Prisoner (Russian Tattoos Book 2) (15 page)

Chapter 21

Sandwiched

When we got back from our walk, Vladimir and his men attended to business. Waves of rough-looking guys in suits with tattooed hands cruised in and out of the house. Vladimir was in boss-mode as he gave orders to the frightening crew of the Ivanov
Bratva
. Vladimir was the natural leader of his men, but Boris, Pasha, and a few more key players held important roles in keeping the family business thriving.

They worked together as a team, each man seemingly managing different aspects of the business. With his expertise in running the books, Pasha was probably in charge of laundering the dirty money and handling the financials. A tough-looking bald dude with a pointy nose, a patch over his left eye, and deep scar across his neck seemed more suited to handle the more traditional interests of the
Bratva
enterprise.

I could see why things got off kilter when Vladimir dragged Boris away from the family to spend time with me in America. This was no small operation. There were at least a hundred guys, high-ranking men they trusted to enter their home, who passed through their doors that morning. There had to be hundreds more on security detail and scores of lower-ranking guys who did their dirty work.

That was a lot of people depending on the
pakhan
to keep the business thriving, and a lot of people who would gain or lose if the Ovechkins succeeded with their assassination attempt. Vladimir’s family despised me. They blamed me for all their troubles. Seeing how the family relied on one another, I got it. I’d hate me too.

While the men handled their business, Anya had been charged with throwing together our impromptu wedding in less than twenty-four hours. The plan was for the ceremony to take place here in the back yard, and the reception would be held at Vladimir’s nightclub. They were going to a lot of trouble to make our wedding seem real. I could not comprehend how this was going to end well, but Boris was the mastermind of our security, so I trusted he would keep us safe.

The first order of business was my wedding gown.

To say the dress Vladimir picked out for me was simply breathtaking would be about as accurate as describing Marilyn Monroe as somewhat attractive. The top was comprised of layers of cascading chiffon roses that accentuated my breasts, and the flower stems curved down a sheer bodice that exposed my skin. The skirt was light and fluffy with flirty layers, making it the perfect combination of sexy and sweet—the way I imagined Vladimir thought of me.

The seamstress pinned in the alterations, and while my entourage fussed over my gown, Anya stationed herself on a red velvet loveseat in the corner of the guestroom and supervised the hired help. She didn’t interact with me or even glance in my direction the entire time. Instead, she busied herself hand-stitching a face on a yellow-haired doll. Her distaste for me bordered on comical. By the way she was stabbing the needle into that doll’s face, it seemed she was hexing me with every pinprick, abusing it like a blonde voodoo doll that represented me.

The seamstress had me standing on a chair for what felt like an eternity so her team could alter the hem. When the length was pinned, the ladies helped me step out of the dress. As I stood there in a strapless bra, underwear, and stilettos, Vladimir tapped on the door and stepped into the bedroom wearing nothing but a towel.

“Looks like I might be overdressed.” He twisted his lips into a naughty grin and planted his hand on the towel, threatening to remove it.

Anya huffed, whizzed the doll at him, and chastised him in Russian. My gangly representative bounced off Vladimir, crashed into the nightstand, and crumbled on the floor in a heap. I flipped my hair forward to cover my breasts and shielded my body with my hands.

“Nice timing, babe.” My belly fluttered, turned on by playfulness. His “I don’t give a shit what anyone thinks” attitude lit my fire, and his hungry bedroom eyes made me want to leap off the chair and tackle him on the bed. I’d been waiting for an opportunity to be alone with him, but it didn’t appear we would ever have a moment to ourselves with all the commotion in the house.

Vladimir admired my legs and motioned for me to turn around so he could get a look at my backside. I shook my head and tried to blink away my embarrassment. “I’m going to get dressed now.”

“
Nyet
. Your attire is perfect for something else I want to do with you.”

Anya’s jaw dropped. “Show respect for your bride, Vladimir.”

“
Izvinite
, Mama. I apologize for my poor choice of words.” He picked the doll off the floor and handed it back to her. “I was referring to the
banya
, of course.” His adorable smile softened her rage and she went back to stabbing the doll.

She could pretend to be mad at him, but Vladimir could do no wrong in her eyes. He helped me down from the chair and opened one of the dresser drawers. He reached inside and pulled out a handful of strings attached to a few metallic gold triangles—a skimpy bikini.

I went into the bathroom, changed into the suit, and slipped on a robe to make a quick getaway, but before we made it outside, Babushka waved a spoon and hollered at Vladimir. She pushed a plate of creamy white cake into his hand, and he accepted it appreciatively.

We walked to the bathhouse and he led me inside. There was an indoor pool, a shower, dressing room, and a steamy room with a glass door that must be the
banya
. Vladimir paused before leading me into the sauna to take a bite of cake. He scooped a bite into his mouth and let out a long
mmm
sound. “Want a taste?” he asked with his mouth full.

“
Pozhaluysta.
Please.”

He set the cake plate on a table, guided me inside the
banya,
and shut the door. Once inside the steamy room, he kissed me, sliding his icing-coated tongue inside my mouth and swirling it around my taste buds. “You like it? This is how sweet your body tastes.”

I began to sweat from the heat of the sauna. “
Da.
I’m delicious.”

He tugged on the belt of my robe. “Want some special kisses, angel?”

“I’ve been ready since last night.”

He slid off my pink, fluffy robe while I tugged off his towel. My naughty Russian must’ve planned our rendezvous in the
banya,
because he hadn’t bothered to wear underwear. I spanked him playfully and pulled his body into mine. “Been having some dirty thoughts, boss?”

