The Bastard's Bargain Read online

  The world was an ugly place, and the art she was so goddamn proud of didn’t do a damn thing to change that. All it did was remind her of the idiot girl she’d been—so willfully blind, doing anything she had to in order to ignore the truth of her situation.

  Trapped. Helpless. A pawn in a game she never wanted to play to begin with.

  Nothing had changed, even if the city she lived in had. She was still a character in someone else’s play, required to dance to the tune not of her making.

  God, I need a drink.

  “Keira.”

  Dmitri’s voice reached out to her in the darkness of the room. When had he come to bed? I really am a mess if I’m checking out so thoroughly that I didn’t notice him. She swallowed past her burning throat, trying to convince herself that she wasn’t about to cry. “I don’t want to talk to you anymore.” It sounded childish, but she couldn’t help it.

  “We don’t have to talk.” He shifted, turning onto his side to face her. “Let me hold you, moya koroleva. I’ll keep the demons at bay tonight.”

  She should say no. Doing anything to damage the reality—that Dmitri was no knight in shining armor—was dangerous in the extreme.

  But if she didn’t do something, she was in danger of climbing out of bed and charging down to the vodka she’d hidden in order to drown out her racing thoughts. She teetered on an edge far more dangerous than the man next to her. She was clean. Actually clean. It was one thing to comfort herself with the lie-not-lie that she only wanted an escape from her shitty life. It was another to not be able to get through a tiny bump in the road without a substance as a crutch.

  It was unforgivably weak to need alcohol. She didn’t want to be that girl again. Knowing that didn’t make it any easier to resist the driving force inside her that was creeping higher with every exhale. A sleeping monster that her grief had woken. Her fingers itched for a bottle, her throat craving the familiar burn. Just a little drink. Just to take the edge off.

  “Keira?”

  She turned to him in desperation. “Kiss me, Russian.”

  He hesitated in the darkness, as if he wanted to dig deeper, but he finally drew her into his arms. “We will talk eventually.”

  Not fucking likely. “Sure.”

  Dmitri sifted his fingers through her hair and then ran one hand down her back to press her hips against his. “We’re not fucking tonight.”

  She blinked into the darkness. “I didn’t put it on the table.”

  “Not yet.” He kissed her jaw and then her neck. “You’re hurting, moya koroleva. You would regret it if we took that step now.”

  She relaxed against him, tilting her head back to give him better access. “What do you care?” Giving him everything sounded like a goddamn dream right now. With his body sliding against hers, maybe her mind would actually deliver blessed silence. Maybe she could actually reclaim the distance her drugs had given her—at least for a little while. Dmitri’s presence drowned out everything else.

  He should be jumping at the chance to get her further under his control, and yet he was holding back. She didn’t know how to deal with that. The man defied the nice little boundaries she drew up for him, and kept surprising her. Keira didn’t like surprises. She needed him to act like the monster she knew him to be. Any softening would fuck with her head, and her head had been fucked with enough.

  The only answer her gave her was his mouth brushing hers. A request rather than a command. Another surprise. His kissed her bottom lip and then her top lip, a slow exploration that made her head spin. Before she could relax into the feeling, his tongue was there, requesting entrance. She opened for him immediately. His touch drove away the bad thoughts, and she’d take whatever he’d give her.

  Last time he’d kissed her, he’d kissed her like he owned her. This time, he kissed her like he wanted to memorize her. Slow. Agonizingly, deliciously slow.

  Fuck that.

  Keira shoved his shoulders, toppling him onto his back. There wasn’t a doubt in her mind that he’d allowed the move—if Dmitri wanted to pin her in place, he could do it easily enough. She ended up straddling him and, holy fuck, what a place to be.

  The darkness of the room licked at him, only furthering the impression of a fallen angel. No, not an angel. This man was subservient to no one. He was at home here in the shadows, sprawled on this sinfully massive bed like some dark god.

  It was right about then that she realized he was naked. Keira went still, trying to tamp down the urge to rush for a light switch. He’s my husband, right? That means I’ll see this again…and again…and again. The faint light coming in from the window didn’t give her nearly enough to work with, so she ran her hands down his chest. He was cut in the way boxers were, though she hadn’t noticed it before because his clothes fit him so damn well. But there was some serious muscle here.

  She traced his pecs and then lightly raked her nails over his abs. “Fuck, Russian, how many sit-ups do you a do a week?”

