Chapter 8
ROSE
We sit at his kitchen table. The curtains closed. Only a lamp lit as though he wants to keep the light low in case that intimidating man somehow finds us.
He looks dashing in his suit. Collar loose to show the tattoos spiraling up his neck. He’s hunched over, muscles bulging like he’s ready to tear free from his suit.
“I’m an enforcer,” he says. “For years, I’ve worked for the Bratva.”
I’m not surprised—part of me guessed this—well, not the Bratva bit–I’ve never heard of Bratva, and yet it’s still hard to take.
“You hurt people?” I whisper.
He nods.
“Who? Women? Children? Whoever they told you to?”
He shakes his head. Looks at me like I’m crazy. “I’ve always had a code, Rose. I only hurt men who are part of the life. Who have chosen this world over the regular one. For twenty years, I’ve stuck to that rule. I’ve never let them sway me. And I never would.”
His tone is firm. Certain …
Truthful.
An instinct in me pulses, a voice whispering that I don’t even have to ask if he’s telling the truth. Somehow, I can tell that he is. Somehow, I just know.
That’s what love does to a girl.
I bury the notion. But not deep enough.
“So what changed?” I demand.
“Nikolai Dubrov—the Pakhan of the Bratva—he finally had enough. Said I was making him look bad by refusing to carry out his orders. He told me I had to kill a boy. The son of one of his rivals. Said I had no choice. His head or mine.”
He grits his teeth, stares into space as though seeing the past.
“I told him I’d do it …”
My breath catches.
“But then I took the boy and got him and his family away from the East Coast. I helped them to forge false identities. When Nikolai found out, he put a ransom on my head. I fled here because it’s the sort of place nobody would ever think to look for me.”
“To do what?” I whisper. “To just hide–forever?”
“To figure out how I’m going to kill them, all of them.” He looks at me bleakly. “My friend, Pash, he thinks I should run. He thinks it’s too dangerous.”
“Maybe he’s right,” I say softly. “You’re just one man.”
I walk around the table. Slide into his lap. He wraps his arms around me and holds tightly.
“If he ordered me to do that, he may have ordered others. But he’s holed up in his headquarters, surrounded with his men. I’ve been trying to figure out any way to get at him which isn’t going to be a damn suicide mission.”
“You did the right thing,” I whisper, tears pricking my eyes.
He looks up. Brushes a single tear from my cheek with his rough thumb. “I’ve done the wrong thing plenty of times.”
“You saved that boy. And you’re trying to make it so nobody else gets hurt.”
“Don’t say it like I’m a hero, Rose.”
“You are.” I swallow a ball of emotion. “You’re my hero.”
“Rose …”
His voice cracks.
He pushes his lips against mine. At first I think it’s going to be a gentle kiss. A brush of the lips. But then passion ignites us both and I let out a muffled moan.
He grips my back harder, rocks his hips. His manhood is already solid, an urgent pressure against my groin.
This is wrong.
I rock against him, twitching my hips, my lips sizzling with the memory of how he filled me up last time.
We should stop.
How can we give ourselves to lust after what we just talked about?
Maybe that’s why we can. Letting go. Forgetting. Replacing dark with light.
I stand then take his hand, guiding it to my dress, staring at the fierce hunger on his face.
“Does my perfect Rose want to take control?” he groans.
I direct his hand all the way to my underwear. Then push my underwear aside and rock against him. He breathes raggedly as he circles my hole with his finger.
“Maybe I want to show Daddy I’m not afraid anymore. Of him—of this.”
His eyes flare intensely. “Then you better tell Daddy what you want.”
I shake my head. “No.”
“No?”
“Not what I want … what I need.”
He slips his finger inside of me, standing. Crushing his lips against mine. I ride his hand as wetness floods my tunnel. His finger grinds deeply inside of me, the heel of his palm crushing into my clit with each stroke. My head swims with tingly pleasure. My body pumps with the force of him.
My man. My criminal.
My savior.
I grip his wrist with both hands. Ride his finger as my passage shivers around his dominating touch.
“Daddy,” I moan. “I want …”
He leans back. “Don’t get shy. Tell me.”
“I want you to taste me, Daddy. I want your tongue.”
“Fuuuuuuuuck.”
He picks up, cradling me to his chest. Carries me up the stairs as though I weigh nothing and kicks open the door.
Dropping me on the bed, his hands are on me straightaway. He tears down my underwear then hikes my dress up. The fabric bunches around my belly. Then he takes my thighs possessively and pushes them apart.
I lean up on my elbows so I can see the obsession in his eyes.
They wanted to break him, ruin him. But there’s only one person who can shatter his resolve.
Me.
His Rose.
“Fucking. Perfect.”
He kisses up my thigh. Gets close to my pussy then stops, gently circling my hole with his finger.
“Be a good girl and tell Daddy what you want.”
“Lick my clit,” I moan, the nerves sliding away. “And finger me at the same time. Please, Daddy.”
