You Don't Own Me: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance (The Russian Don Book 1) (10 page)

Dahlia Fury

I
rap my knuckles smartly on the study door. I no longer feel nervous and frightened like I did the first time I timidly knocked on this door. Daisy is all right and I already know all the steps to this dance.
Maybe even with my eyes closed.

‘Enter,’ Zane calls.

Keeping my shoulders straight I push open the door, and hot damn, the undigested blinis in my stomach do little somersaults. His hair is damp, and he is wearing a crisp cream shirt that exposes his strong throat. The raw power and masculinity takes my breath away. I steel myself not to react.

‘Good morning,’ I greet. Outwardly, I’m as cool as a cucumber, inwardly, an irrational, hot mess.

He doesn’t waste time with pleasantries. ‘Is your pussy naked under that dress?’ he asks.

Damn him. If it was his intention to pull the rug out from under my feet he has succeeded with flying colors. My breathing is definitely faster and more audible.

Sarcastically he raises one eyebrow.

‘Er … no.’

‘Take your pants off. You are never to wear any again while you are in this house, or when you are out with me.’

My eyes widen. The fuck? The arrogance! ‘What about when I have my period?’ I ask caustically. ‘Do I just bleed all over your furniture?’

‘I don’t remember forbidding the use of tampons.’

My only defense is to look contemptuous and dismissive as I take my panties off and scrunch them up in my fist. ‘Well, if it’s all the same to you, it makes me feel safer to use panties during that time.’

‘It’s not all the same to me,’ he states proudly.

Overbearing bastard. ‘Why should you care? It’s not like we’ll be having sex then?’ I challenge.

‘Whatever gave you the impression we won’t be having sex then?’ he oozes.

I recoil. ‘What?’

He smiles fiendishly. ‘Why Dahlia
moy
, don’t tell me you have never had sex while you are bleeding.’

‘Of course not,’ I say haughtily.

‘Then you have missed something special. Even a dog knows when a woman is about to come on her period because her hormones are going crazy. She’s like a piece of tinder. One little spark and she will burn like a fucking bonfire.’

My heart kicks. This is so far removed from what I am used to in a man.

‘Come here,’ he instructs quietly.

I walk up to his desk and look down at him. My heart is racing and I can already feel my body responding.  It’s truly incredible how my body starts reacting as soon as I come into his vicinity. It is as if his fingertips are already on my spine and moving downwards. Every moment spent in his company is rich with excitement and pleasure or throbbing with anticipation. I would never have believed such a wild and crazy experience would open up for little ole me a few months ago.

He tilts his head. ‘Over here,’ he invites coolly.

However, I have to admit I really don’t care to be treated like a whore.
Come here. Squat. Open your legs.
I grit my teeth, but obey his command and walk around the desk.

He rolls his chair back so a space between him and his desk opens up. ‘Sit in front of me,’ he instructs.

I glance at his desk, lick my lower lip and ask, ‘Don’t you want to move those papers out of the way first?’

He doesn’t miss a beat. ‘No.’

‘Do you want me to move them out of the way?’

‘No. I want you to follow my instruction,’ he says with elaborate politeness.

Ugh. He deserves to perish horribly. I get between him and the desk and hop onto the surface, my legs dangling down. Unconsciously my eyes stray down to his crotch and he is hard and bulging under the expensive fabric of his slacks. I avert my gaze quickly and he laughs. A taunting cold sound.

‘You didn’t come to me yesterday,’ he says softly.

‘I … er … I … got drunk.’

‘So I heard.’ His eyes seem to glow with promises and danger, and I like that hint of the deadly and the unknowable. Does that make me a bad girl?

My pulse starts throbbing hard. ‘Well, you did leave the champagne in a very accessible place,’ I reason.

‘That’s true,’ he concedes generously.

‘I could make it up to you,’ I suggest.

