Chapter 3
G regor
She looked beautiful when she cried.
The tears brought out the gold in her deep emerald eyes and made them sparkle.
Beauty was not the problem where Samara was concerned.
I had been summoned back from Russia because our families decided we would wed as soon as she graduated, which was in only two weeks.
It was the same old story.
It all came down to money.
The Federovs were a venerable old-world family with ties back to the Czars.
They had significant political and business connections both here in the States and in mother Russia.
Their name carried a great deal of weight in the drawing rooms of Europe and in embassies around the world.
Unfortunately, Samara’s father was an imbecile who pissed away most of the family fortune.
He then panicked and got into bed with some dangerous people.
So being the caring patriarch that he was, he’d put the only thing of value he had left on the auction block… his precious daughter.
He was willing to sell off her hand in marriage—and all the benefits of the family name that went with it—to the highest bidder, in exchange for a hefty dowry and protection from the rather nasty Nigerian criminals who’d ensnared him.
It was all very medieval.
Naturally, since our families had been linked both socially and through some minor side business dealings for generations, they decided we could not allow another family to outbid us for Samara’s hand.
Plus, this connection would give our more, shall we say, shadowed business ventures the veneer of respectability, once our name was formally attached with the Federov one.
Parading her around at all the various society dinners and charity events would open new diplomatic doors, which was a polite way of saying backdoor entrances to corrupt leaders, military officials and politicians who controlled massive spending contracts.
Yes, it would be a lucrative deal for both families. In fact, since her father was in such dire straits, we had already transferred a considerable amount into his offshore accounts to ensure everyone’s complicity.
Of course, none of this had been told to Samara yet.
Until all matters had been decided, it was none of her concern. She would do as she was told.
As the eldest, the duty of marrying her ultimately fell on my shoulders… whether or not I liked it.
It didn’t help that my first glimpse of her in five years, I find her alone with some boy, pressed against the wall with her legs spread like some whore.
Her father had assured us that Samara was a good, obedient girl who had had a sheltered upbringing and was still a virgin. I assumed with her being a close friend of my little sister that it must be true.
Now, I was not so sure.
Her body trembled within my embrace. She was so small and delicate. As I trapped her against the wall with just the threat of my height alone, it was like cupping a baby bird in my palm. Watching the tiny bundle of feathers and thin bones twitch and shake with fear.
“What are you talking about?” she asked. Her eyes stared at the knot of my tie.
I placed a finger under her chin and forced her gaze up.
“You were a very bad girl to let that boy drag you into a room alone.”
She opened her mouth to speak.
I shifted my hand and placed a finger over her lips.
“Don’t. I’m already angry, and you’ve already earned yourself a severe punishment. Don’t make it worse.”
“Punishment?” Her green eyes widened at the word.
Running the back of my knuckles down her cheek in more of a threat than a caress, I said, “Yes, malyshka, punishment for being so foolish and reckless.”
The pulse at her throat jumped. “You’re crazy if you think I’m going to let you punish me, Gregor.”
I pulled on one of her long dark curls. “It’s adorable that you think you have a choice in the matter.”
That was when my little bird started to fight.
Samara kicked and thrashed within my embrace, struggling to get to the door.
Grabbing her around the waist, I roared, “Enough!”
She instantly stilled.
Good girl.
Lifting her high, I crossed the room to the upholstered chairs in front of the unlit fireplace.
I sat down in one and placed her on my lap.
Compared to my considerable size, she really was a little thing.
The thought of getting my thick cock inside what was sure to be her tight pussy had me reaching between us to adjust myself as my shaft thickened and lengthened.
Samara squirmed.
I groaned and grit out between clenched teeth, “Be still.”
For emphasis, I raised my hips up slightly so she could feel the hard ridge of my cock press against her bottom. Her eyes widened.
“Exactly,” I quipped.
I took a deep breath and reminded myself it was my little sister’s birthday party. If we weren’t missed already, we would be soon. They were probably getting ready to cut the cake. Now was not the time to sink my cock deep inside my soon-to-be wife. There would be plenty of time for that later.
I positioned the chair closer to the windows so I could see more of her in the moonlight.
Her ivory skin seemed almost to glow. In the soft light, I couldn’t quite make out the pink shade of her lips, but the bottom one was slightly fuller than the top, which formed a cute little cupid’s bow.
Like when she was young, she still wore her dark hair long and in curls down her back.
Looking down her slender neck, I observed the bruises on the top of her breast. I pulled the fabric of her neckline aside. Samara objected, grabbing my hand to stop me. One hard look and she relented.
Seeing the dark smudges on her perfect skin, I uttered a curse under my breath. “I’ll kill him for hurting you like this.”
“He… he didn’t mean it.”
“You’re defending him?”
“No. It’s just… it’s fine.”
I pulled the fabric down a little further and exposed the pink lace of her bra. Her breasts weren’t large, just enough to fill a man’s hands. Perfect.
With a single fingertip, I traced the scalloped lace edge. “Samara, it’s not fine. He touched what’s mine. I can’t let him get away with that.”
