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“It’s because they’re fun to play with. Since I’m not going to be able to satisfy my hungry little slut the way her hot, wet cunt needs”—I have to be messed up for my panties to be soaked at his words—“I got this for now. And believe me, we’ll use it later.” He’s down on his knees, taking the box from my hands, he opens it. “I took the liberty of charging these earlier.”
I watch as his long, thick fingers handle the small bullet-shaped pink toy. The sight of Aleksander Levin, proud, gorgeous, on his knees is wrong to me. Even on his knees he is more regal than any one person should be.
He holds up the bullet to me. I slide down the couch, opening my legs to him. One side of his beautifully molded lips goes up. Wicked, oh it’s so very wicked as he slowly slides the hem of the dress up my legs to over the silky boxers. Those golden eyes linger over me, he sucks on his bottom lip.
“Fuck silk and lace. You wearing my things is so fucking sexy. I don’t even like taking them off.” The words are a low growl from his chest as he tugs the boxers off me.
“So fucking delicious.” Gold flares beneath heavy eyelids as he runs a finger over the slick heart of me. Pride fills me as he sucks on his finger with pleasure. “My darling wife has the tastiest cunt.”
My head goes back, as he pushes the toy inside me. Oh, it’s smaller than him yet my body doesn’t like it. His fingers linger before bringing them to his mouth. He sucks on them and deep within me I clench tight around the toy.
“Talk to me,zhena,” he murmurs low as he draws the silky boxers up my legs.
The man doesn’t miss a single thing. “I don’t like that it isn’t you,” I admit.
An eyebrow goes up. “As soon as I can be inside you, I will be.” It’s a promise. Bending down, he presses a kiss to my mons. I’m already on edge when the toy buzzes deep inside me, shocking me. He licks his lips with a wicked smile. “Come along. We’ll have breakfast at Kotyonok. Chef does an amazing eggs benedict.”
I take the strong hand he offers me. Pulling me up with one hand, the other goes to my back, pressing me against him. Trying to distract myself from his hard body against mine and the toy inside me. “I didn’t realize the restaurant was open for breakfast.”
“Only on the weekends for customers. We’re not customers.” He nods at David. “The car is waiting?” It’s not really a question. David nods regardless.
Going down in the elevator, the air feels thick. I catch David staring at Aleksander in the mirrored door.
An alert sounds. Aleksander checks his phone. Whatever he sees angers him. “I told you to stay the fuck out of the cameras.”
David starts speaking Russian, obviously defending himself.
Anger fills the elevator. Aleksander responds in icy Russian. I don’t need to speak the language to hear the lethal threat in the words. David is frozen from the ice in Aleksander. He becomes almost beseeching but Aleksander ignores him. When we exit the elevator David remains behind.
The SUV is waiting with the back door open. Aleksander picks me up to put me in the high seat. I scoot over so he doesn’t have to go around to the busy street. He gets in and nods at me. “Seat belt.” It’s an order.
I click the seat belt fastened. “What’s going on with you and David?”
He’s quiet for a moment, and before he can answer his phone goes off with a text. Checking it, he’s pleased. “The shopper confirmed. Milos recommends her. She’s excellent and selective about who she works with. I found out she has a soft spot for a charity and made a sizeable donation.”
“When did you learn money was all you needed to make up for being bad?” Once again the words are out before I think of them.
His laughter fills the back of the SUV. It’s the last thing I expect. “I was twelve. I paid Damien not to tell our mother that I destroyed his school project as payback when I thought he stole something from me, when actually it was Maxim. He took the money even though it would mean he would fail. Of course he didn’t fail because he talked his way out of turning it in when it was due and instead got another week to complete it.”
“What was it like growing up with so many brothers?” I hate that I’m wistful at the idea of not being alone. Refusing to think of the years when I begged for a baby sister before my mother left.
“It was loud, it was hectic, I was never lonely and sometimes all I wanted was to be alone. Yet they are not just my brothers, they are my best friends. There is no competition among us, only love. My father wanted us to be a family business in every sense of the word. One thing I need to make sure you understand as you consider if you want children or not: our male children will be expected to continue as Bratva. Their life will not be their own.”
Turning over the caution in his words, something niggles at me and has me staring up at him. “You didn’t have a choice to be…”
“I had a choice: leave my family or stay. While we speak of it in terms of a business, I believe Milos said it best: the best way to keep it and everyone together is to treat it like a religion.” He’s thoughtful, not at all as resentful as I would be…as I feel right now over being forced into a life I didn’t choose.
“Religion?”
“Proverbs chapter twenty-two verse six: Train up a child in the way he should go: and when he is old, he will not depart from it,” he quotes. “From the time I was a child my identity was Bratva. We saw it as no different than someone who identified as Catholic, or Jewish. We were different from others, a part of something bigger than ourselves. Not only would we be a part of it, we would rule it. My father and grandfather declared it was to be put above all else, even ourselves. My father spoke of it in general terms while also saying those who weren’t bratva weren’t as good as us, nor should we talk about it outside of the family to prevent jealousy of others.”
I’m beginning to understand what Aleksander meant, how the things that turned me on weren’t of my own making. From the time he was a child his father groomed him too. “How old were you when you really understood, what it all was?”
“I was eleven when my grandfather killed someone in front of me.” I gasp, he shakes his head. “I wasn’t supposed to be there. I knew we were bratva since I knew my name. My father told me he would include me in business at twelve, the same age as Milos. Still, he had no plans for me to learn of death and killing so young. I was ill, a fever. My father picked me up from school and took me to the bratva doctor for him to look me over. While we were waiting for the strep culture, some of our men brought in a bleeding man. They barely settled the man on the table when my grandfather entered the room and shot the man on the table in front of me.”
“Oh my god.” I can’t believe it.
“My father wasn’t happy. My grandfather was pissed my father waited until we were twelve to show us everything.”
