Captive of the Hitman: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance Novel (23 page)

I
don’t get
to Manhattan much anymore, and I like to keep it that way. Ever since I lost everything I had, I’ve hated seeing all those people going in and out of the high end stores as if it were just something they casually did for fun.

Walking out with bags and bags of clothes that cost more than my yearly rent? Yes, it makes me jealous.

So when I get off the subway at 57th Street, I’m already feeling a little uncomfortable. Dimitri acts like this is the easiest thing in the world, just walking into a store and having a personal shopper pick out lavish outfits for me, but this isn’t a part of my life anymore.

And, unlike Carolyn from that TV show, I don’t really long to go back to that world of high society.

The buildings tower around me, juice and cigars and espresso bars lining the streets, each giving off a fragrant aroma that mingle with the smell of car exhaust.

I match the quick pace of the other pedestrians, staring straight ahead, lost in thought. What have I gotten myself into? It’s one thing to try to work and earn this money, but just having Dimitri give it to me like this is cheap.

But it’s not like he’s just my step-brother any more. That ship has sailed, I guess. We don’t even have any parents left binding us together, and after last night...

What does that make us? Lovers?

Or just steps with benefits?

It’s not like I haven’t wanted and dreamed of it for a long time. Even before our ill-fated attempt when I was eighteen, I was spying on him and crushing on him hard. Snapping pictures of him in the buff when I really, really shouldn’t have.

And now what am I thinking? When he’s stealing from his own company and involved with Slava again? I know he’s dangerous as hell, so why am I so attracted to him, and willing to spend his ill-gotten cash?

Because he told you to, and you don’t say ‘no’ to a man like that.

But I’ve said no to him twice, and he’s respected it both times.

I’m shaken from my reverie by a tall, broad shouldered man passing by me too close, knocking my arm. I latch onto my purse, fear jolting through me, and I glance over my shoulder but the sun is in my eyes and I can’t make him out.

At least he never stole my purse.

I quickly slink into Bergdorf Goodman, smiling at the greeter before heading down to the beauty floor. It’s a guilty pleasure still, and I can’t afford any of my old favorites that dad used to get me. If I’m going to treat myself, it’s going to start here, without a personal shopper looming.

The sales associate glances at me, giving me a smile before veering off to help someone else and I let out a sigh of relief. The music, the gorgeous decorations, the atmosphere... it’s all so familiar and strange to me at the same time. Like I’m an intruder on a world that isn’t mine anymore.

Opium perfume
hides behind one of the glass cases, and instantly I can smell it, brought back to my thirteenth birthday and the beautiful gifts from my dad. Among the presents was that perfume. As he said it, I was now a lady and should smell like one.

I smile, the memory bittersweet, and inhale deeply before heading towards the nearest sales associate.

“Hey, I’m looking for Natasha?”

The curly hair brunette smiles the biggest smile I’d ever seen, offering out her hand.

“You found her! Who do I have the pleasure of meeting?”

She’s so formal, but chipper at the same time, and instantly I’m set at ease.

“Sarah. Hey. My br—”
Don’t introduce him as your brother, Sarah,
I chide myself. “Dimitri Brokov recommended you to me, said you could help me find a few things?”

Her eyes light up, dimples appearing in her cheeks.

“Of course! Where are we starting? The perfume you were eyeing?”

I flush, having not realized I was being watched, but I nod anyways.

“To start, yea. My dad... that was my first perfume. I haven’t worn it in a while.”

“Well I’m sure it’d be like putting on an old glove,” she says before retrieving it, along with about a dozen samples. “Anything else? You’d look amazing in
Femme Rouge Velvet Creme Lipstick
.”

I look at the color, and even though red is not my usual, I give her a nod. If Dimitri wants to see his money drained, it’s definitely going to happen with Natasha at my side. “And I guess, like, a smoky eye set? I don’t really have a lot of makeup at home other than eyeliner and mascara, and both are running dry.”

A few minutes later, and I have enough makeup to last me years, and she’s guiding me up towards the gowns.

“It has to be really nice,” I say. “Black, something... I mean, it can’t be scandalous.”

She giggles, and sizes me up. “Sure, hun. I can definitely work with the sleek and elegant look. Especially with those red lips and that platinum hair. Black will be really striking against your milky skin too. What size are you? 4?”

Oh, she’s good.

“Yea.”

“And about... 5’4”?”

“5’3”.”

“Okay, we’ll likely need to hem it up a little, but that’s fine. Oh, did you want me to grab you some champagne? We might be here a while.”