Samara played with a button on her dress, avoiding making eye contact. “Why do you keep saying that?”
“Saying what?”
I knew what she was asking. I just wanted to hear the words on her lips.
“Why do you keep saying that… that I’m yours?” she whispered.
There it was. I was a little surprised how much I enjoyed hearing the words I’m yours coming from her.
For me, this really was supposed to be just a business transaction with some fringe benefits.
My plan had been to wed and bed her and then return to Russia and my life and other women there.
Perhaps I would stay in the states a little longer after all.
For a slip of a girl there was something about her that intrigued me.
A spirit that sparked behind her eyes.
For whatever reason, I was definitely feeling possessive of her.
When I saw her in the arms of that fucking boy, I wanted to tear his throat out, especially after I saw the fear in her eyes.
She was mine and mine alone, bought and paid for, and no one but me had the right to touch her.
It was a heady emotion to realize I was going to be the only man in this special creature’s life.
Or at least I was supposed to be the only man, assuming she was untouched as her father claimed.
“Because you are, malyshka.”
I knew she didn’t understand. How could she? And I was a bastard because I had no intention of explaining it to her… not yet.
I cupped her jaw and pulled her head down.
Using the tip of my tongue, I teased her bottom lip, then the top.
I traced the seam. Her mouth opened just slightly with a gasp.
Still using only the tip, I flicked along the edge of her teeth and coaxed her own tongue to spar with mine. Her mouth opened a little more.
I groaned against her lips. “That’s it, baby, open for me.”
My tongue swept in. She tasted of peppermint candy and champagne and innocence.
Shifting in the seat, I pressed my cock against her hip as I forced my tongue deeper into her mouth. She whimpered, and her small hands grasped at my chest. She was such an ingenue, so untried.
Her mouth broke free. She tilted her head back and away, trying to catch her breath. “Please, Gregor. Wait! I need to—”
But I didn’t stop… I couldn’t.
I dragged my teeth along her jaw; I swept my tongue down her throat, tasting her pulse. My hand skimmed her waist to cup her breast, my fingers seeking and finding the small pebble of her nipple. Rolling it between my finger and thumb, I pinched it hard.
Samara’s hips rose up as she cried out. She pushed against my chest, once more straining to break free. I knew I was overwhelming her, probably scaring her more than that boy did an hour ago, but I was too far gone to care. Her innocence was like a drug.
Moving my mouth across her cheek, I captured her delicate earlobe between my teeth and bit down as my hand moved from her breast over her belly to between her thighs. As my tongue traced the shell of her ear, I lifted the hem of her dress.
Her small hands grasped my wrists. “Wait, Gregor. We can’t.”
Her skin was a creamy ivory, pure and unblemished.
Her hands looked like the tip of an angel’s wing resting against the savage darkness of my tattoos, which displayed countless symbols of violence and power.
A stark allegory of the corrupting influence I was about to have on her perfect little suburban life.
I shook her off and raised the hem. Pushed my fingers into the waistband of her panties.
I could feel the soft down of her pussy against the back of my hand as I pushed her panties lower on her thighs.
“Gregor! Stop!” Samara begged as she squirmed on my lap, which only inflamed me more.
“Are you a virgin?” I asked against her neck.
“What?” she gasped.
“You heard me, Samara.”
“You have no right to ask me that!”
“I have the right of a husb— Just answer me,” I ground out.
“No.”
“No, you aren’t a virgin or no you won’t answer?”
Her cheeks flamed as she averted her face. “You’re a bully and a brute and I hate you! Let me go!”
She struggled in earnest as she tried to get off my lap. That would not happen, not before I had my answer.
Grasping her by the hair, I wrenched her head back and took possession of her mouth, swallowing her screams. Ignoring her legs as they kicked, I pushed my hand between her legs.
I ran two fingers along the seam of her pussy, pleased to feel the evidence of her arousal.
With my middle finger, I teased her tight entrance, slipping in to the first knuckle.
Her body clasped tightly around me. I groaned as I imagined the same sensation around my shaft.
Freeing her lips, I growled against her mouth. “This may hurt, malyshka.”
With no warning, I thrust my finger in deep, pushing hard till I felt the thin delicate membrane of her maidenhead. She was still intact.
Fuck, she was tight.
It was going to be a struggle to get my thick cock inside her.
“You are lucky you are still innocent or I would have had to kill the man who had robbed me of what was rightfully mine.”
I pulled my finger free and slipped it inside my mouth, tasting her.
Her pretty lips opened on a shocked gasp, but she didn’t respond.
Knowing I’d been rough with her, I pulled her panties up and her dress hem down as gently as I could.
She lowered her head. I brushed her soft curls away from her face and forced her to meet my gaze.
Her emerald eyes sparkled with gold flecks as tears streamed down her flushed cheeks. She hopped off my lap and took several steps away from me. Swiping at her tears, she swore, “I hate you Gregor Ivanov, and I never want to see you ever again.”
Rising, I adjusted my still painfully hard cock in my pants before closing my suit jacket. “Well, malyshka, that’s going to be difficult, seeing as how I’ll be your husband two weeks from now.”