The Very Rude Boys Next Door by Chloe Kent

Chapter Seven

 

After a miserable night of tossing and turning and dreams that were too graphic to entertain in the brightness of day, her phone binged. It was a message from Viktoria albeit a different number altogether, and Anastasia’s heart sank as she read it.

They both used phones with numbers that weren't listed to their names so as to avoid been traced.

Boris, who decided to cut his business short to meet Anastasia in Paris had discovered she wasn’t in France after all. He had found Viktoria and threatened her and taken her phone away. Obviously, she had used a burner phone for all her communication, and Boris had taken the wrong one so he would find nothing.

Viktoria assured her she was fine then added more ominous news. She had found the perfect candidate to father Anastasia’s child. But then he had pulled out at the last minute because he had somehow heard that Anastasia was going to be Boris Yveltin’s wife, and he feared for his life if he got involved with anything to do with Boris Yveltin.

It wasn’t true, Anastasia wanted to scream. They weren’t even publicly engaged for crying out loud.

Viktoria’s last message to her was they were running out of time. Once Boris had her in his grasp, she would never be able to inherit what Tetya Maria had left her, and she would always be under her uncle’s rule.

Anastasia wanted to throw her phone across the room.

Think.

Think.

Think.

She had done a quick calculation, and her last period had been ten days ago. But with Viktoria being watched, it was time she took matters into her hands.

And then it hit her.

She rose shakily from the table and paced the kitchen floor. Would it work? Could she do it?

The answer to prevent her from being married off to whoever else her uncle decided, was to get pregnant.

She wouldn’t mind living a quiet life, away from everything and anything to do with the Bratva. And she would do nothing but love unconditionally and raise, to the best of her abilities, the child that would save her from untold lifelong misery.

Yes.

She had to get pregnant.

She couldn’t continue beating around the bush, like some immature, silly girl. A matriarch of the Koltov family had given her an ivory cane to rule, and she was going to take it with both hands.

She heaved a few deep breaths, then sat at her kitchen table again as she hatched her plans, all the while frantic that she was missing the opportunity to become pregnant if she waited a moment longer.

She thought of the men around her. At least they were on hand. And she was planning to offer them a shit ton of money with zero responsibility. Which man wouldn’t want that?

She flipped through her mental catalog of the men she had met at Janine and Edgar’s community barbecue. Roy was an eighty-year-old man who had a hip problem. Tony had a girlfriend but that didn’t stop him from flirting with her. Oscar had bad breath. William became tongue tied when he tried to speak to her, and Peter had been a little too keen to show off his new dentures to her.

She struck them off one by one.

Until she was only left with three.

If she had been honest, she had forcefully and vigorously tried to erase them from her mind but now she had to face up they were the only three viable options open to her.

Callum. Ben. Kane.

But the physical effect thinking about them had on her was just too staggering. What was it about them that made her heart beat so strangely and her body react so crazily? She couldn't discount that her nipples had hardened, that the tightness between her legs had developed into something permanent, and she was constantly aware of it because, even though her head had been spun around with what her life had become, they had remained there, too, twirling in the background, haunting her dreams with images that made her flush in her sleep.

She didn’t even have a preference. It seemed to happen when she thought of them individually, but as a collective, the sheer power of sensation was just indescribable.

She started to hyperventilate and then had to order herself to calm down. She could do this. She was going to take a shower, put on her nicest clothes, extra perfume, then go over to their house and make her business proposition because that was what it was in its entirety.

She was going to pay one of them for the pleasure of their sperm.

No, not pleasure.

She wanted it to be clinical, quick, and over and done with in a heartbeat.

She was far from vain, but she knew she had a good body and was pretty enough, if she went by the compliments she was given, which meant any one of them could also find her attractive enough to put a baby in her. Of course it wasn’t even totally different than spanking her. They didn’t have to like her to spank her. Well, they didn’t have to like her to sleep with her either.

Nope. That didn’t matter. She could go next door with a brown bag over her head and still get what she went there for in the first place. And that was all because of the colossal sum of money she was going to offer the one who volunteered.

Right.

With a million butterflies released in one go, in her tummy, she took one last look at herself in the mirror and gave herself one final pep talk. She had always wanted to get married for love and have lots of babies. Have the kind of marriage her parents had. But marrying for love was completely struck off her destiny chart since her uncle insisted she marry for convenience instead. His convenience.