* * *

I
t’s
like having a sea of clothing just washing over me, held up to my chest and quickly discarded. It’s not that they’re not nice — they are — they’re just not me.

Natasha, however, is being really sweet and not seeming annoyed with me in the slightest, which is a relief. I take another sip of the champagne as she flicks through another rack of designer dresses.

“So how long have you known Dimitri?” she asks, giving me a look that tells me she knows, well... She knows he sent me to get some fancy and expensive clothes, so I must be someone of note.

“A few years.” I don’t really want to get into this. I’ve been trying to remain blissfully unthinking about the fact that we just slept together and I have no idea what that means.

“Oh? He started coming in here a year or two ago, and he’s always been exceptionally generous.”

“Is that so?”

“Sure. Always knows what he wants, but always makes sure to grab me so I can get my commission. I helped him the first time he came in and since then he’s always taken care of me. Between you and I, he’s the reason why management likes me so much.”

I smile, but inwardly I’m shocked at how much he must spend here to make such an impact, especially with all the other celebs and famous families who shop here.

“What’s he like with you?” I blurt out before I can stop myself. Why did I say that?

“With me? Oh, there’s nothing funny going on, if that’s what you're asking,” she says with a giggle as she gathers a couple of black dresses and brings them over to me. “Always the perfect gentleman.”

“Has he brought another woman here?” Okay, now I know I’ve had too much champagne. Do I even want to know?

Though the fact that she doesn’t hesitate does buoy my spirits.

“Not even once. I was surprised to hear he was the one to send you. He always comes, gets his suits, then takes off. Not a big talker, but really charming. I was starting to think, well, you know...”

I quirk a brow, and she shakes her head, holding up one of the black dresses towards me.

“What about this one?”

I glance over it, and aside from the ruffles at the high neck, it looks like a normal, black dress to me. I shrug, and she puts aside the other ones.

“This one would look great, I think. Very formal and yet really fun at the same time.
Alexander McQueen
, so you know it’s good quality and will last you forever, and with the slit up the thigh, it’s not too stuffy.”

It looks nice enough, so I smile at her.

“Sure, I’ll try it on,” I say, though honestly, I’m just so exhausted and want to find
something
suitable. Anything. I don’t even know how I’m going to manage the energy to shop for more casual clothes after all this.

The dressing room we’re in is, well, massive. Not like those claustrophobic things at the department stores. This one reminds me of a powder room Rebecca would have. A whole lot of space to move and breath.

I move behind the divider as Natasha opens the glass and lifts the receiver of the black telephone, ordering another glass of champagne. She must be able to tell I’m flagging, and probably a lot less excited than a woman with a man buying her an expensive gown should be.

It’s not that I’m not grateful, I just don’t know that I belong in this world anymore. But this is Dimitri’s world.

So maybe it’s really him I’m uncertain on.

I zip up the back of the dress, and look in the lit up three-way mirror, and suddenly all my fears have disappeared. I’m not a vain person, but I actually look really amazing in this! It’s sleeveless, and with a high collar with ruffled material along my throat, giving it a regal kind of look. It nips in at my waist, and the slit in the skirt comes up to my thigh.

It’s just the right mix of sexy and classic, just like Natasha had promised. She comes alongside and beams at me.

“Oh my God. I know just the shoes for that, too. With the red lipstick and... Will you be wearing a bracelet? You’d probably want something simple, diamonds or something,” she says as she moves behind me, hands brazenly on my hips as she soothes out a crease. “And what did I tell you about your silhouette, huh? Makes you look like a nymph!”

I laugh, and just simply nod along with her barrage of suggestions. If she can pick out this dress, I’m sure she can finish the look off.

“Dimitri won’t be able to keep his hands off you,” she promises, and I damn the perfect lighting in here because it makes my blush even more transparent.

“We’ll see,” I say, sidestepping the fact that I don’t even know if he’s going to see me in it.

Natasha scurries off and a few moments’ later returns with a pair of the most elegant shoes I’ve ever seen. They look more like jewelry than they do high heels.

In her other hand is another glass of champagne, which I once again eagerly accept.

“Those are beautiful,” I say, and already I feel bad. This stuff is going to cost a fortune, but now I really want it. I make my way to the zebra striped ottoman, sitting down on it as she helps me on with the shoes.

“These are
Manolo Blahnik
,” she says, and I remember the label well. “It’s a crystal front and buckle, and with the light padding inside, it should help you stay on your feet all night, even with the four inch heel.”

