Owned By The Bratva King by Jagger Cole

10

Yuri

She’s stunningwhen she’s awake. She’s angelic when she’s sleeping. I sit quietly at the edge of her bed, watching as her bare chest slowly rises and falls. Moonlight gleams in through the windows, bathing her porcelain skin and pale pink nipples in a soft glow.

My eyes slide lower, across the slim lines of her waist and swell of her hips—also bare for me. My gaze centers at the prize between her thighs, and I can feel my cock surge with desire. Her pussy is still flushed and swollen from my mouth. I can still taste her sweetness on my tongue and lips.

Dinner was… brief. I’m not even sure we made it past the first course or glass of wine before the surging heat between us grew too strong. Before I kissed her, and almost had her right there over the cafe table on my private deck.

But though part of me does very much want to claim her—to push my swollen cock deep in her virgin cunt and mark her as my own—I held back. Part of it is this goddamn “deal” with Semyon. But a larger part is that while I do wish to claim her, I won’t like that. Not bent over a dining table.

Instead, somehow, we managed to make it to her quarters. Here, I ripped her clothes back off, pushed her down across the bed, and devoured her whole; relentlessly. I’ve spent the last hour and a half between her thighs, to the point where she’s literally just passed out.

I grin hungrily as my eyes sweep over her bared body and gorgeously innocent face. My cock surges again, and I’m tempted to wake her up with my mouth back between her legs. Or with my cock slipping between her soft, pouty lips.

But the buzzing of my phone in my pocket pulls my attention. I scowl as I take it out. When I glance at the name, my jaw grits.

Quietly, I slip out of River’s bedroom. I let myself out onto the glassed-in deck off her living quarters before I answer the phone.

“Da.”

“You’ve been a bad boy, Yuri,” the voice chuckles with a wheezing laugh. My mouth thins to a line. It’s Petya, the oligarch that both Semyon and I do business with. The man whose office we held our meeting at as neutral ground. Clearly, he’s been made aware of the… situation between Semyon and I.

“Have I now?” I smile thinly, playing along.

Petya chuckles. “You know you have, Yuri. I am told you’ve taken something that belonged to Semyon?”

I roll my eyes. “Is that what he’s told you? Coming to you like a child crying to his mother?”

Petya laughs. He might be soft from his lavish life of wealth, privilege, and political connections. But he’s not an imbecile like Semyon.

Petya likes to fancy himself a Rockefeller or a Carnegie. He likes to imagine himself as this wealthy blessing to the masses—a man whose name will be on college libraries and city squares.

And yet JD Rockefeller and Andrew Carnegie didn’t get their start pimping girls, running street gangs, and cracking skulls.

Petya Gagarina, as with most of the now nigh-untouchable Russian oligarchs, wasn’t born rich, or cultured, or politically connected. He was down in the dirt with the rest of us—a Bratva-connected thug hustling on the streets. What separates the bratva kingpins like me from the oligarchs like Petya is simply timing and connections.

When the Soviet Union fell, there was a mad scramble amongst connected criminal and political figures for treasures it left behind. Under the USSR, most major industries were State owned. When that fell apart, they were all up for grabs. And these connected men made sure it was them and theirs who reaped the rewards.

Oil fields, oil refineries, pipelines, construction warehouses and equipment, airfields, factories… all of it was up for grabs. By law, it was all going to be put on auction. Only these sly fucks were the ones in charge of where and when those auctions happened. Like any greedy corrupt criminal class, they made sure every single one of these auctions were announced last minute, and held in remote areas of Siberia where they and their friends happened to already be situated. And lo and behold, a whole new generation of overnight billionaires, including my country’s current president, was self-created through theft.

I’m not mad about it. I’m just impressed. Perhaps even a little jealous that my father didn’t have the right connections to be a part of that crew of bandits. I might be absurdly wealthy from my crimes. But Petya and the rest of them have more money than even Silicon Valley CEOs would know what to do with.

“If by ‘something that belonged to him’, he means a girl who had no interest in him, who he’d planned on kidnapping and marrying like a Crusader King, then yes, I did.”

“You killed some of his men, da?”

My jaw grinds. “His men shot their way onto a boat full of well-known American models and fashion photographers,” I mutter. “I would hardly say he has the moral high ground here.”

