Red Alpha: A BWWM Russian Alpha Billionaire Romance (12 page)

The contact of her lips was enough to make his stomach muscles contract almost painfully and one of Demyan’s hands came up to fist the profusion of soft curls upon her head. For the barest of moments, he let his eyes slide shut as Cadence’s mouth trailed over his collarbone, up to the place where his neck met his shoulder.

And there, she bit down.
Hard
.

“
Blyad
…” The word escaped him on a sharp hiss as his cock jumped against his fly, begging to be released.

His grip on her hair still firm, Demyan, turned the woman away from him, urging her down onto her stomach against the coverlet as she raised that delectable ass of hers into the air.

Now
here
was a beautiful sight to behold.

One devastatingly beautiful, dark-skinned American diplomat prostrate before him – something both more decadent and cruder than he might ever have imagined.

Without releasing her, Demyan quickly undid his pants with his free hand, aware that his body was all but screaming for satisfaction – that he take her rough and hard.

After all, by her own words, she didn’t fear him. Perhaps he might not have believed her was the proof not clinging sweetly to his tongue and her thighs, but Cadence gave no sign that his rough treatment harmed her in any way.

Which was heartening – as he wasn’t about to stop.

Demyan pressed one knee against the mattress between Cadence’s spread legs, forcing her to part even more for him and displaying her glistening womanhood properly. “Ah,
Kukla
…” He all but groaned, stroking his turgid length as he resisted the urge to put his mouth to her again – and to never relent. “You’re so
ready
for me.” When he rubbed the aching head of his erection against her lower lips, a breathy, desirous sigh escaped her and she nudged back against him as much as his grip on her hair would let her.

“Demyan…
please
…” The words escaped her on the barest whisper, making his thighs tense in anticipation of how tightly she could clench around him. “
Please
…”

With a wickedly satisfied chuckle, his hand connected with her thigh, the sharp
smack
echoing around the room and making her jump as she hissed at the sting. As quick as he had hit her, however, the Russian massaged her wounded flesh, soothing the pain away. “Please
what
?”

He felt her shudder at his inquiry. Usually, Demyan wasn’t nearly so crass. Sex was something that satisfied a basic need, and he liked to be quick and clean about it. But Cadence begged something more lingering – something more indulgent. He wanted her to submit to him – and the growling animal within him wouldn’t be satisfied until she did.

“
Fuck me
…”

He’d couldn’t remember the last time he’d so enthusiastically complied with something asked of him. He thrust home with a force that actually
did
draw a scream from her, his free hand curling tightly into her hip for leverage. For a split second, he was almost worried he might have hurt her. He was not a small man, and most everything was in proportion; but that doubt was alleviated the moment she pressed back against him demandingly, two low words escaping her.

“
Don’t stop
.”

Growling his assent, Demyan released her hair only to concentrate his firm hold on her hips as he proceeded to do exactly what she’d asked of him.

Though it was within his capacity, he wasn’t gentle. He was ruthless, his rhythm punishing as he took her. Every thrust cleaved so deep that she clawed desperately at the sheets beneath her and sobbed softly, but not once did she ask him to relent. Demyan, for his part, didn’t know if he would have been able to. She felt absolutely divine around him – like a hot, sweet vice drawing him in.

Demyan all but pounded her into the mattress, each powerful thrust shaking the bedframe – and she let him. She let him take out weeks of frustration, of need – of helpless
want
out on her willing form as he lost himself in her. Cadence gasped, she moaned, and she screamed his name – spasming around him when she came not once, but twice.

Upon her third foray into pleasure, however, the intricate clenching of her around him completely undid him. With a low grunt, Demyan thrust into her twice more before he exploded, flooding her body with his seed. As he climaxed, his hips continued to jerk almost reflexively, until he was completely and totally spent.

Exhaling hotly, he bowed over Cadence’s still form in exhaustion as he caught his breath, trying to come back to himself. It took a long minute, but finally, he slipped from her to lay on his side on the bed next to her prone form. While he recovered, he allowed himself an indulgent moment to look over her long, lovely form – the beads of sweat on her skin and her tangled hair. Cadence’s face was buried in the coverlet so he couldn’t read her expression, but her body appeared utterly boneless.