He takes my right ankle in his warm hand. It’s like a molten spike of sensation, but I don’t fidget or react. I keep my palms firmly glued to the surface of the desk on either side of me. With a mocking smile he removes my shoe and lets it drop to the floor. A half-grin tugs at his mouth. ‘Oh yeah?’

That half grin turns my insides to mush. My face feels flushed. His hand on my ankle is doing things to me, making me tingle. ‘Yeah,’ I whisper, my voice husky.

He takes off the other shoe. ‘How?’ he purrs.

Jesus! My brain feels completely addled. ‘I don’t know. I do give an incredible blowjob.’

Something flashes in his eyes. He drops the shoe. ‘That’s good to know, but I’m afraid, we Russians, we’re big on honoring debts and keeping our word. If we say we’ll be somewhere in an hour, we make sure we’re there.’

I think for a moment. ‘We Americans are too. And that is why I am sitting on your fucking table without my panties.’

He eyes me hungrily as if I’m food or prey. ‘It warms my heart to hear that Americans honor their word.’

I smile seductively. ‘Hmmm … but I heard somewhere that you ate your own heart.’ Let him know that I’m not backing down.

Laughter pours out of him like oil from a jar. Smooth, golden, dazzling. ‘You shouldn’t listen to gossip, Dahlia
moy
. Now be a good girl and open your legs. I want to fuck you.’

I lick my dry lips. ‘Just like that?’

‘Uh … huh.’

‘And it’s always going to be like this?’

He raises his eyebrows. ‘Like what?’

‘So emotionless.’

He considers the question. ‘I guess so.’

‘Why? Why does it have to be so cold and impersonal?’

A smooth shrug. ‘Because I like it so.’

I swallow hard. ‘Or maybe because you are afraid?’ I whisper.

Dizzying seconds pass. His eyes glitter dangerously, and I see the helldamned shadow inside him, but then, he laughs. ‘Afraid of what, little one?’ he queries softly.

‘Of feeling something.’

‘Something for you?’ he mocks.

I don’t let my expression show my embarrassment. ‘For any woman,’ I bite back.

He looks at me curiously, intrigued. ‘What would make it less … cold for you?’

‘Maybe if we kissed?’

His expression does not change. ‘Go ahead. Kiss me.’

I lean forward and instantly his scent envelops me. Heady. I let my hands drift up to his wide shoulders and settle on those lean muscles. I start moving towards him. His lips come closer and closer to mine.
Hell, must he be so gorgeous?

My heart is beating so loud he probably hears it. Breathlessly, I let my mouth dust the side of his neck, and he becomes completely rigid. Under my fingers his muscles are hard and tense. Not exactly the reaction I am looking for, but at least he’s not immune. I nuzzle at a madly throbbing pulse and treat it to delicate little kisses. Soft, innocent butterfly whispers.

Leaving that fiercely beating pulse I rest my forehead against his. My hands rise up to capture his face. His skin feels like raw silk against the palms of my hands. His warmth seeps through. My lips part and so do his. Our breaths mingle.

As bold as a lamb approaching a lion, I let our lips touch. 

His mouth is soft and full. He tastes of coffee and something magical. Savoring the taste I move my mouth over his, gently and suggestively … deepening the kiss. My whole body flushes with heat and euphoria. From the roots of my hair to the tips of my toes. Warmth spills out of my heart. Oh God! How long has it been since I felt like this? Smoldering heat uncurls deep inside me.

Then I realize.

He is
not
kissing me back.

I draw back slightly, the lovely heat inside me evaporating like mist in the morning sunlight. He remains still and unresponsive. I lift my eyes and look into his. They stare back at me like beautiful, lifeless stones.

‘Now can we do it my way?’ he asks.

It is like being slapped. He deliberately trapped me into humiliating myself. I let my hands drop away from his face and lean away from him. Inside, my pride and something else are fatally wounded, outside, I show only fury.

‘I think I’m going to end up hating you,’ I spit venomously.

‘There you go. Emotion,’ he taunts.

