Chapter Ten

Celia

The next few days follow the same pattern of me waking up very late, us eating lunch together, then I take a nap. I’m up for a little while and we watch a movie together, then dinner, then I fall asleep soon after. I learn he is patient, cares deeply for his brothers, mother and even his employees.

Milos doesn’t want to talk about his business. I press him and he gives in, in exchange for me eating all my vegetables, no argument for the week. He’s the source of cocaine to the Outfit and Irish mafia—selling only to other heads of mafia in Chicago. Purchasing it from the Rodriguez cartel in Columbia. He stopped street-level dealing when he took over, as risk outweighed reward.

I’m surprised to learn he brings in arms—everything from guns, bullets, and surface-to-air missiles into the US through the grocery shipments from Russia. While most of the guns and bullets stayed in the US what didn’t as well as the missiles traveled further south to the Rodriguez cartel. When he discusses the brothel that doesn’t sound anything like what the word used to mean, I can see he remembers the trafficking his family used to deal in.

As Milos spoke, I learned something else entirely. I didn’t want him to hide who he is. None of it mattered to me because even though I swore I wanted no part of mafia life, I had tried over the last year to live outside of it, and felt as uncomfortable as being forced to wear too tight clothes. This was the first time since I left for school I wasn’t trying to be something I wasn’t. And as much as I want it to be because of Milos, it isn’t him—it’s me.

It isn’t just Milos I’m attracted to, it’s the power and the darkness of mafia that I trust in to keep me safe.

***

On Thursday I wake from my afternoon nap to find the doctor talking with Milos on the balcony. He’s lost the black silk jacket and black tie he wore earlier today and is in a black button-down shirt and black pants. The moment my eyes land on him, Milos turns to find me staring at him. His smile is gentle, he says something to the doctor, then they are both at the side of the bed.

Out comes the flashlight and more questions. Finally, he nods and turns off the flashlight. “Excellent. Keep this up. Even when you go back to school take things slowly. Try to take naps on your own or your body will shut down on you, or give you headaches to force you to slow down if you do not.”

I give in. “I will.”

With a nod to Milos he’s gone.

As he leaves he closes the door behind him. The instant the door closes the air becomes charged with something I can’t define. Turning to Milos, I see he hasn’t moved. He’s still leaning against the side of the desk. Those yellow eyes shimmering with something I can’t define, something that thrills me even as it scares me. His arms are crossed over his broad chest.

“Now that the doctor has stated you are on track for recovery, the time has come for your punishment.” His Russian accent appears, curling around the words with smoky intent.

In seconds he’s undone the cuff link for his right wrist, slipping it into his pocket, then begins rolling up the sleeve before doing the same for his left one. I’m trying not to stare at the tattoos running over his forearms. How had they been hiding just below the surface without any hint they were there?

I shake my head—words won’t come. Anticipation is twisting in my stomach then spreading low, there at the apex of my thighs. This can’t be. No, not at the idea of him punishing me.

An exhale of air that might be a laugh, but there is no humor on his beautiful face or in his eyes. “Yes. I did not speak of it before now, as I wanted your focus on healing. Punishment is necessary. You were almost raped and left for dead in the back roads of nowhere. If he was smart he would have killed you. On your stomach, lift your dress.”

Holy shit, that anticipation goes from a low boil to instant scalding heat on my panties. This is fucked up. I’m fucked up.

“There will be no avoiding this. Either you turn over yourself or I do it. If I do it, I will not handle you with care. Do not anger me, Celia. I promised myself I would never touch you with anger.” This time his words are a growl from deep in his chest, roughening his accent until it’s almost hard to understand him.

Why does it hurt as if he struck me already when he calls me Celia instead of kitten? He thought of me enough to promise himself never to touch me with anger? “Please, Milos. I swear I’ll never do anything like it again. Isn’t what I went through enough already?”

Two steps bring him within inches of me. Heat waves are flowing off him, washing over me, turning my skin hot and tight. “I wish it were. Do you think I want to do this? My dick does not get hard from hurting a woman. I do not like the idea of causing you pain, of seeing tears in your beautiful silver eyes. This is not about what I want—it’s about what you need. You need to learn there are consequences to your actions beyond yourself. Do have any idea how fucking worried I was when you lost consciousness on the phone? All I wondered the whole way there was if you were dead, if I could get to you in time.”

