Cruel Paradise (Oryolov Bratva Book 1)

I’m high on adrenaline when I get back to the city in time for tonight’s meeting. But Emma is chewing on her bottom lip as we enter the penthouse. Instead of looking excited or nervous with anticipation for the night ahead of us, the way she did before, she seems… complacent. Resigned. Like she’s just here to work.

Then again, I suppose to her, this is work.

I’m suddenly not sure how I feel about that.

My hands clench as I walk toward the bar. “Drink?”

She blinks at me, her face still devoid of any genuine interest. “I shouldn’t.”

“Why not?”

Her jaw flexes and the vein in her forehead thrums softly. “Tomorrow’s a workday.”

“I’ll put in a good word with your boss,” I drawl sarcastically as I pour the drink anyway.

She accepts it hesitantly, her gaze sliding over to the windows. Her shoulders are tense. It’s as if she’s been holding her breath for far too long and she’s afraid to start inhaling again. We stand there in silence for a while, but it doesn’t seem to matter how many sips of her drink she takes—she’s still stiff as a board.

A gentleman would excuse her tonight. Send her home early so that she can get a good night’s sleep.

Too bad I’m the farthest fucking thing from a gentleman.

“It is beautiful up here,” she observes. “So quiet.”

I take the half-empty glass out of her hand and set it down on the marble side table next to the sofa. “It won’t be for long.”

She blushes. It reminds me of the first night we spent together. She was shy and unsure then, too, constantly blushing and glancing away from me to focus on the twinkling city lights.

But this isn’t actual shyness holding her back. Is it discomfort, maybe? Wariness? Uncertainty? I’ve been so focused on making sure she doesn’t get too close to me that it had never even occurred to me that she might be worried about the same damn thing.

For tonight, though, I want to make her forget everything. Her problems, her brother-in-law, her dead sister. Most of all, her own inhibitions. I want to chip away at the walls she’s built around herself until she can’t feel anything but pleasure.

I have a plan for exactly how to do that, too: I’m gonna give her so many orgasms that she’ll forget her own name and only scream mine.

I glance down below my belt. Just like that, I’ve worked myself into the hardest erection of my life.

“Come here,” I growl.

She turns to me and softly pads her bare feet across the floor, what little distance there is between us. She stops a few inches away. Still too far for my liking.

“Come here,” I repeat, doing my best to resist the playful smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. Even in her current state, she’s still so deliciously stubborn.

She takes another quarter-step forward. My gaze drops to her collarbone, then to the dip of her neckline. She’s wearing a jade-green blouse today and it’s doing wonders for those blue eyes of hers.

I caress the back of my hand along her jaw. Then down to the buttons of her blouse. She sucks in a breath and that delicate pink blush spreads to the tops of her breasts.

I tilt her chin up with my other hand to make sure she looks me in the eyes. I want her full attention and I’m going to get it one way or another.

Starting with ripping her blouse open.

Buttons scatter across the floor, not that I give a shit. I’ll buy her a new shirt if I have to, as long as she keeps looking at me like she is now while I toss her scrap of a shirt aside.

She’s definitely not tired anymore.

I pull her even closer to me until there’s no space at all between us. I love the way she gasps when I manhandle her. When I smooth my hands up along the curve of her back, she shivers and presses herself into me.

Goddamn, her plump lips are so tempting. I can practically taste her as I flick the clasps of her bra open and let the straps slide down her arms until it falls to the floor.

I turn her around and unzip the skirt she’s wearing, and again, I’m tempted to devour her creamy skin, starting with the curve of her neck. But I’m quickly distracted by the other curves of her body. She’s wearing panties in the same shade of green as her blouse. They’re modest, nothing skimpy, but for whatever reason, that’s ten times hotter than if she’d been wearing the skinniest dental floss thong known to man.

I’m tempted to leave them on her. But I want her bare. Warm, bare, and mine.

I circle her like a caged beast, trying to figure out where to take my first bite. So many options.

That juicy ass.

Those perky breasts.

Her dripping wet pussy.

Fuck yes.

I hook my fingers in the waistband of her panties and drag them down as I kneel in front of her. The silky fabric clings to her mound, and it’s all I can do to not immediately dive between those thighs like a starving man. I drape her leg over my shoulder and breathe her in. Fuck.

When I slide my tongue over her slit, she shudders, her fingers gripping my hair. “Ruslan…”

Her moan snaps the last string on my self-control. Grabbing her ass, I pull her sweet slit against my mouth and start eating her out. I lick, suck, and fondle every delicious fucking inch between her juicy thighs, milking out what I’m determined is going to be the first of many orgasms tonight.

Emma’s legs are already shaking desperately, her fluttering little gasps turning into throaty moans.

“Fuck, Ruslan!” she mewls as her fingers tug harder on my hair.

I don’t go easy on her. I tongue the orgasm out of her until her body collapses into me. Then I wrap my arms around her legs and hoist her over my shoulder, carrying her to the massive dining table that I don’t think I’ve ever used.

Guess I was just waiting for a special occasion. This certainly qualifies.

I drop her down on the table and her eyes widen with surprise. “Ruslan! Not here!”

“Why the fuck not?”

“Because… because people eat here.”

Adorable. By the end of tonight, she’s not going to give a damn about anything other than trying to walk. I doubt she’ll be able to do even that.

“Are you saying you’re on the menu, kiska?”

She flushes bright red. “No—that’s not what I—ah!”

I grab her legs and pull her forward so her back slides along the table. Emma leans up on her elbows as I free my cock and line it up with her slit.

