Cruel Paradise (Oryolov Bratva Book 1)

What did I come in here for?

Oh, that’s right—a last-minute appointment reschedule.

I can’t really remember who I was supposed to reschedule. I can barely hear myself think above the sound of Ruslan’s hips slamming hard against my ass as he fucks me for the fourth time today.

I’m just gonna say it: the sex is getting out of hand.

Which would be terrible if I didn’t enjoy it so damn much.

But really, it’s actually interfering with work now. Even my body has gotten conditioned to the new status quo at the office these days. Every time Ruslan asks for me, my pussy starts throbbing and I get wet. Half the time, I don’t even know what he wants. Doesn’t matter—I get wet anyway.

Of course, more often than not, even if it starts off as work, it ends up as sex.

In his chair.

Against his desk.

Up against the windows.

And it’s not just at work, either. If we’re not having sex at the penthouse, he sneaks into my apartment after the kids have gone to bed. He has to fuck me with his hand over my mouth because, as we’ve established before, I’m a screamer.

We almost got caught last weekend when Reagan had a bad dream and tried to inch into my room. Thankfully, I’d had the foresight to lock my door. Ruslan hid in my bathroom while Reagan crawled into my bed with a disgruntled look.

“Why was your door locked?”

“Um, I must’ve locked it by mistake, honey. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t do it again,” she warned me solemnly with her eyebrows all scrunched up.

We laughed about that the next day—right before Ruslan forced me to my knees and made me swallow his cock. Of course, he’d followed that up by coming inside me. Because all sex now involves him coming inside me.

He is a caveman about it, too. If I so much as reach for a tissue, he gives me a stern glare and forces me to put my panties on instead.

“You can walk around all day with my cum dripping down your thighs. Don’t worry about cleaning up—I’ll lick you dry later.”

With a promise like that, how could I not listen?

As far as downsides, they’re not nonexistent. As intoxicatingly, deliciously, amazingly exciting as all the sex is, my pussy is always sore. Come to think of it, all of me is sore all the time now.

Ah, the perils of a healthy sex life.

Phoebe would be so proud—that is, if she knew just how much sex Ruslan and I were having. The thing is, I didn’t want to tell her the contractual reason we are having so much sex, so it’s been simpler not to mention anything at all.

Simpler—though not easier.

Ruslan collects my hair into a loose ponytail and pulls hard as he starts thrusting even harder. I’m biting down on the heel of his palm, trying to keep the screams from alerting the entire floor of our new addiction. But when he gets that Neanderthal gleam in his eye and revs up the speed to maximum intensity, all self-control goes out the window.

I spasm forward as a fresh orgasm rockets through me, upending a stack of paperwork that I spent all morning on. I’m gonna be pissed about that later, but right now, I couldn’t care less—he just keeps ramming into me, his breaths getting shorter and shorter as we both reach our final peak.

Just when I see little blue stars pop up in front of my dizzy eyes, I feel him release, filling me with his hot cum.

Wonder if we made a baby this time…

Then again, I’ve been thinking that every time we’ve slept together the last few weeks. He straightens up and passes me my panties.

I can already feel the cum drip down my thighs but I ignore the tissue box and slide my panties on.

“People are gonna wonder why I smell like you all the time.”

Ruslan rounds the table and starts picking up the papers I upended. “If they have to wonder, they’re fucking stupid. It’s obvious.”

“Obvious to who?” I balk.

Ruslan smirks. “You’ve never spent this much time in my office, Ms. Carson.”

“Oh, God. I’m the whore of Bane Corp. The Hester Prynne of New York City. Might as well get a scarlet A embroidered on all my blouses.”

Ruslan just chuckles. “Red does look good on you.”

I launch a paper clip at him. “Not funny.”

Still laughing, he steps over and smooths a wayward hair out of my face with a tender stroke of his fingers. “Who cares what people are saying, kiska? No one knows about the contract and that’s all that matters. And anyway, you’ll be pregnant with my baby soon. If they haven’t figured it out by now, that’ll certainly do the trick.”

My mouth drops. “I hadn’t thought about that.”

“Well, you’ve been distracted lately.”

I roll my eyes while trying to suppress a smile. Then I gather up the schedule I brought in here, which is now ripped down the middle thanks to the way Ruslan grabbed me the second I walked in and bent me over his desk.

“I’ll go print out another one of these.”

Knock, knock, knock.

I glance towards the door. It’s a very pointed knock. Also a very familiar one. Kirill has made more than one joke about wearing a bell on a collar around his neck so we can hear him coming.

“Come in,” Ruslan calls.

Kirill walks in, stops at Ruslan’s desk, and glares at the two of us, knowing without having to ask what just happened. “For fuck’s sake.” He wrinkles his nose. “Again?”

Ruslan just chuckles and dismisses me with a wink and a nod. I hurry out, doing my best to hide the blush on my cheeks.

I’m not at my desk ten minutes before my phone pings.

RUSLAN: I’ve got a club event to go to next week. I need a plus-one.

EMMA: And you want me to go with you?

RUSLAN: Yes.

EMMA: And just so we’re clear—I’d be your date. Your only date.

RUSLAN: That is correct, Ms. Carson.

It is extremely hard not to go straight into my happy dance. But a few junior execs are milling around right now and I don’t need people gossiping about me any more than they already are. So I suppress the excited butterflies fluttering around in my stomach and focus on my phone

EMMA: Hm. I’ll think about it.

RUSLAN: Wanna come back in here so I can help you think about it?

EMMA: You are an animal!

RUSLAN: Don’t you forget it.

EMMA: Fine. I’ll go.

RUSLAN: That’s what I thought.

Look at us, flirting and everything. Like a normal couple. It’s enough to make me giddy. These last couple of weeks have me in a constant good mood. So good that I can’t help thinking the same question that inevitably crops up whenever life happens to look this beautiful for any stretch of time.

When will the other shoe drop?