Sasha: A Dark Mafia Romance (Belles & Mobsters)
Sasha: Chapter 12

Moye Serdtse.

Moye Serdtse my ass. I was an idiot to think he would have given me his real name.

Three years of nothing. We shared a kiss. He saved me more than once. He taught me self-defense, how to shoot a gun, and how to use a knife in a fight. And then he left and never came back.

Just like Alessio and Mia all those years ago. Fear crept into the corners of my mind and I felt like that scared little girl again. Weak and vulnerable. Blackness threatened to swallow me whole, just like every beating I survived during those two years without my brother.

Catching my breath, my fingers trembled as I smoothed them over my clothes. I hated being alone and even more, I hated being left behind. Two years without Alessio and Mia were hell. The day of Mia’s funeral, Alessio took me back and cared for me. Autumn’s parents gave me a welcome and family that neither Alessio nor I ever had.

And still, the frightened little girl refused to leave. You’d think ten years of healing would be enough. It wasn’t.

Bottom line, I hated being left behind and Sasha had left me. I never heard nor saw the man again. Nothing. Zip. Nada.

I lost hope that I’d see him again. Never in a million years did I think I’d find that same man in the Montréal restaurant, sitting at the same table with my brother and father.

Sasha Nikolaev.

Fuck.

I had heard of his reputation. Psychopath. Unhinged. A killer.

For a short moment, I had been swooning after a killer. Oh my gosh! Thank God for small blessings that he never came back. And thank fuck, he never asked me for a date. Every time we met at the gym, I hoped he would and I would have totally said yes.

Alessio would have blown a gasket. My big brother was so protective. Ever since he snatched me from my father’s grip the day of Mia’s funeral, he had been so protective. He thought me fragile, but I’d survived those two years all on my own. I had to, dying wasn’t an option.

But Sasha Nikolaev. Moye Serdtse. For those short months, he never treated me like a fragile little doll.

I had so many questions. For a psychopath, he seemed really nice. At least during those three months that he trained me. He made me stronger, and for that I’d always be grateful to him.

The damn deceiver.

I pulled out my phone and googled Moye Serdtse. In the past, I resisted the urge to look him up. Why? Well, I never gave him my identity, so it only seemed fair. But fair was off the table now. I’d bet my life that the liar knew my identity all along.

My step faltered. “My heart,” I muttered. That guy had me calling him ‘my heart’ all this time. There was one other adjective that should be added to Sasha Nikolaev’s name. Prankster.

I rolled my eyes and walked through my brother’s mansion. Dark and quiet. Lonely. I fucking hated being alone.

Those two years, from the age of eight to ten, were the longest, most lonely years of my life. So when people said alone time was good for your soul, I’d just flip them the bird and tell them to fuck off.

Why in the fuck did Alessio send me home with Ricardo?

It would have made more sense if he would have asked Ricardo to drive Autumn home and he came home with me. But Alessio always had an agenda. Not that I blamed him. It required conniving to stay one step ahead of Father.

I made my way to my room. The moment I stepped into the sanctuary of my bedroom, I kicked off my shoes. My best friend preferred comfort, I loved my heels. It was easier to stab someone with a heel than flats.

I grabbed a hair tie from the dresser and pulled my hair up into a messy bun. I was so engrossed in my thoughts that I hadn’t noticed him until I came chest-to-chest with the broad, tall body. Palest, freakiest blue eyes I had ever seen.

Sasha Nikolaev.

My lungs seized. My ears buzzed.

“What are you doing here?” I croaked.

He was not a man I wanted anyone to find me with. Alessio would murder him if he knew he dared to enter my bedroom. And now that I knew Sasha’s real name, I couldn’t blame him.

Sasha’s reputation preceded him.

I remembered hearing that he broke the kneecaps of three men and smashed their skulls while serving in the military. Or another tale of a man he skinned alive. Fucking alive. The reason? Unknown.

Father once called him Satan’s spawn. My own father was a sadistic bastard so if Sasha’s cruelty superseded his, maybe I should stay away. Yet, that slightly unhinged look in those pale blues didn’t make me panic.

Maybe all my fear was already used up. Or maybe I was more broken than I thought.

The two of us watched each other. Sasha stood tall, his broad shoulders filling the leather jacket perfectly despite his stocky form. He stood with his hands hooked in his jean pockets.