I stand up and, even though I’m not used to stilettos anymore, they are actually really comfortable. And damn, they look great with this dress.

“Aren’t they gorgeous? That man is a
God
when it comes to ladies shoes.”

“They’re amazing,” I say back with real surprise. I was not expecting to find anything I liked, let alone loved. I look at my reflection in the mirror, and it’s like seeing a different person. Someone older, more classy and refined. It’s a reflection I can get used to.

“You look
to-die-for
,” she says and usually I think it would be over the top if I didn’t actually kind of agree.

“You really think Dimitri will like it?”

“Oh honey, have you seen yourself? You’re gorgeous, and probably one of the sweetest customers I’ve served all year,” she says, her voice going low and a bit more confidential despite the privacy of our room. “And seriously... stick with him. He has a good heart, I can tell. He doesn’t love often, but he loves fully, to hear him talk of it.”

I stare into my blue eyes and let myself feel excited at her words. Maybe what we have is something special after all.

“He also suggested... I get some more every day clothes,” I say casually and her eyes light up with enthusiasm.

It’s going to be a long afternoon.

“
H
oly fuck
, Sarah.”

I look at Dimitri, suddenly feeling very self-conscious. I know the dress isn’t my usual, but I still wasn’t expecting to see that fire in his eyes.

I might be inexperienced, but Dimitri’s desire was always something I could see. It’s like we’re connected in some primal way, and when he grabs my hip, primal is definitely the word.

“I don’t fucking want a single soul looking at you in this. No one but me should have that damn right.”

My heart races, especially when he grinds against my side and his growing erection presses into me. I’m all ready for the charity ball, but he’s weakening the small bit of desire in me to go. Maybe we should just give in, forget our mission to find the murderer. Leave it to the cops and just lose ourselves in passion over and over again.

How bad would it be to hide from the world like that?

My eyes meet his, and I know he’s thinking the same thing, and his mouth presses against mine instantly. He’s ravenous, hard, and gripping me with all his impressive strength. There’s no escaping, and I feel so delicate, but I like it.

I really like it.

It’s funny how everything got so much more complicated, and so much simpler, the second we finally gave into our base instincts.

His hand reaches towards the slit in the dress, pulling it away from my thigh. He’s exposing me, his fingers exploring between the softer, untouched flesh of my thighs, then probing inwards. He seeks out my feminine heat, and I gasp as he finds me pantiless.

He growls, his teeth nipping along my throat and up to my ear.

“This better be for me,” he warns, his voice so dark it sends a shiver down my spine.
Why does it turn me on?

“It is,” I whisper truthfully, and he rewards me by roughly petting my throbbing clit.

“I claimed you first. If I ever find out another man touches you...” His index and middle finger press inside of me, and I moan in pleasure, “You’ll be the last thing he ever fucking touches.”

A shiver travels down my spine, and suddenly I feel too hot, even though there’s a chill from the air conditioner. The mixed signals make his touch even more intense, and my knees begin to quiver.

What am I doing? Why am I so lost to a man like Dimitri?

He nips my ear, hard, and I gasp in shock.

“Do you hear me, Sarah?” he asks, his fingers stilling deep within me, not allowing me any bit closer to my own pleasure. My mind is fogged with lust and desire, and I fumble with my words as he bites my ear again.

“Yes,” I hiss.

“Yes, what, Sarah?”

“No one else will touch me.”

“And why’s that?”

I gulp, my heart hammering in my ribs, his breath washing over my jawline.

“Because I don’t want them to.”

“Because you’re mine,” he corrects, and then his mouth smothers mine again, his fingers working faster between my slickened petals. I can’t believe we’re doing this so brazenly, as if it weren’t so damn wrong, but when he guides me to the bed, excitement swirls in my stomach rather than disgust.

The bed presses against the back of my calves, and he topples me over onto the plush sheets. His fingers withdraw and he looks down on me, a storm within his eyes. I don’t know what he’s thinking about, but I know the spark between us hasn’t diminished at all since our first time.

If anything, it’s ignited into a more fiery flame.

“You are so fucking gorgeous,” he says as his gaze trails down over my body. I’m half clad, the long skirt pushed aside to expose my legs and sex, my torso still held snuggly in the expensive, black fabric. I’m worried about destroying the dress, but he doesn’t seem to care at all.

As if having sex with me was way more important than the thousands of dollars of his money I just spent on this outfit.

“You’re going to go to that party with the memory of me on top of you,” he promises as his hand goes to his belt. It’s almost a threat, how slowly he unwinds it, his tongue dabbing his lower lip thoughtfully. “I’m never going to let you go again, Sarah. Do you know what that means?”

