The Enforcer (Chicago Bratva 3)

Always, I want to say. I settle for humming some more.

“Does that mean always?” She reads my mind.

I nod and turn to kiss the top of her head. In the back corner, I tip her to her feet and crowd my body against hers, shielding her from view from the rest of the bar. I point at her chest, then at mine.

Her smile flickers. There’s still sadness around her. “I belong to you?”

I nod then reverse the order.

“You belong to me.”

I nod again.

“Can I move in with you?”

A smile surprises my inexpressive face with its sudden appearance.

“Damn.” She reaches up to place her palm against my cheek. “You are so handsome when you smile.”

My smile widens.

“I’m sorry. I got scared.”

I shake my head and point at myself, then give the sign for sorry.

“I know you’re sorry. You never meant to hurt me. You were trying to take care of me.”

I nod.

“I can’t promise I won’t freak out again.”

I shake my head. I won’t let you, I want to say. I point at my chest, then shake my head as I point out the door.

“You won’t go?”

I nod.

“Never?”

I shake my head emphatically.

“You’re mine?”

There’s that smile again. My facial muscles will have to adjust to the new sensation.

“I love you.”

I move in slowly, savoring every precious moment as I sip from her lips, gently at first, then moving into a possessive, claiming kiss.

Story relaxes more and more, the tension and cloud around her ebbing away.

I crook my finger, backing up a few steps to pull out a chair. Story immediately crawls into my lap, where she belongs.

Chapter 17

Story

“Catch me if you can!” I squeal the minute we climb out of the elevator at the Kremlin after my show. I take off running toward the door that leads to the roof.

I hear Oleg’s soft chuckle right behind me, but he lets me pretend I’m getting away as I run up the stairs to the gorgeous rooftop pool. The air is freezing, and steam comes off the hot tub when I roll the cover up.

“Last one in is a rotten egg.” I take off my clothes, giggling.

Oleg doesn’t rush. He slowly strips, watching me with total absorption as I drop my coat, boots, tights, skirt, shirt, bra and panties onto the pebbled deck.

I jump in before I get cold and bob up and down, bouncing on my feet, making the water splash around my breasts as they dip in and out of the surface.

Oleg finishes undressing, looking like a stallion with a boner the size of my forearm. I splash him.

His eyes crinkle. He arches a brow and points a finger.

“Uh oh.” I smile. “Is Big Daddy going to spank me?”

Pretty please.

I found out his other pet name for me—shalun’ya—means bad girl or minx, which I love. He descends into the water, standing on the first step, then sitting on the pool deck. His brows flick as he reaches for me.

Oh God.

He is going to spank me. I get fluttery and excited and a tiny bit nervous, only because last time it hurt almost as much as it felt good.

He parts his knees and pulls me across one of them, tipping me over so my hands rest on the pool deck behind him.

I let out a quavering meep.

He hums softly then smacks my wet ass.

“Ow! Oh my God, that hurts.”

Another smack, served with a dark chuckle. I dance on my feet, thrilled. Horny. Smarting. He rubs my ass, then slides his fingers between my legs. I wriggle with the shock of sensation when his fingers brush my most sensitive bits. He delivers two more swift smacks then rubs some more.

Oh God, it’s good.

So exciting. Delicious. The sharpness of the initial pain recedes as pleasure flushes through me. I don’t know why I like this. It doesn’t matter. It’s Oleg, and I trust him completely.

He goes on for a few more rounds—a couple smacks, then his middle finger circling over my clit. My arousal ramps up swiftly. “More,” I moan, even though my ass already stings.

Of course, he delivers, slapping me with seven rapid-fire spanks that make me squeal and kick my feet. And then we’re suddenly both immersed in the water, warmth burning over the winter chill on my skin. Oleg pinches one nipple as he curls an arm behind my back and draws my body against his. I wrap my legs around his waist. He uses his hand to angle his cock to prod my entrance.

The water and weightlessness make it slippery and hard for him to get in, and a few moments later, I find myself on my knees on the step, my elbows on a cushion from a nearby chaise lounge, and Oleg pounding into me from behind. He grips my hair in his fist disrespectfully, and I love it. I love it because I know this man is the farthest thing from disrespectful outside of the bedroom. He’s the safest scary I’ll ever find, and I find his power and dominance delicious.