Unprotected with the Mob Boss: A Dark Mafia Romance (Alekseiev Bratva) by Fox, Nicole (ebook reader online .txt) 📕

“Are you breaking up with me?” I cut in. I sound angry, but that fear he’s talking about is in the center of my chest. I must be suffering from severe Stockholm Syndrome, but I don’t care what the name is. I need more time before I’m locked out of his life. And I don’t like hearing that everything we are is a mistake.

“No,” he says. “I don’t want you to be forced to live by fear either. So I’m giving you the leverage I had.”

“You’re messing with me. You have to have copies of all of these things. You told me you had copies.”

“And they’re in there.” He leans toward me. “I had no time to prepare to do this. I don’t need to use mind games. You can go to the police if you’d like. I’ll beat the case, but maybe it’ll make you feel better.”

He rubs his forehead. When he looks at me again, there’s a pain in his eyes I hadn’t seen before.

“I don’t want you to live in fear of me. My parents lived in fear of each other and I’m not going to go down that road. At this point, you’re a complication and I don’t need it. You can go to your parents, admit that they were right, and live the rest of your life perfectly happy.”

He’s not looking me in the eye. His words should feed into my feelings of inadequacy, but all those hard feelings fade and all I feel is the need to be closer to him. I’m not ready to live the rest of my life yet.

Without giving myself time to overthink things, I undo my dress’ knot behind my neck and let the fabric fall. I couldn’t wear a bra under the dress without the band being visible, so when Lev looks at me, I have his full attention. I slide off the couch, pulling the dress down to the floor. It puddles at my feet. The feeling of silk on my skin is pleasant, but the look that Lev is giving me is thrilling and threatening all at once.

I settle back on the couch, naked except for silk underwear. Lev’s eyes are predatory, skimming over my body like he’s plotting how to conquer every part of me. My pussy pulses at the thought.

He pounces, his hands on my shoulders as he pins me to the couch. He crushes his mouth against mine, his hands sliding over my body with an insatiable hunger. I try to kiss him back, but he’s a famished predator; I can only receive his need and give myself over to him completely.

He yanks his shirt open, a couple of the buttons snapping off. He whips it onto the floor before returning to his starved kissing. His hands move down to his belt, grinding near my clit as he works the buckle and unfastens his jeans. I arch my back, needing more contact.

He lifts himself off me, climbing off the couch to kick off his shoes and pull down his pants. His size surprises me again. I’ve seen it before, but either my memory is fuzzy from the alcohol or it just seems bigger in front of me.

His hand strokes his cock, his eyes scouring my body. My body is nearly shaking, from need and fear.

“Lie over the armrest,” he orders. I don’t think twice about it as I do what he says. I settle over the armrest, my stomach comfortably on the thickest part of it.

He moves over toward my head. His cock dips in front of my eyes. As I raise my chin, stretching to reach it, he grabs under my arms and pulls me farther up, so the upper half my body is dangling over the couch. I put my hands down to prevent myself from falling.

“No,” he says. “Keep your hands behind your back.”

I unsteadily cross my wrists behind my back.

The couch shifts and I feel Lev’s legs settle outside of mine. His cock taps against my ass twice before circling around my slit. One warm hand settles over my wrists, clasping around them. His grip slowly tightens. His cock presses against my entrance.

He slams into me. At first, there’s hot pain shooting through me. I cry out, but as he presses his weight against me, burying himself in me, the pain sharpens the desire, like it has deepened what I’m capable of feeling.

He keeps his weight on me, a slight ache in my wrists from it. I feel his warm breath against my hair. I squirm against him, trying to get some more friction. His body quivers over me as he gives a breath of laughter.

“What is it about you?” he mutters. “I try to get rid of you, try to get rid of your control over me, and you make me lose control again.”

I try to move my hands. He tightens his grip.

“Are you afraid?” he asks.

The answer is yes.

I’m afraid my relationship with my parents is over.

I’m afraid of the future.

I’m afraid of the Bratva.

I’m afraid of getting a call and hearing that he’s dead.

And underneath him, yes, there’s fear, but in this position, I trust him completely. It’s fear, but as long he’s there, it’s thrilling fear. It’s conquerable.

His grip on my wrists starts to loosen and his weight starts to lift. He starts to pull out. Uncertainty starts to enter the room.

“No,” I answer his question.

The moment I speak, he thrusts back into me, jabbing my clit against the armrest. I wince, but as he picks up his pace, the friction sends strikes of lightning up my body.

He releases my wrists. I try to put my hands underneath me against the side of the armrest, but every time he bears down, my hands slip. I grip onto the edge of the couch cushion as I keep sliding forward.

His hands slide under my breasts, giving them a squeeze before he pulls me back a bit. It prevents the blood from rushing to my head like