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Talk about false advertising.
What I lack in skill, I’ll make up in pure determination, because one way or another, I’ll entice Daniil Kozlov to fall under my spell. Even if he currently considers me no better than gum stuck to the bottom of his shoe. Things were tense before the wedding, but something snapped when Daniil saw me with Jorge tonight. He mistook me being cornered by my ex for a cozy conversation.
Nothing could be further from the truth.
Jorge's fingers had dug into my wrists, holding me in place as he offered false congratulations. “Such a beautiful wedding,chica. And I have good news for you. Your uncle put me in charge of working with the Kozlovs, so I’ll be living in New York, too. And don’t worry, I’ll make sure to keep a close watch on you and your Russian trash.”
The fury I’d felt when Jorge grabbed me quickly transformed into fear. Instinctively, I sought out Daniil and found him across the room, his eyes flashing with violence. He had a pistol shoved into Jorge’s side before I could blink, and words of possession slipped from his lips.
Touch her again, and they’ll need dental records to ID your remains.
The thrill of his words sent shock waves to my core. I am his now. And that should scare me, not cause a little jolt of heat between my thighs. Because Daniil may want to possess me, but he also hates me.
“What are you doing?”
I spin at the sound of his voice, smooth and deep, coming from the doorway to the bedroom. He’s leaning against the wall, wearing his suit pants and a bare chest that served as a canvas to some needle-happy tattoo artist.Bratva membersoften have tattoos that tell a story, or at least the old-school members did. I don’t know what the swirl of colors covering his chest and arms represent, but I do know that no matter how much ink adorns his skin, there is no hiding the fact that his chest and upper body appear to be chiseled from rock.
I’m stuck in place, studying him like a mystery I can’t quite figure out. Yet I want to. I want to unravel him, discover what makes him tick, why he’s looking at me right now with hooded eyes, blazing over my exposed skin. It’s almost as if I can feel little sparks all over my body where his gaze lands. I grab onto that flare of lust and desire, and with a confidence I do not entirely feel, ask him, “Are you coming to bed?”
He swirls the ice cubes in his drink, then polishes off the rest of his whisky in a long gulp. When he looks back at me, the hunger in his eyes just a moment ago is snuffed out.
“You think you can handle me?” His voice has a mocking lilt to it. He abandons the glass on a side table, and stalks towards me. “You wouldn’t know what to do with my dick if I gave you an instruction manual.”
I don’t like the way he’s looking at me with a challenge in his eye. As if he’s testing if I have the guts to follow through on my invitation, calling my bluff only to remind me what a silly little girl I am. For that reason alone, I won’t let him win.
I reach my hand out, fingertips following the hard planes of his chest and abs, trailing lower to where a light dusting of hair is evident above his zipper, but he stops me, his large hand curling around my wrist.
He bends low, the tip of his nose nearly touching my own. “We’re not doing that, printsessa. Go to sleep,” he bites before turning away from me. I’ve been dismissed.
“A marriage is not legally binding until it’s consummated.” I’m proud my voice comes out strong and clear.
He stops in his tracks, his shoulders forming a tight line. Turning, a hiss of air whistles through his teeth. But I can’t back down now. He already thinks I’m a coward, and I won’t prove him right. He’s being purposefully cruel, attempting to scare me away, but his taunts only fuel my drive. I saunter towards him, reach down, and cup him through his trousers. I’m channeling some alternate-universe seductress, but part of me is reveling in this role. He feels impossibly hard, throbbing in my hand. Satisfaction pours through my veins as he releases an animalistic grunt.
“You can teach me,” I whisper.
His eyes drop to my lips. “I don’t fuck with virgins.”
“Well, seeing as I’m your wife, you have little choice.” His mouth thins, and I’m convinced he’s going to push me away yet again, so I reach up on tiptoes to run my tongue along the shell of his ear. “Show me what you like.”
I look up, our gazes colliding. Suddenly, I’m trapped in his very dark, very heavy stare. An energy spins between us, one that threatens to suck me in and never let me go, like a black hole. I could lose myself in this man. As it is, I can’t drag my eyes away from his blazing irises.
When I remain still, his lips curve into a sinister smile. “Now I’m good enough for you? Are you going to think of Jorge while I fuck you?”
“I… no.” The words stick in my throat, his jealousy catching me off guard.
He smirks, forcing the back of my legs against the bed. His big body crowds me, and it feels dangerous, being pushed up against the edge in more ways than one.
“Want to know what I’d like? You on your knees choking on my big cock, using those beautiful lips to suck me dry. Still interested?” he taunts, dragging a finger down my cheek.
My core jolts, I’m both turned-on and wary, but fear doesn’t serve me right now, so I stuff it down and put on a brave face. “Yes.”
His hands drop to my ass cheeks, kneading them as his hard cock grinds against the flesh of my stomach. “Fine, you want to play, little wifey. Let’s play.” He suddenly releases his hold on me. “Take everything off and get on your knees.”
His eyes light up when my tongue darts out to lick my dry lips. For a moment, I’m paralyzed in place, shocked at his sudden change in demeanor, but I brought this upon myself, so now I have to see it through.
Slipping the silky straps off my shoulders, I allow the bra to fall on the soft carpet, then peel my panties down my thighs. Earlier, I’d imagined myself posing seductively on the hotel bed in this fine French silk, now I nearly laugh at how different reality is from my stupid fantasy. The cool air causes my nipples to pucker, and his eyes linger, examining every inch of my body with unsettling interest. I use my arm to block my soft belly and heavy breasts. I’m proud of my figure, but I know I’m far from his ideal. He’s probably used to rail-thin supermodels and actresses, and I’m all soft curves and generous hips.
But judging by his heated stare, maybe he doesn’t mind after all. “Don’t you dare hide yourself from me,” he growls, drinking me in. “Every inch of you is perfect, and every inch of you is mine. Now… Get. On. Your. Knees.”
