You Don't Own Me: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance (The Russian Don Book 1) (14 page)

‘Ahhhhh … fuck’

He starts thrusting into my mouth even faster.

‘That’s it, baby. Suck me. Milk my dick and swallow it all down,’ he roars, his cock throbbing and jerking in my throat as he begins to deposit his cum directly into my stomach.

He takes my head in his hands and with total control withdraws his dick out of my throat so the last spurts happen in my mouth. Secret number two to giving an awesome blowjob: swallow his semen as if you are desperate for it, as if you haven’t had a drop of water to drink for days.

I swallow Zane’s cum while sucking for more.

I start to swallow the warm, salty liquid filling my mouth, but in fact that reaction is an automatic one because I am shuddering towards an orgasm that feels as if it is more important than breathing. The spasms are so fast and intense they overwhelm me. Beyond pleasure or pain they make my body arch off the table and my mouth open in a strangled uncontrollable scream. His seed runs out of the sides of my gasping mouth and down my cheeks.

‘Cum suits you. You’d make a good slut,’ he murmurs when the convulsions die down. Gently he rubs his cream into my cheeks. 

Secret number three: show how much you love the taste of his semen. I grin up at him. ‘When can I have some more?’

‘You really are a dirty girl, aren’t you?’ he says, a tender and probably unintended inflection in his voice.

‘Mmmm,’ I moan sweetly, but already I can feel him mentally withdrawing from me.

He moves away and comes back with my dress, then helps me up and even zips me into my dress.

‘That really was fucking something, but I’ve got work to do,’ he says, picking his pants up from the floor and zipping them up. ‘So I’ll say goodnight now.’

‘Good night, Zane,’ I say politely, but I don’t think I’ve ever felt so knotted up with hurt.

‘Sleep well.’

We are like two strangers. I walk out of his study and vow there and then that I will never trust him again. No matter how nice he is, or how desperate he seems to have sex with me. It is just that. Sex.  Did I make a mistake?  I behaved like a slut and he treated me like a slut.

When all is said and done, there is nothing left. 

Dahlia Fury

U
nless I fall into bed in a drunken stupor I am usually a very light sleeper, and the least noise will wake me. I don’t know what, but a noise filters through my sleep.

My eyes fly open.

The room is lit only by the bluish glow from the nightlight that I plugged into the wall just outside the bathroom. I listen intently and I hear it again. Footsteps. Someone is coming up the stairs. Someone is standing outside my door. For a few seconds whoever it is just stands there. Then the door opens.

It’s him!

I quickly shut my eyes and pretend to be in a deep sleep. From the slits of my eyes I see him advance towards the bed. He stands over me and looks down. It’s extremely difficult to fake sleep and breathe evenly and deeply when every damn cell and nerve in my body is screaming for me to switch on the light and invite him into my bed, but the memory of how coldly he dismissed me earlier is still raw and bleeding.

What seems like forever passes before he bends down and quietly leaves something on the bedside table. He turns and walks back to the door. He is more than halfway across the room when something makes him stop and come back.

For a few heart stopping moments he does nothing, just stands there barely breathing. Then he grasps the duvet and gently pulls it up over my chest and lets it fall softly down on my body. He straightens, walks to the door and closes it soundlessly behind him.

Hell! What was that all about?

I am so shocked I don’t move even after I hear his footsteps go back down to the lower floor. Eventually, I switch on the bedside lamp. There is an envelope on the bedside table. I tear it open and out falls a gold card with my name on it, a letter with my new pin number, and another letter advising me of my credit limit.

My eyes nearly pop out of their sockets.

£10,000.00!!

Well, well. You want me to spend your money so you feel better about your behavior?

Consider it done.

I skip breakfast the next morning because I really can’t face the cold omelet, the pink, raw-looking sausages, or the semolina pudding again. I just go down for a cup of coffee and work steadily until lunch.

By then I am starving. I eat a lot of rye bread with a man-size plate of beef stroganoff, and wash it all down with Russian apple pie. More stodgy than the American version, but good nevertheless.

At two o’clock Noah and I come down the steps and a grey Audi drives up and stops in front of us. Noah opens the back door for me and I get in. He closes the door and sits in the front passenger seat.

‘Can we stop at Harvey Nichols for like an hour? I need to buy something,’ I tell Noah.

He nods and gives the driver his instructions in Russian. Twenty minutes later the driver drops us off outside the department store and Noah and I enter it. We take the lift to the men’s department. When we get there I ask a sales assistant where I can find leather jackets to fit Noah.

Noah frowns. ‘What are you doing?’

‘We’re getting you a brown leather jacket.’

‘Me?’ he asks, jerking his head back in surprise.

‘Yeah, you.’

He narrows his eyes suspiciously. ‘Why?’

‘I know you’re part of Zane’s bodyguard/security personnel, but you don’t have to look like one all the time.’

Noah scratches the back of his neck in a touchingly bewildered way, and I take the opportunity to grab his huge forearm and start walking him towards the area the woman pointed out to us. Once there I ask another assistant to show us some brown leather jackets for Noah. While she runs a practiced eye over him he clears his throat uncomfortably.

While she goes to find a selection of jackets, I receive a text. It’s a blast from the past.

How’s it going? xx

For a fraction of an instant I hesitate. Then I text him a reply back. One that tells him exactly where he is in my life.