The intensity in his eyes, the manly smell of his sweaty body, and his growing erection was exuding enough sexual energy to make me spontaneously combust. He untied the strings of my bikini top, slid it off, and sucked on my breasts. Then he turned me around and kissed my back as he loosened the strings of the bottom and stripped me naked.

He guided me to the ground, laid me back on my robe, and straddled my body. Steam wafted around us like clouds. Sweat dripped off his body and rained down on me. The one hundred-plus degrees of the sauna revved up our body temperatures, drenching our skin in sweat.

Vladimir cupped my breasts and squeezed them firmly, massaging them until my nipples hardened. He took one of them in his mouth and sucked while fondling my sweet spot, sending waves of pleasure pulsing through my core. I was ready to go all the way with him. I didn’t want to wait another day. “Take me, Vladimir,” I whispered. “I want you to be my first.”

“There’s nothing I want more in the world, beautiful. Claiming your virginity will be the greatest moment of my life.” He wadded up his sweats and tucked them underneath me to provide a cushion for my back. “I will give you
all
of me after the wedding. Until then, you’ll have to settle for this.” He bent my knees and rocked me backward, kissing me between my legs, running his tongue along my skin, and sucking on my clit.

He slid his finger inside me and growled when he felt my wetness. “You’ve been having naughty thoughts, Miss Cook.” He caressed me deeper and raised my excitement level to a new high.

I groaned and swiveled my hips, syncing up to his rhythm as he massaged me with his finger and swirled his tongue around my pleasure zone.

“This is only the beginning, beautiful. When I’m inside you tomorrow night, I’ll pleasure you on levels you’ve never even dreamed of.”

“God, Vladimir. I want you now.”

He massaged me faster and faster until my body tensed, my excitement escalated, and I growled a throaty sigh of relief as ripples of pleasure pulsed through my sex. My entire body was on fire, dripping with sweat, and the heavenly warmth spreading through my core had me coming undone. My chest heaved as I came down from my orgasmic high. My body relaxed and Vladimir kissed me between my legs and hummed into my delicate skin, savoring the sweetness of my release in our steamy love nest.

I wiggled out from under him, sat up on my knees, and wrapped my arms around him. I kissed him, tasting my body mixed with the sweetness of the cake on his tongue. “I want to try that thing we talked about at the dacha. Show me how to make you come
here
.” I rubbed my breasts against his sweaty body.

“You’re so fucking hot, Carter.” He cupped my breasts and squeezed them together. “You want me to come all over your beauties?”

“
Da, spasibo
. Yes, please.”

Eager to honor my request, he lay on his back and positioned me so that I was straddling him on all fours. My hands rested on the floor on either side of his hips, and his erection was centered between my breasts. “Kiss it.”

I loved it when he flipped over to boss-mode, especially during our intimate moments. I was insecure about my lack of experience, but when he took charge I felt confident and eager to follow his lead.

I lashed my tongue across the tip of his penis and then took him in my mouth. I brought him in deep and sucked him hard as I stroked his length with my hand. His erection grew bigger and stronger from my touch, and he moaned, “That’s right, sweetheart. Keep going.”

Vladimir wove his fingers through my sweat-drenched hair and encouraged me to go faster. As my head bobbed, his body tensed, and just when he was ready to release, he pulled out of my mouth. I placed my hands on either side of him, lowered my chest on top of him, and centered him between my breasts.

He cupped them together and sandwiched himself between my sweaty beauties. He massaged my breasts and rocked back and forth, syncing our bodies into an erotic rhythm. He groaned dramatically and spilled his warm semen all over my breasts. He held me there, savoring his orgasm, and uttered something sexy in Russian.

He panted as he recovered, praising me for a job well done. The sensual pleasure of his warmth spreading across my chest aroused me, and I had some ideas of my own to add to our love fest. I sat up on my knees and whispered his name as I rubbed his slick release across my breasts like body lotion. His gaze followed my fingers as I slathered my chest with his cum. “It’s silky.” I picked up his hand and guided it across my breasts.

“God, Carter.”

I slid my wet finger inside my mouth and sucked it, tasting his cum mixed with the salty sweat from my body. “Now you’re inside me, boss. You’ll be a part of me forever.”

“What are you doing to me, angel?” His sexually charged expression downgraded to a bitter-sweet, broken smile. “How am I ever going to live without you?”

I feel the same way about you, Vladimir.

The
banya
door opened, sending in a gust of frigid air. The steam was so thick, I couldn’t see a face, but when a big body blocked out all the light from the doorway, I knew of only one person in the world that humungous.

“What are you doing on the floor, boss?” Boris stepped inside.

“Nothing—give me a minute. Wait outside.”

“Why?”

The thought of Boris seeing me naked made me ill, but the idea of me seeing
him
naked made me want to stab my eyes out with a fork. We could not accidentally bump into each other in here. “It’s me. Sorry, I was just leaving.” I scooped up my robe and covered my body.

The door remained open and the steam made a quick getaway. When the air cleared, a seething expression materialized on the big guy’s face. Wearing nothing but a towel, I got an eyeful of all the prison ink engraved on his skin. He had a cross centered on his chest with angels riding clouds on either side.

Below that were the tortured faces of Vladimir’s slain family shackled with chains and barbed wire. On his right bicep was a much younger likeness of Anya’s face, and on the left was a sweet-faced little girl—Katia. He had stars engraved on his shoulders, the telltale symbol of membership in the Russian
Bratva
.

Boris’s gaze darted between us and landed on me. “What are
you
doing in here?”

“Um…”

Boris held up his hand to stop me from spinning my story. “I’m fifty-five years old, Carter. I know
what
you two are doing in here. I want to know why. Have you forgotten our deal? If there is anything you need to tell me that could affect the outcome of our plan, I need to know now.”