You Don't Own Me: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance (The Russian Don Book 2) (8 page)

Dahlia Fury

Have some candy.

                         -King Candy

‘O
h yeah,’ I say, and take him upstairs to his room. I open the door and find the two girls have had time to slip upstairs after the cake was cut and light more than a hundred candles. The flames are flickering and dancing all over the floor, on the bedside table, the dresser, the windowsill. The candles on the floor are arranged to make a clear path towards the bed. I turn around to look at him and he is gazing around the room with a bemused expression. I lead him to the bed and placing both my hands on his chest push him. He falls back on the bed and looks up at me. 

In the yellow flickering light of the candles he is as beautiful as a fallen angel or a wonderful marble statue. The aquiline nose and strong jaw are like something a Renaissance stonecutter might have spent years sculpting in his drafty studio.

‘I come bearing gifts,’ I say to him.

His eyebrows rise. ‘You’re the gift, babe.’

I giggle. ‘No, you’ll like this one, and I want you to know that I didn’t use your credit card to get these, OK?’

‘OK,’ he says almost warily, and sits up.

I reach out and take the two packages covered in silver wrapping paper.  I sit on the bed and give them to him. He shakes it and the little Star Wars flash drives rattle in their box.

‘Go on open it,’ I urge.

He tears the wrapping paper and opens the box. ‘You got me toys?’ he asks incredulously.

‘They’re not toys. They’re flash drives.’ I take Chewbacca from the box.  ‘See, pull it apart and there you go.’

‘Right. Great. Thanks,’ he says.

That didn’t go down too well. Maybe Star Wars flash drives are really a Star Wars fans sort of thing. Never mind. Luckily I got the male masturbator. ‘Now open the other one,’ I say, holding that out to him.

He takes it, opens the packaging, and looks up at me with even more incredulity than he had shown when he thought I had given him toys. ‘You got me a male masturbator?’

‘Yeah, and the lubricant that goes with it. You insert your dick in here,’ I say pointing to the hole in the gadget.

‘Of course,’ he says dryly.

His lack of enthusiasm is perplexing. I think it’s a great present. ‘Don’t tell me you already own one?’

‘No,’ he denies quickly.

I switch it on. It makes a gentle whirling sound as all the little fingers in the hole start their massaging movements. ‘Don’t you think it is fun?’

He switches it off firmly. ‘Sure, but I’d rather insert my dick into you.’

‘This is for when I’m not around,’ I say softly.

He turns away, puts the presents on the bedside cabinet, and leans back against the pillows. ‘Since you’re around now. Give me my real present.’

My mouth goes dry with the sexual heat in his eyes. Our bodies seem to pull at each other. He wants me so bad I can feel it like an invisible, powerful magnet. In that moment I feel powerful and strong. Smiling provocatively, I stand and slowly and deliberately start unzipping my dress. It pools around my high heels and I am standing in my chemise with its horizontal slashes all the way down the middle. His eyes drift from the slit exposing the round fullness of my breasts down to the one that reveals my pussy.

‘Jesus, Dahlia!’ he mouths. ‘You’re pure woman. Every inch of you is just such a fucking turn on.’

I snake my hands above my head, whirl slowly around, and pushing my butt out gyrate my hip sensuously. I can feel my bare ass rubbing against the laces running across it. I swivel my head back to look at him. His eyes are entranced, lost, staring at the soft, wet flesh between the diamond-shaped gap at the top of my thighs. He lifts his gaze up to meet mine.

‘Tell me what you want, Aleksandr Malenkov?’ I ask softly. ‘The spirits I have consumed have made me daring, so tonight I’ll do anything you want me to.’

His eyebrows rise. ‘Anything?’

I turn around. ‘Any … fucking … thing.’

‘I’ll have to take a rain check on any … fucking … thing, cause tonight I only want your tight, wet cunt fucking my cock in that dress.’

Crouching down, I take off his shoes and socks, and drop them on the floor before climbing on the bed and crawling in my stripper shoes over to him. Holding his eyes I unbuckle his belt, undo his trouser button, and pull down the zip. His cock is so hard it pokes out of his underpants. Urgently he lifts his hips so I can slide his pants out from under him. I peel his briefs down his hips and his dick springs free. I pull the material down his legs and sit on his thighs, inches away from his throbbing cock. Unhurriedly I unbutton his shirt. He lifts off the bed and, rising to my knees, I take off his shirt to reveal his nudity.