His beautiful face clenched tight with the remembered anguish stuns me. Without thinking I brush a hand over his cheek, hating I was the one to put him through it. Desperate to soothe him, I marvel that he is even real, that I’m touching him.

Only I am not allowed to touch him for more than a few seconds before he pulls back, shaking his head. “Turn over, pull your dress up. Now.”

The words are rapped out. I don’t dare fight him. What fills me with dread the most is I don’t want to fight him. I roll over and pull my dress up. I’m fighting not to squirm in agony of him finding how wet the black sheer lace panties are.

“Pull your panties down.” His Russian accent roughens the words, turning them into something so erotic they glide down my spine like a desperate caress.

I pull them down.

“Ten to each cheek. Count them off.”

The explosion of sound matches the fire of his huge hand striking my ass. No! Fuck this! I try to push off the bed. A rough hand wraps around my throat, pulling me up and back against him. Holy crap, he’s rock hard like a brick wall. The hand around my throat squeezes in warning. Cool and silky, the feel of his clothes against my heated skin is such a contrast I startle all over again.

Hot air washes over my ear, causing a shiver through me. “Be a good girl. Celia, do not make this worse than it has to be.” He croons low. His words send a twisting low in my tummy and leave me trembling. I want to please him so badly. To be his good girl, to have his smile, to hear him call me kitten in Russian, not Celia.

“I’m sorry, Milos.” The words are no more than a whisper.

“Count them off and do not move.” It’s a command.

“One.” I moan.

He lets me go so suddenly it’s a shock as I hit the bed, one I barely have time to take in before another smack rings out and sets my skin on fire.

“Two.”

My head goes down as the second smack to the already heated flesh sends fireworks exploding behind clenched eyes. “Three.”

“Four.” Is a moan I cannot contain.

“Five.” This is beyond fucked up.

“Six.” I choke out the word.

Please let this stop. “Seven.”

I will never again— “Eight.”

The world blurs by the time he stops. I hate that I’m panting, burying my face into the soft comforter. I’m crying, and yes it started from the pain, but it isn’t about the pain—it’s shame from how much I liked it.

Oh god, no. I moan in agony as he finds it. The back of his thick finger runs down my weeping slit.

“If you liked it this much, kotyonok, it cannot truly be called a punishment. However, this time I will leave it as such. There should be no shame in liking the spanking. The shame would be in denying your desire.” A satisfied hum comes from him.

Without thinking I turn to find him sucking on his finger, his eyes closed in pleasure.

Yellow finds me flaring hot. “Too bad for the both of us. Any other time I would get to devour your sweet little cunt until you screamed my name as you flooded my face with your come. But that is only for good girls. As I said, your punishment is not just hurting you.”

I watch in shock as a large hand lowers to what I see is an impressive bulge to shift it. “All I get is my hand. When it should be your—”

I’d rolled over at the sight of him cupping himself. I slide off the bed, my legs not holding me up—leaving me on my knees in front of him. The words won’t come, I can’t find air in my lungs for them. It appears I’ve managed to shock even Milos. All he does is stare down at me, yellow eyes wide. I find the strength to reach up to his belt.

His huge hand grips both my wrists. “You think sucking my cock is a punishment?”

Shaking my head. “It’s an apology. I’m sorry for you spanking me, for scaring you, for everything.”

“Have you ever sucked a cock, kotyonok?” The words are dangerous. I don’t understand why his eyes have a lethal question in them.

All I can do is shake my head no.

I watch him exhale slowly, the air shifts, the danger has passed. “I do not accept a woman sucking my cock. I fuck her mouth and throat. Thank you for the offer but I do not think I will be able to contain myself, having your mouth on me.”

He steps back but I grip his belt tight—not letting go. My core clenching at his words. “I’m not asking you to be gentle. Do you really think that as wet as the spanking left me, I would be afraid of you being rough?”

