You Don't Own Me: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance (The Russian Don Book 2) (30 page)

Layla

I
have my stockinged feet up on the radiator and the radio is on as we drive away from London to BJ’s country house. Outside, the rain is lashing down in sheets making visibility poor. It makes me feel we are in a bubble.
Lost Frequencies
comes on.

‘This is my most favorite song in the whole wide world,’ I tell him and turn it up as loud as it will go.

He smiles.

My lips are painted red and I feel happy. The kind of happy that makes you feel like you can jump up and touch the ceiling. When you think you love the whole world and everyone in it because you are so happy.

The electric gates open and we drive into Silver Lee. It is only two o’clock, but it is already dark and all the lights have been lit. BJ opens the door and I precede him.

‘Is no one in?’

‘No, I asked my housekeeper to make himself scarce until later tonight.’

I grin. ‘So we are totally alone?’

‘Not quite. There is someone I have to introduce you to.’

I raise my eyebrows.

‘He’s a bit of an old fart and doesn’t like people, but he’s kind of important to me so let’s see what you make of each other.’

‘OK.’

We walk down through the house with its curving glass frontage. A storm is raging outside. He pauses by a door. ‘He can be quite foul mouthed,’ he warns.

Then he opens the door and a nasal voice screeches, ‘Did you fuck him?’ My mouth drops open. BJ makes an after-you gesture with his hand. ‘Bitch, better have my money. Bitch better. Bitch better. Pay me what you owe me.’ I enter the room and there is no one in there. There’s just a grey parrot with a red tail.

‘Meet Jeremy Thomas,’ BJ says walking towards the bird. He holds his hand under it. ‘Step up,’ he says and the bird climbs on to his hand and looks at me with its head cocked to one side. ‘Cunt.’

I laugh. ‘Did your bird just call me a cunt?’

‘Yeah, I forgot to say he’s a bit of a misogynist. My mother hates him.’

‘Has he called her one too?’

‘I’m afraid so. He used to belong to a Jamaican pimp so he generally has a very bad opinion of women and he’s always asking them for money.’

‘Give Jeremy a nut. Give Jeremy a nut,’ the bird squawks.

‘What kind of a bird is he?’

‘An African Grey.’

‘And how on earth did you get him?’

‘His owner owed me money and had to leave the country in a hurry. So I took the bird.’

Jeremy fixes me with a belligerent eye and flaps his wings. ‘You’re wet.’

I gasp.

BJ turns to me with a glimmer of laughter in his eyes. ‘It’s not what you think. He just wants a bath.’

I laugh.

‘Want a cookie.’

BJ gives him something from his pocket and the bird holds it in his claws and eats it.

‘Oh BJ. I think he’s gorgeous.’

BJ grins happily and there is nothing to outshine his smile. I about melt into a puddle right there and then.

‘God only knows why I care so much for this stupid bird,’ he says.

‘You’re a wimp,’ Jeremy says and begins to laugh like a human.

It is funny and we both laugh.

‘Kiss. Oops, bad birdie. Bite the dog. Bad dog.’

‘How old is he?’

‘Not sure, but older than you and me. He’s maybe 40.’

‘Wow. Can he fly?’

‘Give me the money, bitch,’ the bird squawks.

‘Yup, he can fly.’

‘Do you take him outside?’

‘I have in the past, but he doesn’t really seem to like it.’

I watch Jeremy get a bath. It’s the cutest thing ever. It is fun and we both laugh. I look at BJ with his bird and I can hardly believe that this is the same aggressive fighting monster I saw in the pit.

I offer Jeremy a nut. He takes it from me and quickly flutters away screeching, ‘Where’s my money, bitch.’

I laugh and BJ catches me by the waist. I look up at him, tall and broad-shouldered, and the laughter dies in my throat.

‘Time my cock was inside you,’ he says.

I hop on to his body and wrap my legs around his hips. ‘Carry me to your bed and ravish me then,’ I whisper daringly.

We go up the stairs and he opens the door to the bedroom where I had received my spanking. He puts me at the edge of the bed. Outside the wind howls. Inside we are absolutely silent. I cannot even hear my own heartbeat. The only sound is the fire crackling in the fireplace.

He starts off by kissing me. By the time he raises his mouth I am totally nude.

‘That’s a clever trick. Now show me my cock,’ I whisper hoarsely.