He changed his clothes, I thought for no reason at all. In the restaurant, he wore a suit.

His posture was casual, but it was deceiving. There was nothing casual about him. The glimpse of ink on his neck and fingers warned. Most of Alessio’s friends had ink, but there was just something different about Sasha’s ink.

On him, tattoos were a warning, not art.

“Branka Michelle Russo,” he drawled, his tone like a sweet tart, but his eyes promised something entirely different. Something that was about to consume me.

“So you knew my name all along?” I accused.

There was no need for answers. Confirmation was on his face, and he didn’t even bother hiding it.

“Your water bottle,” I said, although not sure why. It didn’t even matter. “That had the wrong initials too. C.H. Were you scared I’d recognize you if you had the right initials?”

The tug of his lips told me I amused him. “In the Russian Cyrillic alphabet, C is S and H is N.”

Annoyed, I narrowed my eyes and glared. “What are you doing in my room?”

The corner of his mouth tugged upward. Like my question amused him. Or maybe he was just toying with me – like a cat with a mouse.

“And here I thought you’d be happy to see me,” he drawled, the smile on his face sharp as shark teeth. And still butterflies fluttered in my stomach.

“You thought wrong.” You left and never came back. For some stupid reason, that bothered me most of all. “What are you doing in my room?” I repeated through clenched teeth.

“What do people do in bedrooms?” he deadpanned. Was he insinuating–

The smirk on his face told me he was hinting at exactly that. His next words confirmed it. “But then, we can do that pretty much anywhere. In a car. On a plane. On a balcony while clueless people go about their business below us.” My thighs clenched. Good God, what the heck was wrong with me? Or him? Definitely him. “In an alley. On top of a monument.”

I gave him a slow, plain blink, refusing to engage. Do. Not. Engage. This man could kill me with a single grip. Or set me aflame and that would be self-destructive.

Yet my tongue didn’t listen. “Sleep,” I retorted sweetly. “Or in your case, snore like an old man.”

He took a small step forward, I took one back. Repeat.

“Whatever you’re thinking about doing,” I breathed, “-don’t.”

My back hit the wall. My heart hammered against my ribs. My breath hitched. Sasha stared at me intently. Those eyes penetrated through all my defenses, probably digging out all my secrets and all my fears. And like a fool, I held his eyes, letting him trap me with the gravity of his gaze.

It’d only be a matter of time before he discovered all my dirty secrets, leaving me exposed to him. To exploit. But I’d discover his secrets too. I refused to wither – under anyone.

I survived my father, I’d survive anyone.

“After I’m done with you, it will be you snoring,” he purred.

The insinuation in his voice didn’t escape me. There’d be no sleeping involved until he’d exhausted me. With his body. I liked the images that played in my mind. I think. Jesus, I needed more space from this man. Like an entire city’s worth of space.

“Get lost before I scream and have your throat cut,” I said flatly, although my heart raced and my skin buzzed.

Something thickened in his eyes, hot and heavy, and then he grinned. Fucking grinned, like he was a shark that just caught his next meal.

“Go ahead,” he urged, rocking casually on his heels. “I love screamers.”

My face was on fire. My gaze dropped and I heard his chuckle. It was kind of freaky. Kind of sexy. Goddamn it. This man was a fucking lunatic. Yet, my heart banged in my chest. I couldn’t pretend I didn’t smell his cologne. The clean, citrusy scent. I couldn’t pretend I couldn’t feel the heat of his body, so close to me but not close enough.

“I’d rather eat dirt than scream then,” I retorted dryly.

“Did you continue practicing?” he asked. The subject change had me eyeing him suspiciously.

“Yes,” I finally answered.

“Good girl,” he praised. “I bet you’re really good.” Sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ Find_Nøvel.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

Was he talking about my fighting skills or–

My mind must be in a lust-filled gutter.

I kept staring at his eyes that somehow had the power to pull me under. His icy eyes sharpened and a smile tilted his lips. My mind went blank. What the hell was happening to me? This damn guy had to get out of my room before I did something seriously wrong.

Like take the clothes off his big body, I thought to myself. I wondered if ink marked every single inch of his body. The idea of seeing him naked made butterflies flutter in my belly. Not because I was attracted to him.

I absolutely wasn’t. He wasn’t my type. Too old. Too bulky. Too many tattoos. And there were those freakish eyes that watched me while a devastating smirk twisted his mouth.