I nod, even though I don’t. I have a feeling I barely know this man at all. The depths of what he can do, the things he has done since I was kicked out...

He’s the most dangerous man I know, the one man I shouldn’t be with, but as he strips off his shirt, my eyes are immediately drawn to his hard, ribbed form. Beneath the litany of tattoos, and the slight sheen of perspiration, Dimitri is perfect.

And when he puts his weight on top of me, my inner thighs parted by his strong hands, I’m lost to heaven.

“Pretty soon,” he murmurs before biting my lower lip and tugging it outwards, “you’re going to know what it really feels like for me to fuck you.”

The lower side of his cock presses against my pussy, and mixed with his words, another erotic shock goes through me. I grind against him eagerly, my mind lost to passion as my hands squeeze his muscular biceps.

“Once all this shit is over with, I’m going to make you scream so loud we’ll get the cops called on us. You’ll beg,” he marks the word with a kiss upon my cheek, “and cry,” another kiss, lower, “and plead for more.” Finally his mouth finds mine at the exact moment that he spears me, silencing my moan of delight.

He’s so big, his entire body weight pressing down on me as he wastes no time in beginning to thrust. I’m already so turned on that it’s made a lot easier, and when he brings his finger to my clit, I’m in heaven.

I’ve wanted him for so long, and it’s even better than I could’ve ever fantasized about. Even better than my first time with him, if only because it doesn’t hurt quite so much.

Instead of fretting about the anxieties of my first time, I get to enjoy it fully. I can watch his hard, corded muscle over me, working like a well-oiled metal machine, whose sole focus and purpose was to piston that gloriously large cock into me.

I’m splayed open by his passions, my knees pulled back wide, my soft, puffy petals sundered and stretched around his veiny, throbbing girth. I try to hold onto something, but the bed won’t do as he picks up pace and everything is heaving and jumbled. So I do the only thing I can: I cling to him, let my fingernails dig into his shoulders.

“Still so damn tight,” he growls out, as the sounds of his hard body pressing into my softer, more feminine form grow louder and louder with his rising tempo. I feel like I’m melting beneath him, every little thing he does making flesh and bone turn to warm, molten lust for him in return.

He kisses me hard upon the lips, and it feels so passionate, so loving. The perfect counterpoint to how our loins mingle in rampant, shameless fucking. The hammering of his cock, the circling of his finger at my sensitive clit.

His tongue dances with mine as sparks begin to grow within me. A tingle rises from my sex into my torso before spreading to my limbs, like every part of me is being awakened by his body.

Everything feels more intense; every rub of his body against mine, the feel of the fabric against my stomach and chest. He growls my name against my tongue as he spreads my legs wider, fucking me deeper than before. Each thrust makes me squeak a little, but it feels so damned good!

Dimitri works me so masterfully; better than I had thought a man would, after all the disappointing tales from women I know. About how their experiences with men were too short, too painful, too long and unsatisfying.

No, he brings me so close to the edge within so little time with the dual thrusting of his cock and the machinations of his devious fingers. But just as I feel that coiling fire rise up in me, he pulls his hand away. He leaves a wet trail along my hip until he grasps my ass beneath, letting his powerful fingers sink into that fleshy mound as he keeps me perched upon the edge. Agonizingly. Heavenly.

He spares a look down between us, to watch the sight of his shaft, gleaming with my honey, sliding back out of me, labia clinging to me, right before he thrusts it back inside me.

“I’m never letting you go now,” he growls through his lust-filled breaths, licking at his lips so hungrily.

He tastes as amazing as he looks, and feels even better than that.

“I don’t want to leave you,” I practically purr back, and I mean it with every fiber of my being. I know he’s into some dangerous stuff, and all of his promises of darkness to come excite me rather than turn me away. I long for more.

He rewards me for my devotion by making not only my whole body quake with his renewed lusts, but the bed as well. Each hammer blow of his dick into me making the expensive bed creak and shake despite its quality make. My body seems to reverberate with the blows he lands upon me. I can feel the force ripple out through me, across my chest. And greedy for it, he reaches behind me, unzipping my dress.

He treats the expensive fabric as if it’s nothing more than a mild hindrance in his way of getting what he wants.

I don’t have time or the inclination to stop him as he yanks it from around my arms, pulling it down to let my breasts spill out and jiggle before his very eyes.