He throws aside his t-shirt and unbuttons his trousers. I drink in the inked, tanned skin, the barely leashed strength in his coiled muscles and follow the line of straight black hair on its epic journey down to his crotch. The last scrap of cloth slides to the floor and I fix my gaze on his cock. Have me with a side order of caviar, or a maraschino cherry and two scoops of ice cream, or just me on my own, but fucking eat me, it screams aggressively.

I
love
his raging cock.

I grab his hips and slowly slide my puckered mouth over the thick roll of meat. He groans with pleasure. The heat of his lust flows from him onto my skin. I love sucking his cock. I’ll make all the other women who have taken him into their mouths a memory that never was. It is a lazy, dreamlike thought.

Outside the storm passes. The sky becomes milky white, shadows move, but I do not stop. Every time he is about to come, I pause, I change my rhythm. He hisses with frustration. I understand. It’s annoying. But there is a point to it all. My lips grow as numb, but I do not stop. As if sucking his cock is an old tradition that can bring bad luck if broken.

But he has other ideas.

He seizes my head, fully determined that I will no longer have the reins, and starts thrusting lustily towards his climax. I taste the salt in my mouth and jerk my head back so his cum sprays onto my face, my open mouth, my chin, and my throat. There is nothing he has done to another woman that he cannot do to me. When the last drop has been squeezed onto me I slip my tongue out of my mouth and slowly lick his cum from my lips.

He smears the rest on my face, neck and breasts.

Then he pushes me onto my back and presses his naked flank into my softness, crushing it beautifully, and thrusts into my body as it arches up to receive him. The sensation is magic. My loins ache. My insides feel raw. A gasp. A cry. A stiffening. His muscles strain and ripple urgently. We move together, slick and sliding against each other. My breath comes faster as his cock swells inside me. The whole time his gaze never leaves mine, his eyes smoldering and rapt. The moments lengthen into technicolor dreams: rich like wine. I sigh at his gentle hands, his velvet mouth.

Afterwards, I slip on his t-shirt and we drink apple mojitos. He is funny. I laugh. We have sex on the floor. Then we drink more mojitos and eat cold chicken and popcorn. I feel myself become lazily drunk.

‘You up for a fuck?’ I ask. There is a definite slur in my voice. An elongation of the vowels.

‘Is Fukushima leaking radiation?’

I fling off his t-shirt and hair trailing down my naked back, crawl around the food towards him.

He puts a dark hand on my pale exposed shoulder.

I push him to the ground and climb atop him. His strong hands curl around my ribs to keep my body steady as I impale myself on his cock. I know I’m tipsy and without a steady rhythm. Despite that, we come quickly. I lie on his body and listen to the dull beat of his heart. I love simply having him inside me.

‘I could fall asleep like this,’ I whisper.

‘Get on your hands and knees, woman.’

Hours later, the fire has burned down to embers and ashes. I lie weary and trembling beside him in the dark. I reach out a hand and touch him, a gesture that is both a question and reverent. My eyes are wide and filled with a strange new perspective, an awareness, an impossible intensity, as if I have never been truly or fully alive before.

‘I have to get back to London soon.’

He turns towards me, his face drugged and slack with desire. ‘Not yet. I’ve not had enough of you.’

‘Ahhhhh,’ I gasp, my juices splashing into his mouth.

Layla

‘I
got the job,’ I crow into the phone.

He laughs. A good sound.

‘You are now talking to a member of Vincent & Prestige’s Studio’s team of interior designers. I start my first design and fit-out assignment on Monday!’

‘Want to celebrate over lunch?’

I feel the disappointment inside my body, like a wave passing through. ‘I can’t. I’m going shopping with my sister-in-law. We’re buying baby stuff.’

‘How’s Lily?’

‘She’s quietly freaking out after convincing Jake that she should have a totally natural childbirth in their bathtub. She’s actually going to give birth without an epidural! Apparently she’s going to be sucking on sugar pills the whole time. I told her I think she’s bananas. When I have a baby I want to be put out. And I don’t mean just an epidural. I mean general anesthetic. I don’t want to know nothing! Nada. I want to wake up to my husband holding a pink baby all clean and wrapped up in blankets.’

The silence on the other end is so thick you could have spread it on a slice of bread. Then it hits me how I must sound to him. A crazy woman banging on about babies three days after having sex with him. And with him being a player—yeah, even then I resisted the words junkyard dog.

‘Thank God it will be at least ten years before I am in such a position,’ I rush into the treacle of silence.

‘We should celebrate your job offer,’ he says evenly.

