No names

Nataliya

Since taking over the Barsukov Russian mafia, I have gathered enough blood on my hands to paint the entire town in red. It hasn’t stopped me from killing more, washing this city clean of ever follower my father had allied himself with. Most people in this city know to fear me, to never touch me, even if most of them have no idea who I am. Most people have common sense, and those that don’t know to follow like sheep. I am a predator, a hunter, a cold-hearted killer. I have murdered most of my family in cold blood and even though I have cleansed this city of the evil that was ruling it for generations, I still came out as the villain. Men want to either fuck me, control me, or kill me. It is rare that I find a man that can capture my attention, that can intrigue me enough to want to spend more than five second in his company, but tonight, I got lucky.

I haven’t bothered asking the cop for his name. The fact that he is my enemy doesn’t stop me from leading him to my car. I always park my car behind the bar, a parking area that is restricted and only staff and the owner can park here. The male whistles when he sees my all-black Mansory McLaren 720S waiting for me. I unlock the car and then step back, allowing the door to lift. “Well, are you going to drive?” I ask him, and I can see the pure excitement in his eyes. He is clearly new to this city, or he wouldn’t get so excited about seeing fancy cars, but I guess the prospect of driving one is far different from just looking at it.

“You are going to allow me to drive your car without even knowing my name?” He asks, and I am slightly disappointed that he wants to exchange names. I always keep it simple. I never give them my name, never bother to learn their names. I want a release that I can’t always find with a vibrator. That is it. I don’t mind giving them the thrill of driving my cars, not if I can buy the exact same car the very next day if something were to happen and besides, I can read men like an open book. He hardly had a sip of his whiskey, he likes control, even if he has none in this situation. He won’t push the limits too far and even if he does, I am not scared of a little bit of a thrill. “Relax darling, I wasn’t planning on remembering your name either.” He says and I relax, but I still don’t smile at him. I hate smiling, because it feels forced, practiced. Unless I am killing someone or giving an evil smile, I don’t smile at all.

“You have five seconds, or I get in and leave you right here.” I tell him and he doesn’t hesitate again. To my surprise, he doesn’t get in the car, but instead, he grabs me around the waist, and pulls me into him. One of his hands pulls my hair back, forcing me to look up at him. He is tall, at least a head taller than me, even with heels on. I am not short. I am 6.2 foot tall, which makes him about 6.8 foot. His blue eyes practically glow, and I can see the war this man has within himself. He has done horrible things in the name of justice. He wants to believe he is the defense line between good and evil. It wouldn’t take his soul long to be corrupted by his very own.

“You do not tell me what to do. As much as I want to be here, you will not order me to sit, stand or bark. You are powerful, confident and clearly independent, but you are not in control here. Tonight, you are mine. I say what goes, I say how low you need to bow and how far back you need to bend to fit my cravings. If you are looking for a weak man that you can order around, then go back into that bar and find someone else.” He says and I bare my teeth at him like the fucking animal I am. As much as I want to bite him, tell him to fuck off, I can’t, because I crave the dominance he is offering. He doesn’t want to use me, doesn’t want me to be weak and not fighting back, but he wants me to willingly submit to him.

“Fuck you.” I tell him, because it is not in my nature to submit.

“Oh, I plan on doing exactly that.” He says, and then he slams his lips on mine, his teeth biting before his tongue soothes the sting. I barely have time to think before he lifts me up, my legs automatically wrapping around his waist. He is already hard, the length pressing into my needy center. He presses me closer as he starts walking and all I can do is hold on as his tongue goes to war with mine.

I am suddenly air born for a second before my ass hits the soft material of the passenger seat, and I am shocked with how little effort he can handle me. I am not heavy, but I am muscular. My legs were wrapped around him, yet he easily unwrapped me in one swift movement and dumped me in the passenger seat. I don’t have a chance to complain, because he is gone, walking to the driver’s side of the car before I can protest. Fucker.

“Now, if you swear at me again, I will put that mouth of yours to good use. Do you understand?” He asks and instead of fear, a thrill shouts down my spine. This is exactly what I need.

“Then it would be in your best interest to not give me a reason to swear again.” I tell him, but inside I am begging for him to give me a reason. I want to see what he will do, how he plans on having me submit to him. I won’t go down without a fight, and I have a feeling that is what he is hoping for.

“You seem like trouble.” He says with a chuckle. Oh darling, you have no idea.

“You seem to like that about me.” I tease him, running a hand up his thigh as he starts up my car, not struggling to figure out how the car works, which tells me he has driven something similar before. Good, I love a man that knows what he is doing.

“That depends on what kind of trouble you are, but I am assuming it can’t be anything too bad seeing as you seem comfortable with someone that carries a gun and badge.” He says, and I laugh, full belly laugh. He gives me an odd look and honestly, I don’t know if it is because my laugh sounds weird seeing as I can’t remember when I had ever laughed in my life, or if it is because I am laughing at his comment.

“The gun and badge means nothing. Most people that stand behind that badge are more corrupt than the mafia. The only difference between a cop and a mafia boss is that you murder legally. Your gun and badge are not something I fear, it bores me, but what I see in your eyes, the storm that brews with self-hatred and your hero complex, that is what captivates me. That means that there is still something worth saving in you. You are not dead and calculating and that is why I am taking you to my room, despite the fact that you are a cop.” I tell him and he looks conflicted, like he didn’t expect me to show such hatred towards police. Very few people in this city can say they trust the people that have taken an oath to keep us safe. If you are going to have a distressed woman, choose between a biker gang with tattoos and piercings and a cop, they will choose the man in leather every single time.

“Look, you are clearly new in this city, so let me clear things up for you. Corruption does not start with the people that claim they are evil. It doesn’t grow where people show you violence and pain. Corruption breeds behind false propaganda and lies. It feasts on those that claim they are here to save this world, that they are there to protect you. As much as I hope you cuff me to the bed and bend me in every which way, I couldn’t give two shits about the badge you hide behind.” I tell him, not with aggression, simply stating the truth. “Do you plan on stepping on the gas, or are you going to waste your opportunity to forget who you are and just live a little?” I ask him, trying to push him, to see if he will become that monster that I can see is hiding behind his eyes. I would very much like to play with that unhinged man that was staring back at me in the parking area before.

“You are something else. I can’t quite figure out what to think about you.” He says, but he steps on the gas, pushing my car faster down the open road. Luckily, the streets are clear, giving him the opportunity to really open her up and let her fly. He probably has no idea where he is going, but he doesn’t ask me for directions to my hotel. I don’t try to explain to him where to go, because I would love to see where he plans on taking me.