I can’t take my eyes away from his glorious body.

It’s not that I want to stare. I simply can’t stop myself. No matter how many times I look at him, the sight makes me want to lick him all over. His inked chest moves up and down with the rhythm of his breath. It makes me crazy for him. I want to crawl into his skin. I move my wet pussy over his cock, grazing it.

‘Touch yourself,’ he says thickly.

I spread my legs wider and stroke my swollen clit. I plunge a finger in and moan, ‘I want you inside me.’

He reaches forward and pulls my dress so it is bunched up around my waist.

‘Sit on my cock. I want to see my cock disappear into your body.’

I grasp the thick shaft, point his cock at my slick opening and thrust down. The sensation of being so suddenly penetrated and stretched so full makes my body arch. His cock jumps inside me.

‘All the way,’ he commands.

I slide down that thick shaft until I feel the hard muscle of his thighs. Then I lean forward so my throbbing clit is touching his pubic bone and grind my pussy on it. The sensation is amazing. I love it. I move faster and faster, sliding up and down that glorious shaft of hard meat.

When I feel the ecstasy begin, I ride him as hard as I can, my thighs quivering, juices squirting out of me. There is no stopping me now. My pussy clenches, my skin starts tingling. Let him fuck me until he understands that I am his. Mind, body and soul.

But without warning he grabs my waist and pulls me clear off his cock.

‘Nooooo,’ I protest, but he lifts me off his body.

‘I want you to sit on my face and move your wet cunt all over it. I want to eat you out until you come,’ he growls, and holding my pussy suspended over his face, he inhales my aroma as if it is heady perfume. 

I drip onto his tongue.

‘This pussy is mine,’ he mutters and lowers me onto his mouth. First he swipes his silky tongue along the entire pulsing crack to lick up all my juices, and then he starts lapping at my pussy just like a thirsty dog. My head is thrown back and my body arches and twists against his mouth. Gripping my hips he fucks me with his tongue. Then he-oh fuck-sucks my clit into his mouth until I am screaming. Just screaming.

I ride out my orgasm grinding into his face and yelling out his name. My juices gushing into his mouth, and running down his face and neck. He grabs my ass cheeks and keeps on sucking, fucking, and licking my pussy, forcing me to come again. And again. My muscles are still shaking and convulsing, and his face and hair are soaked and glistening in the candlelight when he moves abruptly. He rolls me to my side, gets on top of me and, opening my legs wide, plunges into my hot flesh.

‘Oh yes,’ I cry. ‘Take me hard, Zane.’

‘Like this?’ He grabs my wrists and, holding them high over my head, slams even harder into me.

‘Fuck yes,’ I whimper.

‘And this?’ he says thrusting savagely into me. To my astonishment I can feel myself starting to climax again.

My mouth opens in a gasp. ‘I can’t control myself,’ I burst. ‘I’m going to come all over your cock.’

‘No,’ he says, slowing his movement down. ‘You’ll come when I tell you to come.’

My body jerks spasmodically and my head turns from side to side in desperation. ‘I’m gonna come, Zane. Sorry. I just can’t hold on.’

He pulls his cockhead clear out of me, waits for a second, then rams back inside. Burying himself to the hilt. Like a greedy thing my pussy pushes upwards to meet the thrust.

‘Fuck, baby. I’ve got to come. You gotta let me come,’ I beg.

‘Not yet. This is my pussy. Mine. I’ll decide when she comes.’

He bends his head and bites my nipple. The pain brings me back from the edge. He licks the throbbing tip rapidly and a gloriously warm sensation spreads out from that nipple into the rest of my body.

I grip his erection tightly.

‘You’re so damn tight,’ he shudders, as he starts slamming and pounding into me with a real frenzy, grunting, chasing his release. Every time his body touches my clit, I squirm, coil and writhe like a cut snake underneath him. I am holding on to my own release by my fingernails, waiting for him to say, ‘yes, let go.’

He rides me until the muscles of his shoulders and neck begin to strain, and there it is, the permission to come.