I breathe a sigh of relief. ‘Yeah, we should,’ I agree.

‘Where do you want to go?’ he asks.

My response is immediate. No need to think about it. ‘Silver Lee.’

‘Don’t you want to go somewhere nice? It’s a celebration, after all.’

‘Nope. I still haven’t had a proper tour of your house, remember?’

Strike two. I hear his reluctance, like sandpaper on my skin. He doesn’t want to give me a tour. Why on earth not? ‘If you don’t want to it’s OK.’ Oh my God! I am becoming a doormat.

There is a pause. Then. ‘All right. I’ll show you around. Pick you up at 3:00?’

‘See you then.’

I slip into the passenger seat of BJ’s carbon-edition Aston Martin, close the door, and turn toward him. Wow! He’s rocking a sexy five o’clock shadow, which makes him look all moody and brooding. His eyes graze over me slowly, but being so dark they give nothing away.

‘Hi,’ I greet breathlessly.

He leans over and kisses me. I’ll say this for him: the man can kiss. In seconds I want to throw my arms around his neck, curl my fingers in his hair, and climb over to his side of the car to lower myself on to his thick cock. My skin tingles. My head starts buzzing. My hand strays to his hard chest.

‘What was that for?’ I whisper, when he breaks away.

His eyes are smoky with desire. He places his finger on my lower lip and drags it along my skin. His voice drops to a faux whisper that caresses my skin. ‘Because you’re so damn beautiful.’

I drop my eyes and go all hot and red with sheer happiness.

He places a finger under my chin and lifts my face. ‘Isn’t that what all the boys who aren’t afraid of your brother tell you?’

My stomach flips. ‘I think there are more boys afraid of my brother than you think.’

‘Since I’m not in the firing line yet, let me tell you, Layla. You’re one hell of a beauty.’

‘You’re not so bad looking yourself,’ I say shyly.

‘Me? I’m an ugly mug. You, you’re another matter. You truly are the beginning of intoxication.’

‘That reminds me, how is it you know so much about my name. Even I thought Layla meant of the night in Arabic.’

‘Because I researched it, Princess.’

‘Is that why you bought a tiepin with the word Layla on it?’

His face closes over.

I frown. ‘What?’

‘Nothing.’ He turns away and starts the engine. ‘So Lily is having a homebirth. When?’

‘Well,’ I say settling myself into the seat. ‘The baby is not due for another three weeks.’

‘And Jake is OK with a homebirth?’

‘Oh, he didn’t like it one bit at first, but being the total control freak that he is, he went out and offered the best midwife in England so much money she is going to uproot her entire family, 3 kids no less, to go and stay at his house two weeks before the baby is due. From what I understand, the poor woman will be virtually a prisoner until the baby is born. Of course he’s also hired a whole medical team to be on standby just in case there’s any kind of complication.’

He laughs. ‘That sounds more like him.’ He sobers suddenly. ‘When do you plan to tell him about us?’

It is my turn to sober up. ‘I want to tell him, but he’s so happy at the moment. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so full of laughter. Can you believe he sings to his baby?’

He turns to look at me briefly, his eyebrows raised.

‘I just don’t want to spoil this time for him. I’ll tell him after the baby is born.’ I pause for a second. Then, I don’t know why, perhaps I am testing him, I add, ‘If we are still together by then.’

His face registers no change, but his hands tighten on the wheel. ‘OK,’ he says tightly. ‘We wait until after the baby is born, but if I am in a position where he asks me outright I’m not going to lie.’

‘That’s fair enough.’

After that we talk of things outside of us. Some of it is light and easy and I laugh a lot, but I come to realize quickly that BJ sees everything from a totally different perspective than me. A much darker, more cynical perspective. He is my total opposite in every way. We disagree on almost all the important aspects of life. He seems to be without the usual social pretensions that normal people indulge in. To start with, he doesn’t have a Facebook page. He thinks all social media is narcissism gone berserk. He is of the opinion that only birds should tweet. Having 865 Internet friends is ludicrous. And wait for it … he has never taken a selfie!

He says he will go back to church again when someone explains where black people came from since Adam and Eve were both lily white. He believes that people should not be trusted since the strongest human traits—greed, jealousy, envy, cruelty—are inborn and already active even in children. Humans have to be taught kindness, generosity, patience, and goodness. BJ believes those traits can only be a thin veneer for the real truth, a cauldron of negative emotions.