Great. Thanks for a being my friend. I really appreciate it. X

Mark’s reply is instant and a bit intriguing.

I’m the best friend you have at the moment. Don’t forget that. No matter what happens you can rely on me. xx

But the sales lady comes back with four different styles for Noah to try on so I just send Mark some kisses and a hug.

‘Go on, then. Try them on,’ I urge, putting my mobile back into my bag.

Noah takes the jackets from her, looks at the price tag of the first one, and recoils so drastically it is comical. ‘Fucking hell,’ he says with a horrified expression. ‘This
thing
is nearly two thousand pounds. Who’s going to pay for it?’

‘I am.’ I watch his eyes bulge with surprise and amend my statement. ‘Well, Zane is. He gave me a credit card and presumably that means I can buy whatever I want with it, right?’

He rubs his jaw. ‘Yes, but … you’re supposed to buy pretty things for yourself.’

‘I don’t remember him making any such stipulation.’

‘I’ll have to check this with the boss first,’ he says holding the jacket at arms length.

I fold my hands. ‘I don’t care what you do, but you’re not coming with me to my workplace unless you are wearing something other than that thuggish black leather jacket you’ve got on.’

‘All right. I’ll take my jacket off and stand in my shirt.’

‘Absolutely not. I’m not standing here arguing with you. You’re buying a jacket or you’re not coming with me.’

For a few seconds he looks at me with a stunned and confused face, then he takes off his jacket and tries on the first one.

‘There’s a mirror there,’ I say nodding to the wall behind him.

I trail behind as he walks to it and stop when he does. I look at his reflection. ‘You like?’

‘I don’t know,’ he says shyly. ‘What do you think?’

‘I kinda like it, but it’s very similar to the one you already have. Let’s see what the other three look like before we decide, huh?’

Meekly he takes it off and tries the next one.

We hit eureka with the third jacket. Both the sales assistant and I agree, Noah looks gorgeous.

‘How is it possible you haven’t got a girlfriend, Noah?’ I tease.

Big, strong, stoic Noah who wanted to body search me the first time he met me, flushes a deep shade of red.

I give the sales assistant Noah’s old jacket to put into a carrier bag, and pay for the new jacket.

‘Thank you,’ he says gruffly.

I smile at him. ‘Thank you for … protecting me.’

‘It’s my job.’

Then we pop upstairs to the Food Hall for a box of cereal before we go back down to the ground floor where I wander into the handbag department. As I pick out a smart, black leather handbag, I see Noah checking his reflection out in a mirror. Smiling, I slip the bag into the crook of my elbow and look at Noah.

‘Do you think Olga will like this?’

‘Olga?’ he asks with surprise. ‘You’re buying that for Olga?’

‘Mmmm.’

He looks at me with narrowed eyes. ‘Why?’

‘Why not? She’s always cooking for me and getting me coffee and stuff, and I’d like to get her something to say thank you.’

‘Oh,’ he says, looking at me as if I have just grown a second head.

‘So? Do you think she’ll like it?’

He shrugs. ‘I’m not a woman. I wouldn’t know.’

He looks so out of place in the perfumed, feminine environment that it makes me cheeky. ‘But would you fancy a woman who carried a bag like this though?’ I insist.

At first he stares at me as if I am mental, but then he grins, his first real grin. ‘Are all American people like you?’

‘Some,’ I say, and sail towards the cashier.

As I am paying I see Noah talking on his mobile. It must have been with the driver because by the time we get out of the doors the driver is already waiting. We get in and he drives us to my workplace.

Noah waits at the corner where he can still see me go into the building but not close enough to be seen by anybody from my office. The girls are happy to see me and offer to make a pot of tea and open the biscuit tin. I know they want to have a little gossip, but conscious of Noah waiting outside, I tell them I am in a hurry. I drop off the read manuscripts and pick another massive pile of submissions and go back out to Noah.

While we are in the car Molly calls to tell me that she will be around at about seven with new clothes for me. I look at Noah.

‘Is it OK for Molly to come around at seven today?’

‘As long as she is gone by ten. Boss wants you to be at the Matrix at eleven o’clock.’

‘That’s great. I’ll see you then,’ I say, and end the call.

‘What is the Matrix?’ I ask Noah.

‘A club,’ Noah says shortly.

I suppress a sigh. ‘Does it belong to Zane?’

‘Yeah.’

When we get back to the house Noah and I go into the kitchen. Olga is sitting flipping through the pages of a magazine and listening to Russian pop music playing in the background. She grins at us and makes the hand sign of drinking to me to ask if I want a coffee.

I nod.

Noah says something in Russian and she turns towards me with her eyebrows raised and an enquiring look in her eyes. I walk towards her and give her the Harvey Nichols carrier bag.

‘For you,’ I say, my finger wagging at her.

She points at her own chest with her eyebrows raised.

I nod and smile.

She takes the shopping bag from me and opens it, looks inside then looks again in disbelief.

‘Go on take it out.’

She takes the protective white cloth cover off, gasps at the handbag and looks up at Noah. He just raises his eyebrows as if to say, Don’t look at me. This has
nada
to do with me.

I see her eyes drop to his jacket and she fires something to him in Russian and nods. She turns towards me. Her eyes are misty as she reaches out and rubs her rough palm on my forearm.

I take my coffee and leave them. As soon as the door closes I hear Olga grilling Noah in earnest.