Petya groans and swears under his breath. “I don’t like getting in the middle of petty squabbles, Yuri,” he sighs.

“All due respect,” I mutter. “But I see no need for you to get in the middle of any of this.”

“Ahh, and yet, here I am; Semyon bleating in one of my ears, you telling me something else in the other.”

I roll my eyes. “If Semyon is having trouble getting laid, that is his problem. Not mine. Certainly not yours—”

“Yuri,” Petya groans. “Yuri, Yuri, Yuri. It does not matter. This is all bad for business, for all of us, yes? Semyon wanted this woman, and you are using her to… to what, to shake him down?”

I shrug. “Perhaps.”

“Yuri!” He sighs heavily. “This is what I am talking about! If the both of you go to war, that is very not good for my interests, now is it?”

I narrow my eyes. “No,” I grunt.

“So then, it seems I’m forced to be in the middle of this. And as such, I am forced to help smooth this arrangement out. To bury the hatchet, as they say.”

I’m tempted to tell Yuri I’m more than happy to bury any hatchet of his choosing as far up Semyon’s ass as I can get it. But I hold myself back.

“She’s a person, Petya,” I mutter. “Not a fucking business arrangement or contract term.”

“And yet, that is exactly how it seems you are using her, nyet?”

I scowl.

“Listen, Yuri. I am having a party tomorrow night at my villa in Nessebar. I would like if you and Semyon would come, and we can sit down like men and fix this.”

“Fine,” I mutter.

“Excellent. And of course…” he smirks. “Feel free to bring this Helen of Troy, da?”

“Da,” I grunt.

“Oh, and I’ve been meaning to tell you. I’m getting into the movie business.”

My brow furrows. “Okay?”

“By investing in your daughter’s production company!”

My jaw ticks. My eyes narrow dangerously.

“Excuse me?”

“Belle! Her production company has been sourcing outside investment to expand and take on new projects. I heard about it, and I love her movies, so I think, this will be a good place for my money, no?”

No. The answer is a hard, edged “fuck no.” I like Petya well enough. He’s a good businessman, he knew my father, and he’s always been good to me with our deals, with no bullshit. But… these are two very different parts of my life. And I don’t like the idea of them mixing like this.

“Petya…”

“Yuri, I get it. This is why I tell you like this, man-to-man. My movie business with her and my regular business with you are two different worlds. I promise you. They will not overlap or mix, ever. You have my word. And this is because her financials are good, Yuri. Not because she is Volkov blood, da?”

“Da,” I grunt. I still don’t like it. But I shake it off. “Thank you for telling me, Petya.”

“I will see you at the party?”

“You will.”

“Good,” he chuckles. “Good.”

I end the call, and I frown as I look out over the dark ocean. And once again, my worlds are blurring at the edges that should be firm. With Belle and my Bratva business partner. With having Belle’s friend as my bargaining chip that I don’t even want to be a bargaining chip.

And now with Petya getting involved with my friction with Semyon. Again, I am at this impasse. On the one side, this is business. It always has been. It’s the very reason I stopped Semyon’s men that day and took her for myself.

I did not take her to be my plaything. I didn’t take her to be my captive little kitten, or to have her spread naked before me for me to devour her sweet little pussy like a last meal. I took her to conduct business. I took her as leverage; a bargaining chip, to get what I want from a rival.

That’s it. That is the only vector involving her that should concern me: how to make sure I eviscerate Semyon in negotiations, since I have what he wants.

And yet, when I play through those negotiations, my blood curdles. The idea of giving her to him, or letting him get his hands on her in any way makes me see red. It makes me want to kill him rather than let him even look at her.

But there’s my problem: reaching across a conference table and choking Semyon to death won’t exactly help with our business negotiations. And as powerful as I may be, I can’t ignore Petya’s own importance. I am not necessarily beholden to him. But the Volkov Bratva does need his business and connections.

With a growl, I whirl and storm back into River’s quarters. I walk back to her bedroom, and over to where she’s still naked and sleeping across the bed. The animal fury burning in me from my conversation with Petya is like fuel on a fire. It makes me want to tear my clothes off, push her legs apart, and plunge my swollen cock into her little pink pussy.

I groan as my eyes sweep over her. My jaw grinds as I inhale deeply.

I must be strong—stronger than I have been around her so far. I need to get myself in line and keep my eye on what is important here. I need to look past the tempting little distraction laid out before me.