“Unless you’re hungry, too?” I tease her as I rub her clit with the tip. “I’d be more than happy to fill your mouth, your throat…”

She bites down on her bottom lip as I tease her, sliding my cock against her wetness, pushing in just enough to give her a taste of what’s to come. Her breasts quiver and those peaked nipples of hers are making my mouth salivate all over again.

A new idea flashes through my mind: spinning her around so I can push those breasts together and fuck my cock between them.

But as much as I want to erupt all over her cleavage, I have a goal tonight. I need her to let go. I need her to forget everything and everyone—except me.

“R-Ruslan,” she moans. “Fuck me… oh, God… just fuck me…”

I smirk. “Since you asked so nicely…”

Her eyes flare and she trails her tongue over her bottom lip. I don’t look away when I slide inside her to the hilt.

She is so fucking wet.

My balls are ready to burst, but I push back the desire and concentrate on her. I grab her hips and start thrusting into her, mesmerized by the way her tits bounce. Even when she starts bucking and sobbing my name in broken, desperate syllables, I don’t let up. I don’t slow down. I don’t go easy on her. I fuck her like a man possessed.

Arms flexing. Jaw clenching. Hips jerking. Sweat drips off my skin onto hers and with it, my own stress starts to melt away.

Her palms slam against the cool teak as she begs between cries. “Ruslan, fuck…! I can’t… I can’t take it anymore… please… yes, yes, YES!”

“Take it,” I snarl between thrusts. “Take it, baby.”

Her nails dig into my forearms and sharp stings of pain run up my arms as she applies pressure. It feels incredible. “That’s it, kiska,” I grunt. “Come for me… come on my cock… yeah, that’s it baby…”

Her back arches, her lashes flutter, and her pussy convulses around my dick. Little crystal beads of sweat form between her breasts. I lean down, still buried to the balls inside her, and lick them off. She tastes every bit as good as she smells.

Citrus and sweat. And something else… oaky, spicy vanilla. My scent.

I like that a little too much.

I’m still hard when I pull out of her. Her eyes are closed, her chest rising and falling rapidly. I grab her legs again and hook them around my waist, using the leverage to carry her off the table. She instantly wraps herself around me, nestling her head on my shoulder, her body still trembling from her release.

Does that make me feel strong, powerful, really fucking entitled?

Absolutely.

Having her at my mercy makes me feel like the only real man who’s ever lived.

“Ruslan…” she whispers. Her voice is unsteady and so, it seems, are her legs. “I don’t think I can walk.”

“You want my help? Then you’re gonna have to earn it.”

I have just enough time to see her eyes flicker with alarm before I twist her around and press her up against one of the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. Goosebumps race across her smooth skin as she trembles. And when I rub a possessive hand over the curve of her ass, she stiffens. “Y-you’re gonna punish me again?”

I smile, adding a squeeze to the rub. “No, baby. You’ve been a good girl today, so you’ve earned a reward.”

She moans. “I don’t think I can take another orgasm.”

I shake my head and nip her shoulder. “Unfortunately, that’s not up to you.”

Her body arches so fucking beautifully when I push into her. The way she immediately pushes her hips back and her ass up, spreading her legs wide… I probably have ten thrusts left in me at most, but I grit my teeth and force myself to keep going. The need to come is buried under the need to make her finish first.

I slide a hand around her neck and pull her up against my chest. Wrapping my arms around her, I grab a handful of those breasts and rock into her, making every hard thrust count. I can feel the vibration travel up my body before it’s lost in hers. It’s addictive.

Emma has completely surrendered herself to me, her body moving only where I allow it. She’s just this side of limp in my arms, writhing only when I tease her nipples and slide a hand down her stomach to rub her clit in small circles.

I tongue the inside of her ear and she cranes her head back against my shoulder. “Fuuuck, Ruslan,” she moans desperately. “I-I can’t… I’m gonna…!”

And when she does, I explode inside her, reveling in the triumph of her body milking me into her.

When it’s finished, she melts back against me, her legs officially limp, her body turning to putty. I pick her up again and carry her to the sofa.

“God,” she sighs, rubbing her hands against the upholstery. “I can’t feel… anything…”

Good.

“I’ll get us some water.”

It’s amazing how satisfied I feel after my nights with Emma. It’s not something I’ve ever experienced before. The revolving door kept spinning and women came—literally—and went. But none of them ever made an impression. Not even while I was inside them.

I stop short when I approach the couch with two glasses of water in hand. Emma is sprawled out across the cushions, fast asleep.

I set the glasses down and watch her for a few moments.

I should wake her.

I will wake her.

But maybe… not right away.

I end up on the loveseat facing her, staring at the way her breasts tremble with every breath she takes. She looks so damn peaceful that even an hour later, I can’t bring myself to wake her. Instead, I carry her tenderly into my room and settle her on one side of the bed.

This bed has seen a lot of things, none of which involved sleep. That realization sends a little chill up my spine. But it’s still not enough to convince me to wake her.

Mainly because that chill isn’t exactly bad, per se.

I take the armchair by the window, but at no point do I actually appreciate the view of the city. I’m focused on the view of Emma in my bed.

I watch her for so long that my dilemma doesn’t become obvious until long after the moon has risen. It’s not that I don’t want to wake her up.

I just don’t want her to leave.

The way she writhed on my cock; the way she screamed my name… I thought I’d done what I set out to do tonight. But watching her asleep in my bed, it hits me—

This victory may not be mine at all.