Page 22 of Dangerous Games

She winces as the belt buckle jingles and whimpers. “I know who you are.” Her voice is shaking, but she does not hold back. She’s not timid at all as she says it, which makes me freeze, belt in hand, ready to whip her. “I know who you are, and I can ruin you.”

I remove my hand from her back, shocked at her admission. It isn’t at all what I expected her to say.

“You what?”

She straightens and turns to face me, inches from my body. Her tits brush over my arm and make my skin tingle. She may know my name, but she has no clue who she’s dealing with. I stare her down, daring her to do her worst as I lower my arm and wait for her to speak again.

“I had this ‘date’ one night. His name was Victor Horatio. I know it was probably a fake name, but he knew shit.” She is bold now, leaning against me, posturing. Not even my own brothers would do this, stand up to me like this. This woman has guts. She glares at me, raising her chin to continue. “He told me about you, Dominic Gusev. Told me you were Bratva, the leader or some shit. He told me your mother slit her own throat just to make you the man you are today.”

The instant the words leave her mouth, my hand leaves my side. It’s instinct. I don’t mean to hurt her, but she yelps and sits on the edge of the bed holding her cheek. Fury burns inside my veins, and I take a step back.

“Don’t you ever speak of my mother that way again,” I hiss. I can’t stay here, or I will hurt her. There will not be any angry sex to sate my lust and teach her a lesson. It will be dangerous for her. So, I storm out, slamming the door behind me but it bounces open. It won’t even shut now. There is no way to restrain her and keep her there, and she is on my heels like a yappy dog, barking while it chases me down to my office.

“You admit it then? You’re the son of the pakhan? You’re going to lead the largest organized crime family in this city?”

Nanette’s bare feet slap on the marble as she chases after me. I can’t stand the sound. It unnerves me, brings back horrible memories of that sound, the skin slapping skin. I need to drown it. I go directly to my liquor cabinet, and I skip the glass, downing several gulps of my best Scotch while she pries more.

“You’re watching me? That’s my room!” she snaps, pointing at the closed-circuit TV. “That’s insane. You’re a pervert. How can you do that!” Her fists pummel me again while I down another shot. No one does this to me—no one. So why do I let her? What is she to me that I don’t defend myself?

“Stop!” I snap, blocking her from hitting my chest as I set the bottle down, but she does not stop swinging. “I said, stop, Nanette!”

I grab her wrists and back her up to the wall, pinning her there as I catch my breath. She squirms, breaking her hands free from my grasp and darts away. I whip around to see her pick up the small television and fling across the room in my direction. I dodge it and it smashes on the wall. I watch it shatter and as I turn to see where she is next, I see the bottle of Scotch flying at me. She continues to throw things that I have to dodge, until I wrap my arm around her waist and pick her up, hauling her away from the desk so she can’t reach anything else.

“You sick bastard. You’re toying with us! What kind of sick game are you playing?” Her tantrum continues, clawing at my arm, kicking me, but inside I know she is tiring. So, I hold her there, letting her wear herself out as the whiskey kicks in. It tingles my chest then relaxes me as she screams, and when she is spent, heaving and sobbing, I wrap my other arm around her waist and whisper in her ear.

“I’m not at all who you think I am, and if you let me, the monster can be your friend.”

“What do you think this is? Beauty and the Beast?” She scratches my arm again, and I spin her around to face me.

“I could have killed your brother that day, Nanette. When he didn’t have what I wanted, and he demanded to back out. I could have put that bullet into his head instead of the wall. You are the reason I didn’t.” She stills and looks up into my eyes. There is hatred there, but also lust. She is nearer to the center of power than she’s ever been, and I can see the desire in her eyes to conquer it, dominate me, manipulate me into revealing myself, but she’s already seen it—the beast in all its fury.

“The scar on your chest… Was it him?” she asks, voice shaking. She won’t look away, and I won’t respond. Instead, I kiss her, because it’s what she really wants, and because now that she’s seen me, there is no going back.

14

NANETTE

His kiss takes my breath away. It isn’t a kiss of anger; it’s different. It’s hungry and needy, not demanding. I kiss him back because I need to; I need release. I’m furious with him, terrified of who he really is, but this is my toxic trait. I have to take what he’s stolen from me, the power, the knowing. He won’t answer my question about the scar on his chest, but my gut tells me he got it trying to defend his mother, and now he wants revenge on the man who did it.

I want revenge too, the type that makes Gallagher drop to his knees and beg for mercy, the way I begged for mercy, the way Jimmy begged for mercy. But I’ll never even get justice, let alone revenge. Not with Gallagher. But men like Dominic are easier. Sex is their weakness, the way I conquer them and take my power back. They are all the same, chasing pussy and showing how vulnerable they are, and I give them what they want and when I’m done, I know I have the power to do that to them. All while making myself feel good too.

“God, you infuriate me,” I tell him as I tear at his shirt. His greedy hands pull at my clothing too, tugging my shorts until they tear at the waistband and slide down to my knees.

He’s greedy now, hands searching me as his lips devour mine. When his fingers touch my skin, it sends electric jolts through me. He presses his whole body against mine, grinding his erect cock against my belly and I shiver in response. He greedily thrusts himself against me, reaching under my shirt to slide his hands over my stomach then up to my tits. The sudden touch of his skin leaves me breathless, my heart pounding in my ears; I struggle to take deep breaths. My head is too full of faraway thoughts and lust-driven urges to breathe properly, which suits him fine because he just grinds himself against me and kisses me deeper.

I’m about to explode with passion. The way he’s pulling at my clothes sends tingling sensations throughout my skin, his strong hands pressing against my bare back. It makes me feel dizzy, trapped in this whirlwind of hunger and lust. His kiss turns even more forceful as I feel him unbuttoning his pants with a swift motion. My hands, too, are unable to stay still. I’m tugging at his pants, until they give way and fall in a pool of fabric around his ankles.

"Touch me,” he demands into my mouth. I grab hold of his girth and stroke it before lowering my mouth to tease the swollen head with my tongue. "I know you love this” he whispers as he pulls me tighter against him. I can feel his cock, deliciously huge and hard inside my throat. I move against it shamelessly, feeling him shudder as I use my whole mouth to glide over him.

When I glance up at him, his eyes are closed, and his mouth is slightly parted. I run the tip of my tongue up and down the length of him before swirling my tongue over his swollen head. I can feel his cock twitch wildly in my grip. "I love the way you feel inside my mouth,” I admit openly before taking him into my throat again. I nip at the head of his dick, and he grunts.

"Fuck,” he moans. I do it again, unbelievably excited by the way he’s sounding so turned on.

I moan in response, feeling my own need building between my legs. I will bring him to the edge, then withhold, because I need this power over him. It fixes something inside me when I do this, makes me feel strong. Gallagher took that power from me years ago and I've been doing this ever since, just to stay sane.

I feel his hands tangle down through my hair and come to a rest at the base of my neck as I use my lips to pleasure him. I can't describe the wickedness that comes over me when I look up at him and see the pleasure cross his face. With one hand under my chin, I hold him still while I move my mouth over his throbbing cock, letting its huge size push into the very back of my throat. His head slumps backward as he throws his hand up to fist his hair, moaning out in ecstasy.

"Fuck," he groans weakly before placing both his hands on either side of my head. He pushes me against himself again and again, so hard I can barely breathe. The air escapes from my lungs as I shudder from shock and pleasure, struggling to work with this building sensation.

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