An eyebrow goes up. I swear time slows down as a large hand goes around my wrist, removing my hand from his belt. A rush of disappointment hits me, sending my ass onto my feet beneath me, until I see him undo his belt then pull his belt from his pants. A shiver goes through me at the sound of it sliding out.

Shaking his head, Milos runs a hand down my cheek. “I would never use a belt on your silken skin. I do not allow women to touch me. Hands behind your back.”

I’m so fucked up for being pleased that though he might fuck women, he doesn’t allow them to touch them. He isn’t allowing them to cuddle and hold him close. Even as a part of me is stung he is doing the same with me. Until I remember I’m the one who asked for this. I join my hands together at my back.

Milos wraps the belt around my wrists and cinches it tight. His eyes run over me with pleasure as he unfastens his pants. The sound of the zipper is loud in the room. Black silky boxers are pushed down, holy freaking shit. His cock is huge. It’s as thick as a pop can and so very long I shiver in fear even as my core floods with heat to prepare for him inside me.

“I love it. Your virgin cunt gushing for my cock. My cock that will fuck your throat. Yes, kotyonok, I can smell every time your juice floods with need for me. Look at me,” he commands.

Blushing, I do. A large hand cups my cheek as his thumb runs over my lips.

“Like the spanking, there should be no shame. I take it as the compliment it is. It is also very necessary for your cunt to be soaked for my cock to fit inside you, virgin or not, but especially when you are one. Thank you for the sweet honey.”

Pride fills me at him thanking me.

His chuckle is smoke. “Open your pretty little mouth.”

The order causes my nipples to tighten and core to clench. I do as he demands. A second before he meets my lips, I remember to cover my teeth and a purr comes out of his chest. Oh, silky soft yet hard as steel, and so very hot I swear he is burning my tongue. “For the first time you knew just what to do. Such a good girl you are. Lick the slit.”

Heat fills my chest at his words. All the smutty manga my little sister collected and got me to read weren’t for nothing after all. Hmm, salty yet oddly sweet. I lick again and again. A hand goes into my hair, gripping me tight, verging on pain. My eyes close in pleasure as I focus on what I’m doing.

“Eyes up, on me. I want to see your beautiful eyes. Slow, kotyonok,” he murmurs low in his chest.

Meeting his eyes, I love the way they flare bright and hungry. “If I did not believe you, I would have thought you had done this before. Been on your knees like a slut for a man and taken his cock into your mouth—a mouth that is not as sweet as it appears. A dirty mouth that belongs to a dirty slut.”

Where is the outrage? The pain of him calling me a slut and dirty? Why am I so fucking wet? For years Carlo yelled only sluts open their legs to men. I was supposed to be pure for my wedding night. I owed some faceless man first access to my body. I’m not doing that. I’m doing exactly what I want. I’m down on my knees for the most stunningly beautiful man who is hard for me—who wants me. A man who hasn’t asked for a single thing from me, who has only taken care of me, and now I’m pleasing him. And fuck, it’s so damn hot. I am a slut but only for him. The thought is barely complete before Milos says it aloud.

“You are a slut for me alone. No one else has touched you. No other man has known this sweet mouth and tasty cunt. Nikto ne budet. Yesli oni eto sdelayut, ya ub'yu ikh.” The words are dark and rough and so right.

I hum in agreement.

A hiss slides out of him. “Suck.”

Sucking his thick cock isn’t easy. Three inches are all I can take. “Suck harder, then as you do, lick.”

I’m allowed only a few minutes of trying before he tilts my head back with his hand in my hair. At this angle he thrusts further into my mouth.

A growl of satisfaction comes out of him as his cock pushes in further. “Good girl, your mouth is perfect, my sexy slut. Eyes open and on me.”

He thrusts deeper inside, too fast he pulls out then back in. He’s fucking my mouth, I don’t understand why he— Oh fuck, that hand tightens, yanking me further back as shoves his cock deeper. I can’t believe when it hits the back of my throat. I gag but he doesn’t even pause as he thrusts harder and holy shit he’s in my throat.

“Breathe through your nose.” The words are harsh, his accent turning them guttural.

I fight for air and find it. Tears streaming down my face, I can’t fight him, don’t dare. Instead I’m fighting myself. Fighting every urge to push him away—as the survival instinct is screaming at me to do. There’s another part of me screaming and begging for more, more of his cock, his will taking me over. I swallow and he groans, his beautiful face tightening.