‘Come now,’ he orders … and instantly I come. Excruciatingly. Laid bare. Raw. Wild. Naked. Exposed. My heart wide open.

He is still exploding inside me when I whisper, ‘I love you.’

He gazes down at me as my shuddering pussy milks the last drops, the very last seed out of his cock.

Something in his eyes. They can’t look into mine.  He heard me.

I capture his chin and wait until his gaze meets mine. ‘It’s OK. You don’t have to say it back.’

He stares at me and I wonder what horror has brought such sorrow into his eyes. Then he bends his head and takes my lips. The kiss is so full of soul and tenderness that suddenly I know.

His body is telling me what his tongue cannot say.

Aleksandr Malenkov

M
ama comes to help me stand up.

‘I’m all right,’ I tell her.

‘Shall I get you some tea?’ she asks.

‘No, I’m fine.’

I look at her. Her face is white. How the years have changed her. She has become more and more silent. Her spirit is broken. He broke her spirit.

‘Mama, why don’t we run away?’

Her lips tremble. She presses them together. ‘There is nowhere to go. I have no money,’ she says.

‘I can work. I’m old enough.’

‘You’re twelve.’

‘I can fight for money. I can beat grown men.’

She grasps both my hands together and shakes her head vigorously and fixes me with a desperate stare. ‘No. You will not fight. You will go to school. You will study and you will become something special. I’m all right. If only you wouldn’t interfere when we argue, my precious son.’

‘I’ll never let him hurt you,’ I say angrily.

‘He doesn’t hurt me. A few punches. Nothing serious. These things happen between adults.’

‘I hate him,’ I mutter.

‘Hush. Don’t ever say that,’ she says sadly.

‘Why not? He is horrible.’

‘I will always be grateful to him.’

I stare at her in disbelief. ‘Why?’

‘Because he gave me you.’

I close my eyes in despair.

‘And because he has no one else. When he was well, before that trauma to his brain, before that bullet lodged in his head he was a good man. A really good man and I promised to stay with him through sickness and health. So now that he is ill, and he is ill, Aleksandr, it is an illness, I can’t abandon him just like that. I made a promise to be loyal to him and I can’t break it.’ She smooths my hair away from my forehead and kisses me gently.

‘One day you will fall deeply in love with someone and you will understand that no matter what the other person does you will be unable to kill the love you have for them.’

‘I will never fall in love with anyone,’ I swear bitterly. ‘Never.’

Dahlia Fury

I
wake up two mornings later and Zane says to me, ‘We’re going to Rome.’

‘What? When?’ I ask with a big stupid grin plastered all over my sleepy face.

‘Today.’

‘Huh? Why?’

He shrugs casually. ‘Weekend break.’

‘But why didn’t you warn me?’

‘It’s a surprise. A bit like your surprise party.’

‘OK, great.’

‘We’ll be travelling incognito though.’

My grin dies away. ‘What do you mean?’

‘We’ll be travelling as Mr. and Mrs. Zhivanecskaya.’

I stare at him stunned. ‘You mean we’ll be using
fake
passports?’

He reaches to the bedside cabinet drawer and extracts two passports. He looks into the first, then passes me the second one. I look at it and there it is. The photograph of me that Yuri took for security purposes teamed with the name Dahlia Zhivanescskaya.  Age 24.

‘I can’t even pronounce my last name,’ I whisper.

He says it slowly.

My eyes narrow suspiciously. ‘Why do we need fake passports? Are we going to be smuggling drugs, or some kind of contraband?’

‘Not drugs. You’ll be carrying 15 million Euros worth of diamonds.’

The passport falls from my hand. ‘What?’ I splutter.

He actually looks at me sheepishly, as if asking someone to illegally carry 15 million Euros worth of diamonds is a sheepish matter. ‘Don’t worry,’ he adds in a conciliatory tone, ‘there is no chance of us getting caught. We’ll be flying private and I know the people at the airport.’

I shake my head in disbelief. Us? He means me! ‘You want
me
to be a diamond mule?’ I’m not sure if that is what the idiot carrying the diamonds is called, but this conversation is so out there my brain can’t compute. Then I become absolutely livid. ‘How dare you even ask me to do such a thing?’

He seems surprised by my reaction. ‘Do you have a problem with it?’