His hand came to rest next to my head, his palm flat against the wall. My chin tilted up, watching him wide-eyed. He invaded my personal space and unwanted heat sparked inside me.

“Get away from me.” My tone came out breathy, insinuating quite the opposite. Like I was begging him to fuck me.

Something hot flashed in his eyes. Like he was pleased with my reaction. He inhaled deeply, his broad chest brushing against my breasts and my nipples hardened.

The room closed in; the oxygen evaporated. My body wanted him.

Oh. My. God. My traitorous virgin body wanted Sasha Nikolaev. No, no, no.

A small victory flickered in his eyes.

“Don’t worry, kotyonok.” His tone was dark. Hot. “You’re not ready for me yet. Not all of me anyhow.”

This guy was nuts. A complete lunatic. A voice inside me whispered not to fight as a war waged between my body and my mind. In front of me stood a man who was all wrong – unhinged, bad reputation, killer. But my body refused to heed the warning.

So freaking odd. I had the need to feel a man’s hands on me. I thought that died a long time ago, yet around this man, my body trembled with a sweet craving to feel him. On every inch of my skin and inside me.

Alessio cured my visible scars. He hired the best plastic surgeons to erase them but it was the invisible scars that refused to go away. Years of therapy and meditation couldn’t heal those ghosts. Yet, I didn’t care about them around this man. Maybe because I sensed he had some too. Or maybe because I was an idiot.

“What if I was?” I breathed.

I must have surprised him, given his smile froze and his shoulders stiffened. Something resembling satisfaction and disappointment pooled in my stomach. I liked that I got one over on him and disliked that I displeased him.

He relaxed his body, smoothing the shirt with his big hand and I followed the movement, imagining how they would feel on my body. Ignoring my reason, I acted on instinct. I set the palm of my right hand on his chest, the warmth of his hard chest seeping through his expensive fabric.

“Maybe you’re not ready for me?” I challenged, my voice barely above a whisper. My body starved for his touch. But only his and that in itself was troublesome.

Sasha’s hand covered mine, his strong, steady heart drumming underneath my fingers. His thumb brushed slowly over my wrist, right above my vein where the pulse raced like I had just run a marathon.

I had no idea when my whole body pressed against his. My skirt brushed against his jeans and my thighs parted.

Something dark and hot simmered in his pale gaze that didn’t look so pale anymore.

He took my hand from his chest, then slipped them, locking both of my hands behind me. I tilted my chin and watched his every move through a half-lidded gaze.

He watched me like I was something precious, his hand stroking my exposed skin lazily up and down my neck. A shiver rolled down my back.

Surprisingly, I loved his touch.

My knees trembled. My pulse beat wildly. My skin buzzed with anticipation.

“You want to be fucked?” He leaned down, his face an inch from mine. I couldn’t find my voice nor sense. My pussy throbbed and I kept rubbing myself against him.

“No,” I lied, my voice breathless.

“Liar.” His hand traveled down, over my breasts, down my stomach and he scrunched up my dress. Before I could say anything, he slammed his lips down on mine. There was nothing gentle or sweet about it.

All my senses went haywire. He owned me. Consumed. Ravaged.

His lips moved against mine, demanding. He pushed his big body against mine, and I ground myself against him. I had lost all sense of control. I chased the pleasure. His other hand let go of my wrists and grabbed a fistful of my hair, his fingers tangling my strands and tilting my head at an angle. It allowed him a better angle to claim me.

Now that both my hands were free, I wrapped them around the nape of his neck and pulled him harder and closer to me. Heat sizzled, my grunts shattered the air. His tongue tangled and slid over mine.

I tugged harder on his hair, eager for more of this pleasure that kept building higher and higher in the pit of my stomach. His mouth tore from mine, then he buried his face in my neck, and his teeth sank into my flesh.

A gasp tore through my lips. He bit me, hard too. The pain and pleasure mixed. His mouth sucked the spot where he just bit, latching onto the sensitive skin.

In one swift move, he turned me roughly and had me face the wall. His chest was pressed against my back, something hard pressing against the small of my back. He was hard. And huge, I realized.

His lips were back on the curve of my neck, his fingers tracing a line down my spine. I pushed against his erection that was poking me, wanting more of him. Right now, I wanted it all. For the first time in my life, I wanted to go all the way with a man. A mere stranger.