I glare at him. God, I have never met such an infuriating man. I want to rake my fingernails down his smug, arrogant face, and add another scar to go with the one that’s already there.

Calmly he reaches forward, grabs the front of my blouse, and rips it open suddenly. Buttons fly in all directions.

‘What the hell are you doing?’ I protest angrily, my hands automatically covering my chest, even though he has already seen my breasts bare.

‘What I always want to do when I’m around you. Ravish you.’

‘What, the great Zane needs to force himself on an unwilling woman?’ I taunt.

His eyes glint with genuine amusement. ‘I think we both know that you are not unwilling.’

‘I was willing, but I’ve changed my mind. You’re a cold, unfeeling brute. I don’t know what I ever saw in you. I am no longer willing. So there.’

He laughs. A hard mocking sound. So different from the earlier laugh. ‘Lust and passion don’t come from a tap, American fox. You can’t just turn it off.’

‘Well, I just did,’ I tell him coldly.

He smiles wickedly. ‘So you don’t mind if I put it to a test?’

I look at him suspiciously. ‘What are you planning to do?’

‘If you don’t completely lose your head in the next two minutes you can walk out of this house and never return.’

My eyes widen with shock. ‘What?’ 

‘You heard,’ he growls.

Two minutes. I can do two minutes. I’m not that desperate. Forewarned is forarmed. I’ll do the same thing he did to me. No matter what I feel inside, I will remain cold and unresponsive. I glance at my watch. ‘Your time starts now.’

He looks at his own watch. ‘It’s not that I don’t trust you. It’s just that—’

‘Of course not,’ I interrupt acidly.

‘Mine has seconds,’ he finishes.

My jaw juts out. ‘So does mine.’

With unhurried movements he unfastens the front clasp of my bra. My breasts burst free, and unfortunately for me, my nipples are already hard. I take a deep breath and sneak a look at my watch. Seven seconds have passed. He takes the globes in his hands and kneads them gently.

I smile tightly at him and he laughs confidently.

Casually, I let my eyes slide towards my wrist. Twenty seconds. His dark head moves downwards towards my chest. He captures a nipple and suckles it, and hot velvet alert! His mouth is so hot and cunning I feel a jolt go right down to my sex.

Shit. You need to find a way to distract yourself.

I close my eyes and try to think of a particularly bad manuscript that I once read. It started off with a sex scene that was so unintentionally funny it deserved some sort of turkey award.  The girls and I laughed for …

Oh God! Zane has captured a nipple between his teeth. I turn the moan that rises up my throat into a kind of throat clearing cough. At chest level the slick bastard stops and chuckles. He thinks he is so badass. Someone should tell him, he who laughs last, laughs longest.

His hand starts moving up my thigh and, what the hell? My legs, as if separate from me, part sluttishly to give him access. I lean back on the palms of my hands and close my eyes.
Take deep breaths. If he can resist you, you can resist him. You’re not a Fury for nothing.

One finger enters me. Oh. My. God. It has to be at least one minute by now. He slips another finger in. Then his thumb gets in on the act. It starts circling my clit like some sort of killer shark. Damn, if that doesn’t feel good.

My head starts feeling light. Against my will my hips rise up, a little, but it is definitely a rise. My belly feels like it’s starting to melt. Oh, hell. The throbbing in my sex becomes ferocious. It’s all getting to be too much. No. No. No. I’m not going to … come. Fuck it.  I’m not. I’m just not. Oh no …

‘About to lose it, little fox?’ he mocks.

‘Don’t … Fucking … Call … meee … litt … Ahhhhh.’

The world begins to spin and spiral. Sparks of heat land on my skin. My head drops back and blood explodes in my brain. I lose all control and climax, screaming ferociously at him. Reality returns slowly. The fire inside me dims and I’m faced with reality. The ceiling is sky blue. Nice actually. I straighten my head and meet his sharp eyes.

He raises a condescending eyebrow.

‘A bit of humility would be an attractive quality to nurture,’ I say unsteadily.