‘So you don’t trust me?’ I ask him, my voice is light, my manner is flirtatious, but in fact I am really curious as to what he will say.

He throws a brief glance at me. ‘Where does your mother think you are now?’

‘With Maddy,’ I say slowly.

‘Have I answered your question?’

‘Is there no one you trust?’

‘Jeremy. I trust him.’

‘That’s sad, BJ.’

He shrugs carelessly. ‘Save your sympathy. I set it up like this because I like it this way.’

‘BJ, isn’t your mother alive?’

‘Yeah.’

‘And you don’t trust your own mother?’

‘Don’t get me wrong. I love my mother. I’d do anything for her but no, she hasn’t done much to inspire my trust.’

‘My God. What kind of childhood did you have?’

He gives me a sideways glance. ‘It wasn’t like yours.’

‘So you’ve never trusted anyone in your life?’

‘I trusted my father.’

‘Why?’

‘Because he always showed me his real face. At all times I knew exactly what he was and what I could expect from him.’

Then he is turning into Silver Lee. We go into the house and it is silent, but an amazing lunch has been set out on the dining table. It is almost like being in a fairy tale. Like in Beauty and the Beast when the father finds the deserted palace and a table set with a princely meal.

There is a note on the table. BJ picks it up and reads it.

I am so caught up in the Beauty and the Beast scenario I think that the note might be important. ‘What does it say?’ I ask curiously.

He passes it to me.

There is a tall jug of mojitos

waiting in the fridge.

                        Marcel

He looks at me, sexy smile on his face. ‘Well, what do you want to do first? Eat or fuck?’

If any other man had said that I’d have slapped him and called him a coarse jerk. But BJ, he’s the shining hero in the movie I’m directing, producing, and starring in.

And God! I want him.

‘Fuck,’ I say with half-closed, sultry eyes. Turning, I begin to walk away while undressing at the same time. The dark green top goes over my head and on the floor. My bra follows. I turn around and he is just behind me, staring at my breasts possessively. The desire to press my naked body against him is astonishingly strong, white-knuckle strong.

I lie on a long lilac couch and shimmy out of my skirt and panties. I am suddenly almost feverish with need. Daringly I open my legs wide. He gets down on his haunches and slides his hand up my leg, towards my distended, swollen clitoris. With precise, knowing strokes he rubs the flesh around it. His carnal expertise is irresistible.

I squirm and whimper.

It has never crossed my mind that I would ever be so wild for a man.

He brings his head closer and I prepare for his tongue. Instead a flow of warm air hits my exposed sex.

‘Ah,’ I cry at the exquisitely delicate sensation. Like a fine wine or the faint earthy flavor of truffle shavings on a plate of buttery pasta. My eyes close to fully savor it. When his silky tongue touches my clit it is unexpected and shockingly intense. My body arches like a bow. He licks the pulsing flesh like a kitten. He slides his fingers deeper inside me and pumps them furiously. My body heats up and sweat dampens my skin. I grasp his hair and curl my legs around his large body, the way he taught me to.

‘Please,’ I beg.

He lifts his head and unlocking my legs, opens me wide. He stands and looks down at me splayed and ready for him. With heavy-lidded eyes he starts to undress. He discards his pants and my gaze moves to the well-defined, hard bulge in his white briefs. The thick mushroom head is already poking out of the top of his underwear. He stops. My eyes move up to his and hot blood rushes up my throat to be caught looking at his erection so hungrily. I have never stared at a man like this. Not ever.

He fits a rubber on himself and, putting his hands on either side of me, mounts me. He pounds me hard a few times. There is something frenzied and electric about the urgency of his thrusts. I know then that he cannot wait any longer. I milk the cream of his body with my own and he explodes, his head thrown back and utterly silent.

For seconds his face is buried in my breasts. He might even have gently sucked my nipple, I am in a daze of contentment. Then he rouses himself and, looking into my eyes, brings me to climax.

‘You’re beautiful when you come,’ he whispers. His face is flushed and his eyes are the softest black.

Afterwards, we eat, but I find I have hardly any appetite. Every time his eyes rest on me, I feel my lack of underwear, how wet I am, and how much I long to have him back inside me.

Maddy’s call interrupts our total absorption with each other. She tells me my mother is looking for me. I didn’t hear my phone while we were having sex. I look up at BJ. His eyes are expressionless. He listens to me call my mother and lie about where I am and what I am doing since I am not with Maddy after all. It is easy to lie to Ma. She isn’t expecting me to. I end the call and face him.