Page 13 of Her Russian Master
She gasped and squeezed her cheeks together, as if to force him out.
“That’s right, beautiful girl.You will get your ass fucked by me.Maybe with my thumb.Maybe my cock.Maybe I will make you wear a plug to remind you not to make the Russian mad.”His middle finger strayed between her legs, brushing over her juicy pussy.
She gave a little mewl, humping his lap.
He squeezed and kneaded her ass.
“You’re crazy,” she panted.
“True.”
She rolled her shoulders slightly on the bed, twisting to look back at him.“It’s mostly an act though.Right, Yuri?”
His breath stalled in his chest with shock.
The only other person who ever saw past the crazy Russian act was his mentor, Leo.The man who’d tried to rescue him frommafiyamadness.That the woman he’d give anything for had also seen the real him made his chest feel like it would explode.Not evenheknew who the real him was.
Still, he deflected.“Don’t count on it.”He stroked her ass, dragging his palm down toward her thigh like smoothing feathers.“You’re not afraid of me, are yousolnishko?”
It didn’t matter what she said.He knew she wasn’t.She lay relaxed over his lap, glowing in a post-orgasmic languor that she’d lethimgive to her.Even so, a surge of satisfaction shuddered through him when she shook her head.
He squeezed her butt cheek roughly.“Iamcrazy,solnishko.Crazy for you.”
He watched her brow furrow, as if the reality of her position had seeped back into her consciousness.“What’s going to happen to Jake, Yuri?”
His mouth tightened as he lifted her back to sitting.“Hopefully, Jake will produce the money he owes Don Diego.”
“It was stolen.He told me the drugs were stolen and that’s why he doesn’t have it.”
Yuri had already figured it was something like that.Guys with half a brain don’t stiff the don unless they really can’t help it.“He needs to make contact with us.Give us an update on how he plans to repay the money.If he doesn’t, bad things are supposed to happen to you.”
She moistened her dry lips with her tongue and he scrambled up to find her some water, cursing himself for not taking better care of her basic needs.“But you’re not going to let them.”She said it like a statement, not a question.
Her seeming faith made his chest fill with a foreign feeling—pride.He held a bottle of water to her lips and waited while she sipped.“That’s right.”
She searched his face, as if trying to determine whether to believe him.He did his best to give her his most solemn, trustworthy expression.
“How does a Russian end up with the Italian mob?”
He shrugged.“La Famigliais no different than Russianmafiya.”
“So, you used to be in the Russianmafiya?”
He blinked, not wanting to offer her any piece of his jagged past.“Da.”
“In Russia?”
“Da.”He wound a loop of duct tape around her bound wrists and secured her to the headboard.“Don’t move.”
“That’s really funny, asshole.”
He gave her ass a slap—no, less a slap than a tap—symbolic rather than pain-inducing.“Watch your mouth.”He headed toward the suite for some food.
“Or what?”she called after him.
He stopped and looked back at her, forcing back the smile that had automatically sprung to his lips when he’d realized she was flirting again.“I will peel those cheeks apart and fuck your ass.”
Her squirm made the threat worth it.She squeezed her ass cheeks and thrashed her legs on the bed, which made his cock lean heavily against his zipper, eager for another round.He watched her long enough to produce a lovely blush, then withdrew to the living room for the food he’d ordered.