I have an empire to run. I have a bratva throne to command that has stood proud and resilient through generations; since there was a fucking Tsar sitting in Moscow.

I pull myself away from River as I quickly draw the sheet over her.

She is not “mine.” She is not my prize, or my weakness. Because she cannot be. She is my leverage, and nothing more.

A king does not crave his pawn. Not ever.

“We’re going to a party.”

River looks up at me from the sofa she’s sitting on in the library. She’s wearing a dangerously, flirtatiously short little skirt and a strappy top. There are books strewn all around her, and one open in her lap.

She frowns. “Excuse me?”

“A party. Surely you’ve been to one.”

She rolls her eyes. But I like the little smirk I see her try and hide on her lips. She glances back to me. Her frown furrows when she spots the white garment bag in my hands.

“What is that?”

I unzip it, revealing the gleaming, glittering, slinky Valentino gown inside. River’s brows raise.

“I need you to wear this.”

Her brows knit. Her eyes narrow on the gown and then slide up to me. “Why?”

“Because I need you looking irresistible.”

Her mouth purses as a shadow crosses her face. “Why,” she says dryly.

“You know why.”

Her eyes narrow. “So you can use me like a negotiating chip.”

My mouth thins.

“That’s why, right?”

I drape the open dress bag over the back of a leather chair and turn to leave. “Be ready at seven.”

“I won’t be.”

I pause in the doorway. My jaw grits as my brow furrows deeply. I turn to glance at her over my shoulder. “What did you say?”

“You heard me.”

I growl as I turn to her fully. “No, I don’t believe I did.”

River smiles sarcastically. She stands and walks over to casually browse a shelf of older first editions.

“I said no, I won’t be; ready at seven, I mean.” She turns to shrug at me. “Or any time after that, actually. I’m not going.”

She turns back to the books. But she jumps as I snarl and storm over to her. She gasps, whirling to meet me as I loom over her, all but pinning her to the bookshelves with my body. She trembles, her eyes heated and wide.

“What was that?” I snap.

“That was a no…” She smirks. “No, sir,” she mutters sarcastically.

My temper surges. But then, it fades. I see the little glint in her eyes, and suddenly, I know what this is. I smile thinly.

“I’m not falling for this.”

River blushes. “Falling for what?”

“Your bait,” I grunt.

She glares back at me. “My what?”

“The bait,” I mutter again. “As in, I think you’re beginning to like when I punish you for being a little brat. And you’re baiting me. Provoking me.”

Her cheeks burn hotly. But she swallows it back.

“Or you just like lording power over—”

“I would quit while you’re ahead,” I snap.

River’s face burns hotly. Her teeth drag nervously over her plump bottom lip in a tantalizing way. But I manage to yank my desires back into check as I turn to leave.

“Be ready at seven—”

“Make me.”

So much for pulling my desires into check. Two words. Just two words from her pretty, bratty mouth, and I snap. I whirl, and River gasps, whimpering as I storm into her and grab her wrist. I turn and yank her after me towards the couch. I sit in the middle of it on the edge, and River moans when I yank her across my lap.

My pulse thuds in my ears. My skin burns with a need for her. My cock surges, thickening between my thighs as her lithe, tempting young body drapes across my legs. Without any hesitation, I suddenly grab the hem of her little skirt and yank it up high.

River gasps sharply, and I can feel her body tensing against my thighs. My eyes slide over the smooth, bare skin of her tight little ass, split down the middle with a little black thong. She whips her head over her shoulder, her eyes bulging from their sockets as her cheeks burn hotly.

“What the fuck are you—”

My hand comes down with a sharp, loud smack across her ass. If her eyes weren’t popping out before, they sure are now.

“What the fuck?!” She squirms, kicking and thrashing as if she might get away. She won’t. I pin her fast with one strong arm across her back. The other I raise high. And before she knows it, my open palm comes spanking down across her ass again.

River squeals. Her breath leaves her body, and I swear to God, I hear her moan. I groan, my cock throbbing rock-hard against her stomach as I bring my hand up and spank her ass again. The tight little globes jiggle tantalizing. This time, she fucking moans. Her eyes close, her mouth falls open, and a moan whimpers out of her lips.

My cock surges rock-hard.