But now she could have a child of her own. And placing her hand on her empty tummy, she vowed she would spend her life loving the baby who had saved her.

Before she lost any of her nerve, she trod carefully over the threadbare carpets, in her stellar-high heels, with the last image of herself in the mirror filtering through in her head, pencil-tight skirt that reached her calves, and a bodice-like, strapless top. She opened her front door, and shakier than a leaf in a tornado, walked next door, and knocked on theirs.

She had arranged her freshly shampooed hair in soft curls down her back and underneath her clothes, she wore a pair of panties and matching bra, in flimsy, sparse crimson silk and lace.

She couldn’t believe she was doing this. She was going to proposition three men to see which one of them wanted to have sex with her, enough so she could fall pregnant.

And she hadn’t chosen them carelessly either. Truthfully, they were the last men on earth she wanted to ask, based only on the way they made her feel, as if she were on fire all the time with a deep, dark threat to burst into flames if any one of them so much as laid a finger on her. No, she would have chosen someone staider, someone who had zero effect on her.

Sadly, no man like that existed in the community, and she never thought she would say that, but her biological clock had suddenly become a time bomb, and if she didn’t have sex immediately, it might be late to wait another month. And she would lose everything.

She didn’t have the time to find someone else.

This had to work.

She staggered back immediately from the sight of Ben as he opened the door, then regained some ground before she looked like a total idiot.

“I would like to talk to you and your brothers. Please,” she said, forcing herself to remain neutral, her voice steady and businesslike. She wasn’t going to give herself a moment to even think about what they had done to her. Besides, they themselves had said once she apologized, it was over, and there would be no reason to bring it up again… unless she asked for it.

Oh God, help her.

“Sure, come in,” said the tall, dark-haired, hazel-eyed man before her. When he offered her his pearly white gleaming smile, she melted and had to bite her lip to send a sharp message to her nerves not to act like some stupid girl with a crush.

“Thank you,” she murmured and followed him into their kitchen.

As soon as she saw them, she lost so much ground in terms of composure, their mere presence alone seemed enough to topple her over into a dark and deviant haze, the one they created.

“Anna wants to talk to us,” Ben filled them in, and then they were watching her, lazily propped around their kitchen, leaning into countertops and against cupboards with their arms folded and their faces serving up a good supply of amusement her way. She was instantly reminded in graphic detail that they had seen her naked. Not half naked, or partially naked. They had seen her in absolute and complete nakedness. She had also tried to kill them. Mistakenly. Then they had peeled down her panties and… and...

Didn’t she tell herself she was going to stop thinking about them? Her future, her life was at stake here.

But whatever nervous apprehension she had been feeling dissolved into a heat that settled with scorching intent on her cheeks, as they did nothing but peruse her, saying nothing to prompt her to talk.

She resisted the urge to fiddle, to cross her breasts with her folded arms.

She had to portray a self-assured persona, one that seemed very capable of conducting business and winning. She couldn’t be the pushover they were steering her toward without uttering one single word. The one they already knew she was when she had begged them to make her come all because they had touched her.

“Gentlemen,” she said and was glad it came across as only a partial squeak. She swallowed hard before continuing.

“I’m not here to play any games. I’m here to offer one of you an opportunity that I hope you will appreciate as quite lucrative.”

“Go on,” Kane said softly, and she lifted her gaze to meet his while the sound of his voice sprinkled her flesh with goose bumps.

“Well, I find myself in a situation that requires I become… well that I become… that requires I—”

She took a deep breath. “I am offering one of you gentleman a sum of one million American dollars if you are up to the task of getting me pregnant. There are no strings attached,” she carried on, worried if she stopped, she would turn around and run. “After the deed is done and I will require a few… a few more… sessions to ensure that I do become pregnant, you will never see me or the baby ever again, and you may go on with your life as normal, albeit richer. As if nothing had happened.”

“Why?” Callum questioned. His thick, silky eyebrows dipped into the center of his forehead as he narrowed his eyes on her, erasing every shred of cloth from her body as if he were physically, in person removing her clothes.

She was forced to clear her throat and give in and folded her arms over the breasts whose nipples now protruded from the cup of her bra and peeked out, causing her top to embarrassingly tent a little.

She couldn’t understand what it was that prompted her to tell them the whole truth, leaving nothing out.