“I love how confident you’re getting.”
And I love you, full stop.
He sucks on my clit as he slips his finger inside of me again. His hand pumps relentlessly as he showers my needy nub with attention. The room fills with slick wet noises. My body. His mouth as he groans and feasts on me.
“Go crazy, Daddy.” I somehow push the words out past my shivering moans. “Claim me like you mean it, Duh-Duh …”
I can’t speak.
He goes into overdrive.
The bed protests as he pumps his hand obsessively. His tongue is a burning brand against my clit, flickering like flames. Scorching me so that pleasure signals drive through my entire body.
The stress and the fear and the doubt—gone.
There’s nothing but this wild chase toward pleasure.
I thread my fingers through his hair. Grind my hips in time with the motion of his obsessed tongue and hand.
My world becomes the inside of a star. Heat like this was never meant for girls like me. I’m trapped in an inferno, sweat covering my whole body. And I don’t want to be free.
The release makes me creamy and somehow slicker. I lock my thighs around his head, trapping him. Grinding and crying out as the release flows out of me.
He slips one hand between me and the bed. Palms my ass as he greedily sucks on my clit and finger-fucks me into oblivion.
I lie back, gasping, struggling to catch my breath.
He stands and tears at his clothes. His hands work desperately, buttons flying as he reveals his muscular torso. I finally get hold of myself and lean forward. Tug at his belt and pull his pants down.
His huge manhood springs up, a dollop of precum clinging to his end.
I grab it and rub my hand quickly. Urgently. The tingling between my thighs becomes a storm I can’t ignore.
“Remember, this is about you being a good girl and taking the lead for Daddy.”
He sits on the bed, shifts up, props himself against some pillows with his huge hard dick pointing up. He raises his eyebrow in a challenge. Nerves still cling to me, but they’re distant.
He takes it all away.
“Does Daddy want me to ride him?”
“More than anything,” he snarls, his tatted hand stroking his length. Spreading the precum so all ten inches glistens.
I climb onto the bed, walking on my knees until I can straddle him.
He rests one hand on my hip and keeps the other on his hard cock.
I cling onto his shoulders, sit down slowly.
Oh.
Oh.
This angle makes him seem somehow bigger. I sit heavily as he grinds up inside of me. As he fills up my tunnel and makes thinking about anything else impossible.
He groans when I sit on his balls. His hand grips my hip in a vise. Like he owns me. And I want that.
This man who did the right thing … after a lifetime of wrong.
This man who made the right choice.
He rocks his hips slowly.
“You’re a good fucking girl,” he groans. “But don’t make Daddy do all the work.”
“Like—this?”
I sit up, then down. Then repeat. Up and down. Bouncing against his balls as his fiery shaft flows inside me. His swollen end kisses a bright and sensitive spot deep within me. A button of euphoria.
“Pur-Perfect,” he grunts.
“Touch my ass, Daddy.”
With both hands he cradles my ass, massaging me as I bounce on him.
Confidence surges and suddenly I’m fully riding him, using his shoulders to lift myself then flow back down. Each time I land on his balls, he groans like he’s going to release.
“Fuck me hard, Daddy.”
His hips snap back and forth. Driving up into me as I rush to meet him mid collision.
My head swims as we sink into this rhythm, disappear into it.
I’ve never had anything else pluck me from reality like this.
But Daddy knows what he’s doing.
He fucks me like his life depends on it.
I clench my thighs tightly around him when I feel another orgasm rushing into me, tendrils of warm pleasure gripping and making everything tight.
He gasps and presses his hands even firmer against me.
When I break, I gaze at him through pleasure-blurred eyes. His mouth is tight as he stares at me. Struggling not to cum inside my pussy.
“Do it, Daddy,” I scream. “Cum in my pussy.”
“It’s the—only place—my cum—belo …”
He can’t finish the word.
He roars and buries his face against my breasts, hugging me tight to him as he bites down on my flesh. The sweet stinging sensation adds to the pleasure. We rock together as our shared crescendo deafens us, his cock pulsing as a seemingly never-ending flow of cum shoots inside.
Finally, I slide onto the bed. Staring at the ceiling as the room spins then settles.
He pulls me into his arms. Strokes his hand through my hair. “You tasted so fucking good,” he murmurs.
A dizzy smile grips me.
I think about what he told me.
Enforcer.
Refusing to do what his boss said.
The devils who could be at his door any day.
But then I sink deeper into his embrace and let myself forget it all.
We can talk about it tomorrow.
Except tomorrow, he’s gone.
I wake with no warm presence beside me. Just an absence where he should be.
A note on the bedside table.
I loved you more in a day than I’ve loved anybody my entire life, Rose. If I don’t leave, I’m risking your life. So far, the Bratva doesn’t know who or where you are. That might change if I stick around.
I hope you can forgive me one day.
The note trembles in my hand. Tears sting my eyes.
I don’t forgive him. I can’t.
I didn’t even get a chance to tell him I love him too.