Jesus Christ! This couldn’t be normal. Yet, I couldn’t find the strength to stop. I needed this.

He pushed my hair over my shoulder and his hot, hungry mouth roved over me as his body pressed against every inch of me. His tongue followed a line across my shoulder blades. Warmth spread through every inch of my body, my pussy throbbed and the moment he grabbed my hips to grind himself against me, my head tilted back against him and a moan left my lips.

And the whole time, both my palms were pressed against the wall. One hand held on to my hips while his other worked its way to my inner thighs. I jolted the moment his palm cupped my pussy.

“I’m not going to fuck you,” he rasped so low, I thought I was imagining his voice. “Not today. But you will scream my name by the time we’re done here.”

I exhaled a sharp breath. My breathing was erratic. My pulse even more so.

His thick fingers brushed my damp panties, then slid inside my underwear. My fingers curled into the wall, my body shuddered and a breathy moan vibrated the air.

His touch was rough, confident. And so goddamn greedy.

My pulse roared in my ears as he started to move his fingers, in and out. In and out. His lips brushed against my earlobe. His hurried breaths fogged my brain.

“Please,” I begged on a whimper.

He moved his arm, working me over. My toes curled and he nipped my earlobe.

“You’ll wait for me,” he demanded, his tone hard. “I’ll let you come, but you’ll promise me first that you’ll wait.”

I would have promised him my firstborn at that moment. I was on the brink of my first orgasm and like a greedy spoiled brat, I wanted it.

I fucked his hand, grinding against him like my life depended on it. His thick fingers slid in and out. Hard and fast.

“Promise me,” he ordered, tightening his hold on my neck. His fingers withdrew, smearing my wetness on my swollen, sensitive clit, rubbing lazy circles. It wasn’t enough. I wanted it rough and hard.

“Yes, yes,” I murmured, all my thoughts jumbled. I would have promised him anything as long as I got what I needed right now. “I promise. Do it harder.”

He laughed, his mouth returning to kiss my neck, while his fingers pressed inside me. I writhed against him, my pussy clenching around his fingers. His increased tempo, the intensity, and pleasure burst from my center.

And I hated that he was right. I screamed. I came apart.

Then in one swift move, he moved us to my bed. “On the bed. Get on your hands and knees. Let me see that pink pussy of yours.”

My mind blanked but my body was already moving. I scrambled onto my bed, on my hands and knees when he pushed my dress up. Goosebumps traveled over my skin. He locked my wrists behind my back with one hand, while his other slipped between my legs and rubbed my swollen clit. The sound of my shredding panties filled the air and I glanced over my shoulder to see his face inching closer and closer to my ass.

This man liked power and definitely held it over me and my body. At least for the moment.

It was a reluctant admission that I’d never admit out loud.

“Can you give me another one?” he rasped, his hot breath against my backside sending shudders down my spine.

“A-another?” I breathed, mindless with the jolt of pleasure that he wrenched from me.

“Another orgasm,” he clarified. He pushed a finger inside me while keeping one finger on my clit. A half gasp, half moan filled the room and my eyelids fluttered shut. The sound must have pleased him because he hummed his approval. “Yes, you can give me another.”

My hands curled into fists, nails digging into my palms. His citrusy scent mixed with my arousal. I was panting so hard, I thought I’d pass out. My ass pushed against his hand, my pussy clenching around his finger.

“I can feel your pussy squeezing my finger.” He curled his finger and hit my sensitive spot, drawing another moan from my throat. “Are you imagining it’s my cock.” When I didn’t answer, he dragged his finger out, then shoved it back in. Hard. “Answer me.”

“Yes,” I moaned, the sound of slick wetness filling the room. In and out.

“Good girl,” he praised and my chest glowed. It fucking glowed. “You’re so tight. That pussy is mine and for my cock only. God made it for me.” He released my hands, but they remained behind my back. His hand landed on my ass. Smack. “Understood?”

The slap of his hand against my ass reverberated through the air, matching the explosion on my soft flesh. My ass cheek was on fire.

I forgot to answer and another slap on my ass followed. “Answer me, kotyonok.”

Closing my eyes, I relished in the sensation that exploded on my skin and evidence of arousal that trickled down my inner thighs. A strange tightness in my stomach and my nipples had me on the edge. My inner thighs were hot, tingly and my ass was burning. Slap.