‘Yes, I fucking have a big problem with it.’

‘The others didn’t,’ he says mildly.

I glare at him. ‘I don’t know what kind of women you’ve been dating, but
yes
, I
do
mind very much. I’m not carrying diamonds for you. You must be out of your head to think I would do something like that.’ Then another thought occurs to me. ‘And how am I supposed to be transporting these diamonds?’

‘Inside your vagina,’ he says slowly.

My mouth drops open. ‘Oh my God. I don’t believe this. You think it is OK to ask me to stuff a bunch of diamonds up my vagina and take them across borders for you? I really thought better of you.’

‘Will you at least think about it?’ he asks in a wheedling voice.

That fucking makes me explode. ‘Fuck no,’ I yell.

‘Damn. Does this mean I’ll have to take someone else instead?’ he ponders, staring away from me.

Then it hits me. ‘You bastard!’ I cry and, pulling up a pillow, smack his head as hard as I can. He goes down laughing.

‘I really thought you were serious,’ I say, and continue hitting him.

He grabs a pillow and swings it into my body. Immediately I slam my pillow back at him really hard and feathers start flying around us. I get on my knees to take my attack to the next level but he tackles me and brings me down. Pinning me down with his body he grins at me.

‘You’re an asshole, you know?’ I pant.

‘You deserve it for assuming I’d ask you to do a low thing like that,’ he says with a laugh.

‘I don’t know you well enough for you to play those kinds of jokes on me,’ I say primly.

He raises his eyebrows. ‘You don’t know me well enough? How well do you have to know me? I suck your pussy!’

‘Nevertheless it was a horrid prank,’ I say, pretending to be angry.

He smiles at me. ‘Sorry. I couldn’t help it. You’re delicious when you are outraged.’

I crack a smile. He is so gorgeous it is impossible to even pretend to be angry with him. I want to kiss his throat. ‘So why are we really going?’

‘Because the oppressive heat of summer is gone, Italy is an explosion of color. Autumn is also harvest season for truffles, chestnuts, and pumpkins so it is the best time to eat pasta
al tartufo
or pumpkin risotto.’

I look at him curiously. ‘I got all that, but why are we travelling incognito?’

‘Because I love it. Incognito means there is no need for security. We will go to a villa that Boris has rented and paid for in cash. Nobody will know where we are. We will be completely free to go anywhere we want and do anything we want.’

‘Just the two of us?’

He nods.

‘No one is coming with us?’ I ask because it is such a novel idea.

He shakes his head.

‘No Noah?’

He shakes his head again.

‘No Yuri or Boris?’

He repeats the movement of his head.

‘Not even the driver?’

‘Just you and me,
rybka
.’

‘Actually it sounds awesome.’

‘I think so too,’ he says softly. He reaches into the drawer again. I lift my head up to look. ‘What’s that?’ I ask curiously.

Taking my finger he slips a platinum ring with a massive stone on it.

‘That’s a diamond by the way,’ he says casually. Then he adds a plain band on top of the first ring.

My lips part with a strange emotion, but neither the gesture nor the moment has any real significance to him.

‘There, it fits perfectly,’ he says.

‘Yes,’ I whisper. I take a deep breath. I have to act normally. I have to be cool. Maybe a little humor. ‘You do realize that you won’t be getting these babies back after the vacation, don’t you?’

‘They’re yours,’ he says, an odd inflection in his voice.

I swallow hard. Does he even realize what he is saying?
Quick change the subject, Dahlia
. ‘Are you sure travelling with fake passports is safe? What if we get caught?’

‘These are real passports. The owners died in a car crash and their families sold them on to forgers. These here are exactly the same type of documents used by Mossad agents. There is absolutely no way anyone can tell the difference unless they investigate deeply, but nobody’s going to investigate us deeply. We’re just going to spend the weekend in Rome.’

‘OK, but if we end up in prison …’ I warn.

He drops his voice to a whisper. ‘It’s an adventure, little fish.’

His hands start spreading my thighs. I glare at him. ‘I’m still angry with you.’

He slips a finger inside me. Of course I have to be soaking wet. ‘No, you’re not,’ he says with a chuckle.

Ah, what the heck. It’s hard to pretend to be angry when you’re having such fun, anyway.