Page 33 of Her Vicious Angel

He had begun to nuzzle my neck, but he stopped for a moment.

“I appreciate your vote of confidence, Cerise. But if I hadn’t been engaged in my. . . proclivity they wouldn’t have tried to attack me. My father likes to run our business with a minimum of attention and not have to cover up for a bunch of bodies.”

“And are you planning to involvemein this mysterious proclivity?” I asked.

He paused again, and I could feel his fingers tightening on my hairline, then curling in my wet hair to pull me closer to him.

“No,” he said shortly. “I am not. Now finish up and go to the bed.”

I was still rubbing my hair dry when he tossed me onto the bed.

“You can’t shake that ass at me and make me wait.”

“You wantmore?” I asked.

“Oh yes, Cerise,” he said. “I am going to ride and fuck and fill you as much as I want to.”

He was suddenly on top of me, pinning me with his legs, and he trapped my hands above my head.

“Because you are mine,” he said. “Don’t forget it.”

“I’m sore,” I said as my heart started to beat faster at the feeling of his strong arms trapping my hands. I could feel my nipples hardening as my body arched from the bed. It felt so wrong to love how his harsh hands could overpower and master me. I put one ankle around the other so my legs were glued tight together.

His eyes burned at me as he looked at my naked body greedily.

“Good,” he said. “I want to mark up every inch of your body so that everyone who looks at you can see that you aremine.”

He didn’t even bother spreading my legs, just positioned his big cock at my entrance, forcing it in past my sore lips, past my crossed legs, past my reason and my logic, and before he was even all the way in I was wrapping my legs around him, craving him, needing his darkness, loving his every rough touch.

17

CERISE

There was a painfully bright January sun the next morning, and we were awoken by an imperious knock at the hotel door. Then the man who had brought me to Russia to marry Andrei entered our room.

Grigoriy Ivanovich Petrovic. ThePakhan, the boss of the entire Ballet Bratva.

While Andrei was tall, broad-shouldered, but with lean corded muscles, his father was built like a railroad car. He looked to be in his early 50s, with a thick head of white hair and a salt and pepper beard. He was flanked by several men I knew would be his personal guards.

I sat up with a jerk, pulling the covers up over my naked body.

Andrei had put one arm in front of me, and my heart began to beat faster as I wondered if his unconscious instinct had been to protect me.

“Ah, father,” said Andrei. “Come to check up on the wife you arranged for me?”

Grigoriy Ivanovich Petrovic smiled, and it was surprisingly warm. I was very curious about the man who had been a doctor and was now the boss of a Mafia organization. However, I knew that anyone capable of keeping his Bratva in line, and even expanding their territory, must be a very dangerous person, even though he looked like someone who actually had manners. Unlike his son.

“I wanted to see what kind of woman could keep my son away from his clubs and waking up like apozhiloy chelovek.”

Andrei ignored this. “You don’t have the power to make me marry.”

Grigoriy raised his eyebrows. “You seem to be enjoying the wife I got for you.”

They switched to Russian then.

I tried to get out of bed inconspicuously while they were arguing, to put on some damn pants at least, but Andrei’s father was as sharp-eyed as he was.

“What’s that on you, child? Come here.”

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