“Gorgeous,” he growls at me, ogling my chest before he grasps a hold of one fleshy mound tightly, letting his fingers sink into the supple flesh. “Such perfect tits…”

I arch my back into him, the garment now wrapped around my stomach, leaving me wholly exposed to his wandering hands. He squeezes gently at first, slowing his thrusting only enough to pay reverence to my chest before both his grip and his thrusting grow harsher.

I’m precariously on the edge of orgasm, and when his finger and thumb pinch and tease my stiffened nipple, I swear I’m about to come. But then he denies me again, leaving me panting and wanting for more as he takes my full tit into his hand and massages it.

Those tightly grasping hands of his, strong enough to break a man’s neck, were put to use fondling my tits, and groping at my thighs and hips. He wasn’t rutting at me like some horny man out to bust his load and be done with it. He was claiming my flesh, inch by inch, reveling in my body for all it was worth. And he capped it off with another rough kiss to my lips, thrusting his tongue into my mouth as his muscular body continued to piston into me.

“
Bozhe Moi
!” he curses in Russian as he lurches back up, our lips popping apart. A shudder runs through his hard, ripped body as he lets loose of my breast and takes hold of both my hips. “On your knees,” he commands in a gravelly husk of a voice.

I obey.

Instinctively, I want to. Need to. Whether it’s that thin layer of warning lacing his voice, or just the fact that every bit of my body is crying for more, I quickly reposition myself to his liking.

But when he presses into me again, he goes deeper than ever, I’m sent forward in my shock. He captures my hips, roughly tugging me back into place, and I dig my hands into the bed.

There is no escaping from his passions; he holds me in sway, that iron grip of his unbreakable. And now each new thrust of his hips means a loud slap of his hard body against my ass cheeks, making the flesh ripple with each new noisy smack.

“That’s my girl,” he growls approvingly, but to contradict his words, he cracks his palm against my ass cheek, a singular, loud impact that makes me gasp out, and then he follows it up with another.

It sends a jolt of pain through me, but the shiver that follows is anything but bad. Suddenly my nipples stiffen even more, the sensation almost uncomfortable as my legs spread and I take him in deeper.

I never could have imagined that his punishing me could feel so amazing.

Punishing? Is it still punishment when he just did it for the hell of it? As reward for me being good?

I’m not sure, but I’m getting light headed, clinging to the bedsheets as he takes control of me further, making me teeter upon my hands and knees. He’s like a freight train, and though his hard body glistens with a thin sheen of perspiration over his hard, stony muscles, he’s not tired, not even a little weary.

“It took too long for this,” he rasps out, rubbing my stinging ass cheek so threateningly. “But you were worth the pain.”

Every time he rams into me, an electric jolt sparks throughout me, and my body so desperately wants — needs — to come. It’s cruel to keep me on the edge like this, and yet...

I love it. I love how in control he is, and even when he denies me that ultimate pleasure, the buildup, the tension, is like a drug I can’t get enough of.

“Dimitri!”

His broad shoulders tense up, and all those gloriously toned muscles clench and bulge. He’s fighting the pleasure now, I realize, trying to savor me a while longer. But I don’t even know how much more I can stand!

“Sarah,” he growls out between his grinding teeth, and I feel his dick swell within me, straining the walls of my tightly clenching pussy. He’s a beast of a man, and those hands grasping my thighs still hold me in place, helping move me forward as his hips tug back, then pulling me in again as he thrusts forward.

“Oh God,” I curse under my breath, my head swimming with all the sensations. He feels so amazing, and even without him touching my clit, I can feel that pleasure mounting, getting ready to send me over the edge.

Our bodies are working in unison, both of us so needy for release, for that ultimate form of bliss. Even knowing how close I am, though, doesn’t prepare me for when it finally strikes me, fast and furious as he begins to pound into me as hard as he can.

I’m a writhing, twitching mess as he hammers into me, but he lets loose such a lion’s roar that it quakes the decorations upon the wall. He’s a furious font as he ploughs in harder and fast, spurting his creamy seed as he strikes my ass cheek, makes me gasp out amid my own climax, then reaches in around to torture my over stimulated clit.

It’s all so much — too much! — but he’s driving us both to our limits as he pounds in, spurting stream after stream of creamy seed into me. Both of us being milked for every moment of pleasure, every droplet of thick come and every gush of warm honey.

The pleasure lingers forever and fades too fast, all at once, and I’m left a quivering, mewling mess. He thrusts into me a few more times, slower now, lazier, just drawing out the last of our bliss and sending another aftershock through me until he finally withdraws.