My body jolted forward. I was tempted to just grind myself against the sheets and get relief, but his big hand gripped my hips.

“I can’t hear you,” he purred, his face lowered back down, his lips skimming my ass. “Who does this pussy belong to?”

“You.” My body’s reaction to him should scare me. It didn’t. It made me greedy. Wetness slicked my thighs and a brush of air against my bare pussy made me shudder with a need only he could satisfy. “Please, Moye Serdtse,” I begged.

He stilled. And I twisted my head around to look at him again. Fuck, the sight of him was glorious. The dark lust on his face was for me and made me feel victorious. Although I hadn’t done anything to earn his desire.

“Say it again,” he demanded, his voice hoarse.

I blinked in confusion. “Please?” I murmured hesitantly. I guess he liked to be begged.

“You called me Moye Serdtse,” he remarked.

“A habit,” I admitted, hinting at the fact I’d gotten myself off thinking about him. That earned me a beautiful smile from the unhinged mobster.

His mouth pressed against my ass cheek that he’d slapped, the feeling in such contrast to the earlier slap.

“For that, you’ll get rewarded.” His finger slid against my folds, smearing my wetness and then without a warning, he slid two fingers back inside me. My back arched, my skin heated and the handprints on my ass burned.

He elicited another moan from my throat.

He pushed my ass higher up in the air and his lips skimmed lower and lower, until his mouth replaced his fingers. My eyes fluttered shut and a loud moan vibrated through the air. His finger went to the swollen nub of my clit, flicking it and rubbing it while his mouth worked my cunt.

And his grunts were the sexiest sounds I had ever heard on this earth. I relished in the sensation, grinding against his mouth. Back and forth. Back and forth. And all the while his tongue slid in and out of me, tongue fucking me, and the explosion ignited in my core and burst through my whole body.

I dropped my head down, my screams muffled by the pillows. I screamed his name. My body shook with the violent pleasure he wrenched out of me with his mouth. A tremor gripped me, sending wave after wave of pleasure through my body, and all the while Sasha’s mouth never left my cunt.

When my shudders subsided, Sasha flipped me around, my back hitting the mattress. My legs parted, wishing he’d fuck me. Right here and right now. I was ready. I wanted more.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes burning with intense blue flames. He ran a tip of his finger over my bottom lip, smearing my wetness over it.

“One day, kotyonok, nothing will save you from me.” His voice was coarse. I had no idea what he meant by it. His hand came to my throat, his grip firm and a shiver rolled through me as his lips pressed against my ear. “You’re all mine now. From now until the end of time.”

“Well, that’s intense,” I murmured, a languid sensation pulling on my muscles. “It goes both ways, you know,” I murmured, my eyelids heavy.

He pressed his face into my neck, then inhaled deeply. A low growl of satisfaction sounded in the back of his throat and the deep, rough noise vibrated through every cell of my body.

“It does,” he confirmed. “And don’t worry, kotyonok. I will wait.”

My chest lit up like the Fourth of July fireworks, and I tilted my head to bare my neck. This was… addictive.

“Remember your promise, kotyonok. No one else touches you.” Another nip on my neck, soothed down with a kiss. “Or they’re dead.”

He rose to his full height – tall, big, and sturdy. He could break me with one move. Yet, I never felt safer than at this very moment.

But that little girl who feared being left behind surfaced and clawed at my chest.

“You left before and didn’t come back,” I blurted out, my voice trembling. “You going to come back this time?”

Blue eyes met mine and I feared he could see too much. I drowned in the deep sea of his blues and didn’t bother coming up for air. My lungs squeezed. My heart hurt. Yet, I didn’t hide. For some reason I let him see it all.

“I will come back,” he vowed softly. “No matter what.”

With a nod, he headed for the door.

I let out a little growl. “Remember your promise too, Sasha Nikolaev,” I said. I might not be as tough as he, but I wouldn’t be a pushover either.

He stopped with a hand on the knob and turned to me.

His gaze flashed, dark and rough. It rocked me to my core and set me aflame.

“I always keep my promises, kotyonok.”

And he was gone, but his words remained behind.

I caught an image of myself in the mirror. My hair tousled. My lips were red and swollen. My cheeks flushed.

I didn’t recognize myself. This wasn’t me. Making a promise to Sasha Nikolaev was playing with fire.

Yet, I knew without a shred of doubt I’d wait for him.

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