“Blyat', ne delay etogo,” he mutters harshly. His other hand goes around my throat. “I said, don’t do that. When I come, but not yet.”

The hand around my throat does something to me, I go limp. Recognizing it, Milos begins fucking my throat just as rough as he warned me he would. Deep down I feel like I should be ashamed I’m glorying in the way Milos is using me, but I’m not. I love that I’m giving him pleasure. He didn’t ask for this, he even refused it. What kind of man refuses a blow job, for fuck’s sake? I am his slut, only his.

“I’m coming,” he growls.

He’s so far down my throat I taste nothing, but remember to swallow the way he told me. His breath catches as I do. The hand around my throat gentles, then he strokes a finger down from my chin to where my heart is pounding at the base of my neck.

As he pulls out I close my mouth and suck. A hiss comes out of him. Stomach flipping, I take in how thick and long he is even soft.

Air leaves him in a flutter of movement. I watch transfixed as he tucks himself back into his boxers and fastens his pants. He’s back to the poised, controlled Milos as if it never happened. Did I do it wrong? He picks me up and puts me back on the bed.

A large hand cups my cheek, forcing me to meet his eyes. “Thank you, kotyonok. You gave me pleasure like no other, pushed me to lose control. I want to apologize. In the heat of the moment I should not have called you a slut.”

Wait? That was a loss of control? It didn’t seem like it to me at all, yet his apology is sincere.

“It is a common fantasy for us men with fragile egos that a woman is open, willing, a slut if you will—for us alone. In truth it’s bullshit. A woman has every right to find pleasure as she wishes with whoever she finds to give it to her.” His thumb swipes over my lips. “Krome vas.”

I’m dying to tell him I’m not sorry he called me a slut, but does that make it worse? Because it is only for him. Then I lose all train of thought when he steps close, his arms are around me as he undoes the belt. The air in my lungs is frozen at how badly I want to press into him.

Stepping back, his smile is knowing. Searching for a way to hide from what he’s doing to me all over again, it hits me again. “Why don’t you allow women to touch you? And they never get to touch you?”

That eyebrow goes up as he snakes the belt back around his waist. “Because I fuck. Women are in my bed for my pleasure alone. I will always ensure they come—I am not a complete asshole. They deserve pleasure as well. However at the end, it is the end. I do not want them thinking I will call them again.”

“But you have called women again. There were a few women you went to events with more than once.” The words fly out of my mouth. Okay, yes, I looked at every photo I could find of him.

A small nod of concession. “Never in a row, never more than three times, and I never changed the rules of no touching and only fucking them from behind.”

I’m confused. I don’t understand.

“I do not want to look them in the eye. I do not kiss them. I do not eat them out. I do not want to hold them when it is over. I come, pull out and leave them.” A shoulder lifts. “Or once they can walk again they leave.”

“But you wouldn’t let me close my eyes and you said…” I mumble, hating the way my chest tightens at the thought of him with nameless women. I can’t bring myself to repeat what he said as he ran his finger over me, slick for him.

Both hands capture my face, tipping my eyes up to him. “Because the moment I met you I could not get enough of your beautiful eyes. And I have never wanted to taste a woman—both your mouth and your cunt—as badly as I want to taste you.”

Air is trapped in my lungs at what he could mean. Slowly he lowers his head. His phone ringing startles me in the quiet. No, I want to moan when he lets me go and pulls his phone from his pocket.

“What?”

The Russian that floods out of the phone is harsh and loud. Listening, he grunts. “V puti.”

Ending the call, he steps closer. “I have to go. I might not be back tonight for dinner. However, I will come home. If you need anything, you call me and you use the button for anything else.”

I nod at the order. A large hand catches the back of my neck, he leans down and presses his lips to mine. A gasp of surprise sends them open. Milos takes advantage, slipping fleetingly inside to taste my tongue before ending the kiss. Too soon, it’s over far too soon.

I can’t take my eyes off the way he licks his lips as if he wanted to taste me again.

I’m sitting stunned as he walks away. I thought he didn’t kiss?