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

before but my clit isn’t hitting the armrest like before. I move my hand underneath me, barely brushing against my clit before he pulls my arm out, pinning it down on the couch cushion.

As I feel the peak approaching, he stops. He pulls out, the emptiness inside me more present than ever. I turn my head to look at him. Beads of sweat curve around his forehead as he grabs my shoulders, flipping me over easily. He spreads my legs open, my right leg draping over the couch. He slams back into me, but instead of returning to his previous rhythm, his pelvis grinds against my clit.

His hands cradle my face and he looks directly at me as the climax rips into me. He must know he needs to hold me together because the ecstasy shatters inside me. Riptide after riptide of pleasure floods me, pulling me under.

Lev groans, deep and gruff, as my pleasure triggers his orgasm. His cock spasms inside me, filling me with his heat.

He rests his forehead on my clavicle. When he lifts his head again, his expression is softer than I’ve ever seen it. He raises himself up, kissing my forehead once and my lips twice.

He pulls himself off me slowly and picks up his shirt, wiping the sweat off his face. I move onto my side. This is how it ends. He’s had his last fuck, gotten it out of his system.

“Did you want to fuck me in as many positions as possible?” I ask softly. “Is that why you stopped and moved me?”

He carefully folds his shirt, not looking at me. “I just wanted to be able to see your face for once.”

He sets the shirt down. He crouches down near the couch, so we’re closer to being eye to eye.

“We’re going to shower,” he tells me. “We’re going to sleep. And I’m going to keep you until the day I die.”

They’re not quite wedding vows, but as he scoops me up in his arms, our skin sticking to each other, I know he means every word.

I don’t know whether to cry tears of joy, or scream and run like my life depends on it.

15

Lev

I’ve always slept erratically. When I was a child, I’d see the shadows of my parents through the crack of the door, intertwining to become one shadow. When I was a teenager, I kept the door closed, but I could still hear the screaming, the pleading, the sound of flesh striking flesh. The night before I left the house, my mother was trying to muffle her crying. My father had raised us from poverty to middle class, so when he told me if I proved myself as a foot soldier, I’d become a Bratva boss one day, I was eager to leave the house to prove my tenacity. I told myself I’d return one day and find a remedy for the poison in our home.

But my mother did that on her own and that’s when my regrets began filling up the barrel chamber.

I wake twice in the nighttime, which is a significant decrease. Every time, I turn to see Ally. Her body is a range of hills and valleys, each crying out for my touch, my kiss. The first time I wake up, I settle my hand on her hip. The second time, I move my hand over her breast, her heart beating under my palm.

When I wake up the third time, I check my phone. Three notifications.

Ilya: No leads yet.

1 missed call

Ilya: 4 14 6 2 10 23 70 32 23 7

I stare up at the ceiling for several seconds before carefully rolling off the bed. I tuck the blanket closer to Ally. I open the door a crack and slip out.

I go down to the den and grab Russia: From Slavic Tribes to Potential Superpower. I take it to the office. I flip it open to page 4, word 14: law. Page 6, word 2: enforcement. Page 10, word 23: discovered. Page 70, word 32: Mach. Page 23, word 7: Ten.

Law enforcement discovered Mach ten. He must mean MAC-10. Illegal firearms wouldn’t have been the first evidence we would have tried to get rid of, but it would have been on the list. It doesn’t directly link us back to the Bratva, but it’s enough for them to keep digging. If they figure out we’re transferring the weapons through furniture delivery, that could be connected back to us.

I send an encrypted message to Ilya, telling him to cancel all gun deliveries for the next two weeks.

I glance out the window. It’s still dark outside. All I want to do is crawl back into bed with Ally, but the police are a molehill and the Colosimos are turning into a mountain. Instead, I open up my laptop. There are sixteen emails in my Mariya’s Revenge account and they must all be important because my people know not to contact me unless it’s urgent.

I answer them one by one. Ilya calls to tell me Rodion’s wife is flipping out, refusing to do anything the Bratva says. Her husband was new to the family. I don’t blame her for being distraught, but at the same time, she has to be brought under control. I tell him I’ll call her around 7:00.

It’s like the world is full of children and I have to save them all from setting themselves on fire.

At 7:00, I call Rodion’s wife.

“They could come back to torture and kill me,” she says. “I should tell the police everything. Maybe they’ll protect me.”

“The police aren’t going to do shit for you,” I say. “You know that. We have people watching your house, but it’s unnecessary. They don’t want you.”

“It’s not enough. You should set me up in that new hotel—the five-star one with the gold lion statues. Or I could stay with you. You have a lot of extra rooms, yeah?”

I stifle a sigh, disappointed in Rodion’s choice of a wife. Like so many other Bratva women,