I move from one cheek to the other, spanking her until her ass is red and throbbing. Until my cock is about to tear a hole through my pants. I can feel how wet she is, too. I can feel the slick, hot heat from between her legs against my thigh.

I groan as I grab her thong in my fingers and yank it down to mid-thigh. She whimpers, arching her back as she moans for me. I spank her ass again, this time lingering and gripping the taut muscle in my strong hands. I spread her lewdly open for my hungry eyes. And I groan as my gaze drifts over her glistening pink slit and her tight little asshole.

“Bad girl,” I snarl. She whimpers eagerly.

“Look how fucking wet you are when you’re across my knee like this,” I hiss. I swat her ass again, and she moans. But this time, I let my hand linger again. I stroke her tender skin before my hand slips between her thighs. River whimpers, clinging to me as my fingers stroke her slick, smooth lips.

All I know is lust. All I feel is the pure desire for this girl throbbing in my veins. My fingers stroke her little pussy before I spread her open even more. I sink a finger into her, making her moan. I stroke it in and out, rubbing against her g-spot inside as she trembles for me.

She’s so wet that it’s leaking over my fingers and soaking into my pants leg. It just makes me even harder. I ease another finger alongside the first. River cries out in pleasure as I start to stroke them against her g-spot. My thumb starts to rub her clit, and she moans louder.

My eyes slide to her other tempting little hole, though. And before I know it, my other hand is slipping between her cheeks. The thumb of that hand slowly brushes over her tight little ring. River jumps, gasping as I start to rub her asshole.

“Oh shit…” she whimpers. She trembles and shakes against me, soaking my fingers and my thigh even more as I start to use both my hands on her.

I growl and lean over her. Spit drools from my mouth and lands on her tight little hole. She whimpers as I rub it in with my thumb, swirling it around her ass. My fingers stroke in and out of her cunt, rubbing her g-spot. My thumb begins to center and add pressure. She clenches, gasping as she moans. But slowly, my thumb begins to open her up.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck! Yuri!” She whimpers.

I groan, pushing harder as my thumb gently begins to sink into her ass.

“Open up for me, kiska,” I groan. “Open up so I can have all of you.”

My thumb slips into her, and she whimpers eagerly. My cock pulses against her as my fingers and my thumb begin to stroke in and out. She’s so fucking wet; dripping all over me. I keep pushing her, coaxing the pleasure from her body. I rub her clit with one thumb, her asshole with the other as my fingers plunge in and out.

“Oh God!” She whines. She clings to my thigh, shuddering against me. “Oh fuck, Yuri! Yuri!”

I sink my thumb deep in her ass as I rub her clit harder. And she starts to shake and thrash against me. Her breath intakes sharply, her body clenches and wrenches under my touch. Suddenly, she cries out, and she starts to come for me.

“I’m coming!” she sobs, choking out her orgasm. “Oh fuck I’m coming!”

I pin her to my legs, swirling a thumb around her clit as she erupts for me. She clamps a hand over her own mouth, sobbing through a cry of pleasure. I feel her pussy and her ass clenching and gripping at my fingers as she explodes for me.

She’s shaking as I gently slide my hands from between her legs. I stroke a finger lazily over her ass, making her whimper. I scoop her up and turn, draping her back across the sofa. With her skirt still bunched around her waist and her panties lewdly tangled at her thighs, it takes all of my control not to take her right here.

But control is what I need. Even if I just lost it, completely. But I ignore that voice as I stand. I bend down to cup her chin, and she moans as I kiss her hard. I suck at her bottom lip, pulling it with me with my teeth before I let it go. River’s big green eyes are hooded with lust.

“Seven,” I growl as I stand.

Her eyes hold mine. And slowly, a bratty little smirk crosses her lips.

“I’m still not wearing that.”

I growl as my lips pull into a snarl. “You damn well—”

“It’s last season.”

She grins impishly at me. “I mean, if you’re trying to make me irresistible. I can’t exactly be seen slouching around in last year’s tired old Valentino.”

She’s teasing me. She’s provoking me on purpose. And she’s becoming very, very good at it.

“I’ll have something brought to you,” I grunt. I turn, leaving her sprawled like that—a temptation that forcing myself to walk away from will make me stronger for tonight.

“Seven,” I growl over my shoulder at the door. Then I’m gone and wondering how the hell I’m going to navigate these new waters.