“My family is part of the Russian Mafia, the Koltov Bratva. When my parents died in a car crash when I was sixteen years old, I had to go and live with my uncle, who is a man not beyond evil. He has decided that I should marry someone known for his exploits of human beings. I do not want to marry this man.

“Recently I discovered that if I became pregnant by an American man, and it has to be an American man, I will come into an inheritance spanning several billion American dollars, more property and land I will know what to do with in my life, but more than that, I will inherit two-thirds of the Koltov company, ultimately the control center of the entire Koltov Bratva.

“That will give me majority rule and controlling interest. It will also give me the power to banish my uncle from the family if I so choose. At the very least he will not have any right to control me. All I need is to become pregnant by an American to have that power released to me.”

There was a moment of silence after she had delivered her case. The brutal honesty in her words had shocked her; she couldn’t believe that was what her life had become. And now it was entirely up to one of them.

“Consider it done,” Callum said.

His words should have given her a flood of relief. Instead, they made her stall further.

“I belong to a Bratva family. The Russian Mafia,” she repeated. She didn’t want them to ignore the facts. “These are dangerous people. The man I am meant to marry is Boris Yveltin. Even if you haven’t heard of him from the news, he is a sick, dangerous man who will kill you if he finds out. Do you understand what you’re dealing with?”

“Yes, we’ve heard of little Boris Yveltin. But maybe you didn’t hear my brother the first time he said consider it done, sweetheart,” Ben ventured.

She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again.

“Good girl,” Kane murmured.

“But we have our own rules.”

“Rules?” She took a step back as all three of them advanced toward her.

“First rule is the rule of three. We all three get to kiss you.”

She gasped as Callum cupped her face, then again when he lowered his lips to hers. The first touch of his mouth on hers awakened a part of her she had pushed aside. He kissed her until she was forced to part her lips for him and then the maddening stroke of his tongue in her mouth made her spine sizzle in delicious torture.

She clung to him, grasping his T-shirt in her hands and fisting the fabric in her palm. She was drowning, and still he continued to kiss her.

When he finally released her, taking a piece of her soul with him, he handed her over to Ben, and she drowned all over again. She sank deeper into the mysterious, dark depths that lay at the bottom of her femininity. He suckled on her lips, bruising her tenderly as his large hand at the nape of her neck pulled her into him. She whimpered when he released her and passed her over to Kane but not without taking a part of her soul too.

By the time Kane’s lips touched her, she had grown addicted to their flavor, so different but so earth-shatteringly splendid, being kissed by them felt as though they were suckling on something sweet and relishing the taste.

Kane’s soft growl, as he pulled her body onto his, his commanding tongue sweeping against every part of the inside of her mouth, kept her in the dark haven of the pool in which she still drowned. Gloriously and desperately.

She could barely stand on her own two feet when Kane released her, taking the last of her soul with him.

“We all three get to undress you.”

Panting heavily, Anastasia burned under their touches as they pulled the zipper down on her skirt, the straps off her shoulders. As they dragged her clothes off her, unclasped her bra, slipped her soaking-wet panties off her thighs and her feet. Then her shoes.

They had stopped touching her now. Flushed, with her lips swollen, her nipples aching, and the wetness between her thighs permeating the air shamefully with her arousal, she lowered her gaze out of shyness. She couldn’t withstand the heaviness of their eyes on her. She worried they would see her flaws and stop touching her altogether. Why did they stop touching her?

“And we all three get to touch you,” Ben said softly, his voice finally breaking the silence that had started to make her eyes sting with worry.

She raised her head at his comment.

“We all three get to fuck you, Anastasia,” Callum added.

“We all three get to slide our thick cocks into the hot tightness of your pussy, First Callum, because he is the oldest brother. Then Ben. Then me. Stretching you, molding you to take us until we’re the only cocks that your body knows and will accept. Fuck you that way until you take our cum, all of it, inside your pussy.”

“We’re going to ravish you until you’re pregnant, however long that takes. And you will remain in our bed, remain here in Lakeside Banter, in this house for the duration. It’s the only place you’ll be safe,” Callum picked up where Kane stopped.

“Do you understand what we’re saying to you?” Ben asked gently. 

Her throat had dried up, her body had turned into a furnace of need.

“Yes,” she whispered hoarsely.

“Go and wait in the first bedroom for us. On your knees on the floor.”