'm not scared of
him
.

And then I look at Gray and stop thinking.

I'm kneeling on a bed, wearing only my bra and panties. Gray looks like a pagan sex god, come to claim his virgin bride. His chest is wide, perfectly sculpted. His defined abs flow down to the slim but powerful line of his hips. His cock is huge, jutting up proudly toward the ceiling…toward me.

I feel a familiar heat in my cheeks and I know I'm blushing. I guess I'm a willing sacrifice.

"Beautiful," Gray says. He steps up to the bed, and runs a finger under my bra strap. "I'm going to take my beautiful little Kat shopping." He unhooks my bra with practiced fingers, pulling it slowly down my arms. "Buy her pretty little lacey shit, the kind I can rip right off."

He helps me to stand up, balancing on the mattress, and pulls my panties down my legs. "Buy her ridiculously fucking expensive panties that she won't have much of a chance to wear."

He grabs my ass, pulls me roughly forward, and kissed me between my legs. He pulls back, his left hand holding me solid, his eyes on me, his right hand snaking between my legs and up inside me.

I groan.

"Jesus, babes. You're so fucking tight."

He starts moving his middle finger slowly in and out of me. I'm standing above him, feeling like I might float right to the ceiling if it wasn't for his hand, anchoring me at my hip.

Gray is so tall that, even when I'm standing on the bed, his head is at my stomach. His kisses me there, working his finger faster and faster. Then he starts making a come-hither motion, and I throw back my head, crying out.

"Oh God, that feels so—"

I can't even speak. It's like he's fucking my g-spot, hard, hard and harder. I didn't know something so rough could feel so fucking divine.

"Gray, I can't stand up for this," I moan. My knees are buckled, but he puts an arm around my waist, gently sliding me to my knees while he continues his delicious assault on that tiny spot inside me. I'm getting wetter and wetter, and I realize he's switched to two fingers now.

Holy shit. I think I'm going to come just from him—

He stops. Pulls out. Smiles at me and says, "Remember, babes, you don't get to come until you promise to listen to me."

"You fucking bastard!"

He smirks. "You got the bastard part right. We'll get to the fucking soon enough."

Then he whips me back around, on all fours. He caresses the inside of my thighs, which are embarrassingly wet. My God, I am
dripping
.

Then there's a moment of stillness—me on all fours, his left hand holding my hip—and then he slaps the hell out of my ass.

I scream. "You bastard! That
hurt
!"

He doesn't answer, just spanks me again, though this time on my left side. He switches hands, his right hand on my back, and his left hand hits me a third time—lower, where my thighs and my ass meet.

"Mmm, your skin turns a lovely shade of pink, little wife."

I groan. I'm so twisted, but I think I'm getting
wetter
.

He keeps going.

"Four, five, six." He counts as he hits me—but it's not hitting. Is there any other word? It was rough, it stung, but then as soon as he touched one area, he'd move on. His other hand would sooth where he'd just slapped me.

And everywhere he'd touched, after a jolt of pain that had me lurching and crying out, would even out into a delicious heat.

I was on fire.

"Someday I'll fuck you as I spank you," Gray says, his weight suddenly on the bed.

"Nine, my love." I feel him get in position, his cock at my entrance, coating itself in my juices, teasing me. He pushes just slightly, but I'm so tight—can he tell I've never had a man anywhere near there?—that he doesn't get very far.

He doesn't seem to care, because he just lays his massive cock on my ass. Then his reaches around, thrusting against me while he fingers my clit. I'm so wet and turned on that I immediately, shamelessly begin thrusting against him. Oh God, one more second and I'll burst into flames—

He stops touching me.

"You asshole!" I cry.

"You want to play there, too, my love? Someday, someday."

I shake my head, and then he's between my legs, mimicking intercourse but with his hand, somehow touching my g-spot and my clit at the same time. I'm enveloped in his scent, the cloves and cardamom and tobacco of his body wash, the scent of his skin, the night air still clinging to him.

The sounds of my own wetness fill the room, and my panting.

"Tell me you'll listen to me," Gray growls, his fingers moving faster. I'm close. So close.

"Tell me you'll listen to me. Tell me your husband is always right."

I could cry, I could beg, I can't stop moving against him. So close, so close, his cock so hot and heavy against my back, his entire body taking me over—

"You might be right," I moan.

He withdraws his hands from between my legs, moves them up to pull and tug on my nipples. That should hurt, too, but instead I'm crying out like I'll come just from that.

"Not good enough, darling."

"Please make me come, Gray.
Please
."

I can feel more than hear his laughter against my neck, my back.

"Goddamn, I love hearing those words on your lips. But they're not the words I want right now." He thrusts hard against me—is he getting
off
on this?! But the idea of his come, shooting out across my ass and back is such a turn-on. I moan.