He’d been overbearing, he knew – but he wanted to show her what it was that she was supposed to fear. If she wasn’t frightened of being in Russia alone, of being amongst the most powerful and dangerous people in the country, then he couldn’t help but worry. Even if he knew it wasn’t his place. A small part of him had hoped his voracity might have sent her away screaming, but, of course, Cadence hadn’t fled.

Though she had certainly screamed herself hoarse.

The thought made his lips quirk slightly a moment before the young woman raised her head to look at him. When her dark eyes met his, he arched a brow, waiting for her to speak first.

Cadence sighed, tucking an arm under her head as she looked up at him. She lay on her side, exposing her mouthwatering breasts and he swallowed a groan. “What,” she finally managed, “Is so amusing?”

“Nothing at all.” He answered curtly, before his voice softened somewhat. It had been a long time since he’d stayed with a woman after to observe the product of his loving…and he found that he quite liked it. “You’re very beautiful, Cadence.”

The words escaped him before he could tell himself how improprietary they were; and at the compliment, the dark-skinned woman’s cheeks flushed slightly. “I think you might be slightly biased just now.” Almost self-consciously, she reached for the sheet to cover herself, only to have the Russian man catch her wrist before she could do such a thing.

“Don’t.” He commanded lowly, before releasing her to run a hand slowly from the curve of her waist over a strong thigh reverently. “Let me look at you.” To his pleasure, she complied. The American’s cheeks were still a healthy pink as she let Demyan’s hands roam where they would – over her thighs and belly – across her shoulders to the tip of one breast to circle a nipple lightly. By the time his gaze met hers again, he had forgotten that they should be getting back. Had forgotten that he would have to concoct excuses for Osip and that they would be missed. All Demyan knew was that he wanted her again. “Are you still chilled?” He inquired lowly, stroking his thumb over her kiss-swollen lower lip.

Cadence opened her mouth, seeming to hesitate for only the barest moment before she answered. “A little.”

And that was all Demyan needed to hear.

“Nothing. You mean to tell me you have absolutely
nothing
to report?”

At director Cresseda’s irate tone, Cadence did her best not to flinch. It was useless, she knew, as the director could sense weakness even from thousands of miles away – and even across and encrypted line. Nonetheless, she was standing at a payphone just outside a discotheque close to Moscow’s city center, freezing her ass off as she tried to appease her superior.

“Trust me, Ma’am, if I had any news I would have divulged it to you immediately.” The young woman sighed, her breath frosting on the frigid air. “Nothing more than a few girls in and out of the Kremlin who might or might not be there against their will, a few concealed weapons, man talk, and fumbling politics. I’ve been listening like a hawk, and the Minister hasn’t let a
single thing-”

“And what about Boykov?” At the elder woman’s curt question, Cadence’s mouth snapped shut abruptly as her cheeks flamed. For a moment, she floundered for words, unsure of how to safely proceed. “
Freedman
?”

“He’s…not saying much either.”

That was about as much as she could divulge without making herself look like a complete and total idiot. Truth be told, in the past weeks, Demyan had told her plenty – just none of it what she needed to know, and most if it while they were intimate. It was hard enough trying to keep her poker face when she wasn’t supposed to understand Russian on a daily basis, but when he whispered to her in
bed
….Christ, it all but undid her.

“According to our intelligence, there’s some friction between Boykov and Danshov. Their families have a somewhat…sordid past history. I want to you push the envelope. Get close to him. See what you can find out.”

Closer than she already
was
?

Admittedly, she and Demyan were far from the toast of Moscow. They had to be discreet, lest they risk his sister, Lichakov, or even Danshov himself finding out what they were doing; but she didn’t know how much closer she could get to the man without blowing her cover. There had been a few times when she’d lain against him after they’d been together, knowing how idiotic she was being and simultaneously melting as the man whispered the equivalent of Russian sweet nothings in her ear.

He was a ravenous lover, she’d discovered. Of course, that had been after he had ravished her to within an inch of her life in that hotel room. Even now, three weeks later, the memory was enough to make her warm between the legs.

While she was talking to
Cresseda
no less.

“I’ll do what I can.”

“You’d better. I swear to all that’s holy, Freedman, if I find you’re keeping something from me having to do with Alessia, I’ll yank you so fast that curly head of yours will spin.”

The young woman suppressed a groan. She couldn’t get a break – not even when she was technically just doing what she was
supposed
to be doing.

Well, apart from fucking Demyan. She wasn’t supposed to be doing
that
.

“Understood, ma’am.”

“Good.” Cresseda barked with soul-crushing finality. “I expect to hear back from you in five days. And I’m sure I don’t need to remind you, Freedman, that you only have four weeks left. And your continuation in my unit is contingent upon the result of this assignment.”

So if she didn’t get the intel, she was fired. That part was crystal clear. Cadence wondered if Alessia had ever faced such pressure. Almost certainly not. She had been a better agent – and she hadn’t been suspected of revenge-plotting during her assignment.

“Of course.” The phone clicked in her ear almost as soon as she’d replied and Cadence stared at the receiver a moment before hanging up. In the background, the sound of revelry and drinking juxtaposed completely with the sinking feeling in her stomach as she struggled to come to terms with the situation she found herself in.

A single month left in Moscow, and Osip Danshov’s lips were still sealed tight. Not that the man minded letting his mouth flap on matters of state if he felt it made him look good. Anything from economic policies to the rising GDP was fair game in front of her, and in perfect English. To be honest, Cadence was slightly tired of pretending to go along with the charade. She knew very well that, despite the rising Russian GDP and several game-changing economic policies, the Russian people were still suffering. She saw it every time she ventured outside of the city center with Demyan to discover more of the city.

Funnily enough, she had seen enough signs of the friction Cresseda spoke of to be more than aware of its existence. Every time Osip spoke of a tax hike as if it were beneficial to society, or sought to fund another hugely extravagant state dinner, Demyan’s expression went carefully blank. The few times that he attended cabinet meetings, he trained his mouth into a thin line that anyone with eyes could see conveyed disapproval – but, of course, Danshov was untouchable.

Especially to someone like Demyan, who was supposed to be in his inner circle.

Was
in his inner circle, whatever his reluctance might be.

Since the first time they’d been together, Cadence had been busily trying to crack the complex nut that was the Russian aristocrat, but, emotionally, Demyan remained somewhat of a mystery to her. He had seemed secretive from the moment she’d arrived in Moscow, and despite the fact that the man was a very
giving
lover, he only gave his body.

Little else.

Demyan wasn’t one for pillow talk after sex. While he would run his hands over her bare body and comment on how beautiful she was, he never spoke of himself or the issues that so obviously plagued him.

When Cadence wasn’t in the Kremlin or out in the Russian streets, she’d taken to wandering around the Boykov manor, which was decorated with images from their family history and priceless Russian artwork. Though the young woman had long memorized the floor plan of the immense penthouse, it seemed as if every day she came across something she wasn’t certain she’d seen before – a secret nook or a bronzed statue depicting some scene from a renaissance period. Every so often, she encountered a painting that glorified the many wars the Soviet Union had taken part of – and they always made her wince. They served as a constant reminder of why she’d come to Russia.

What she was meant to prevent.

The dark-skinned woman wasn’t sure, but
Demyan
didn’t quite seem like the type to revel in bloodshed. Not that he couldn’t execute it when he had to; a man of his size carried a certain quiet power – the kind that was deadly when unleashed. But innate violence?

No. That seemed more like Elisaveta’s style.

While Demyan was almost withdrawn on a day to day basis, keeping to himself in his office unless his services were required, Elisaveta stalked around the city as if ready to decapitate anyone who uttered an untoward word about the minister. She made no attempt to hide her nigh uncontrollable temper, and though Minister Danshov had once mentioned to Cadence that the reputation of those closest to him was of the utmost importance to him, Veta didn’t seem to give two goddamns what people thought of her.