  His dark chuckle went straight through her. “Perhaps one of these days, I’ll show you.”

  She took half a second to picture him working out in only a pair of shorts, sweat slicking these same muscles as he pushed his body…Keira shivered. “Not until we’re fucking.” She wouldn’t be able to resist that. She knew herself well enough to know that. The fact that she’d resisted at all was a goddamn miracle.

  Here. Now. They were both naked and in his bed.

  And he’d taken sex off the table.

  She didn’t know how to tempt or tease or seduce. Keira had never bothered with that bullshit. If she wanted to fuck someone, she fucked them. The only person who’d ever turned her down was the one she currently had naked between her thighs. She leaned forward and braced herself on one hand so she could use the other to stroke his cock. It was the first time she’d touched him like that, and she took her time exploring him. Long and wide and fucking perfect. Because of course. It would be too much to ask the universe to give this man a single physical imperfection.

  His body went tense as she stroked him again, and she enjoyed the moment of total control. It didn’t matter that Dmitri could flip her and do whatever he damn well pleased and she’d likely love every second of it. What mattered was that she was on top, if only for a limited time. “I want to ride you, Romanov.”

  He spit out something in Russian, which was enough to make her vow to learn the language if it was the last thing she did. She wanted to know what he was saying to her when his control slipped.

  “Keira. Moya koroleva.” He grabbed her wrist, but he didn’t remove her hand from his cock. “Sex is not on the table.”

  “Who said anything about sex?” She ran the heel of her hand up his cock. “Now, lie back and think of Mother Russia.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Dmitri should stop Keira before this thing got out of control. He knew that. She was hurting and wounded, and he was a right bastard for allowing her to use him as another kind of drug. When they had sex, it had to be her choice while she was completely in her right mind, or she’d accuse him of coercing her. Taking advantage.

  But he didn’t stop her.

  Instead, he let her have control. There wasn’t enough damn light in the room to see more than the line of her body, the curve of her breasts and hips, the way her hair shifted around her shoulders. She pressed his cock down against his stomach and lined up her pussy over the top of him.

  And then she began to move.

  She was so fucking wet, and she spread her arousal over him with each sliding stroke, dragging herself over his cock but never granting him entrance. Seeking her own pleasure.

  He ran his hands up her sides and cupped her breasts, pinching her nipples lightly. “Take what you need.”

  “I plan on it.” She rolled her hips, pressing down harder. “The angle is wrong.”

  Dmitri leaned up enough to hook the back of her neck and pull her down to him. He kissed her even as he urged her hips to start moving again. Judging
by her moan, she’d found her angle. She kissed him with a need identical to the feeling building in his chest.

  He didn’t lose control. Ever. Dmitri didn’t go into a situation unless he knew he’d come out on top, and he had yet to manage that with Keira. Oh, he’d won a few skirmishes, but she undermined his control with every breath she took, and he liked it far more than he should.

  She went still, and he realized her intent. He tore his mouth from hers. “Don’t you dare.”

  “Or what?” She shifted her hips, and his cock was at her entrance. Keira writhed against him, each move sinful and desperate. As if she couldn’t get enough. “What will you do to me, Dmitri?”

  He’d destroy worlds to hear his name on her lips in exactly that tone of voice. Lustful. Needy. Teasing. Not like this. He grabbed her hips, holding her in place when she would have thrust down onto him. “This isn’t what you need tonight.”

  “Funny.” She licked his jaw and then bit his chin. “I think I know what I need more than you do. And right now, I need your cock filling me.” She gave his throat an openmouthed kiss. “I want you to fuck me so hard, I feel it in the back of my throat.”

  Fuck.

  Keira shifted again, dragging her breasts over his chest. “God, you make me so fucking hot, I can’t think of anything else.” And then she went in for the kill. “Your wife needs you, Dmitri. She aches for you. She’s so fucking empty without you. Will you really deny her?”

  He growled. “There is no going back from this. You want this, you will take it in full. There will be no waking up in the morning and claiming you didn’t really choose it. No regrets, moya koroleva. You want my cock?” He released her hips. “Then take it.”

  Part of him thought he was calling her bluff.

  He should have known better.

  Keira slammed down, taking him to the hilt. She froze, her breath leaving her in a rush. “Damn, Dmitri.”

  “Are you hurt?” He held perfectly still, cursing himself for not seeing where this was going, even as the beast he never let off the leash raged to flip her and thrust hard and deep. He touched her hips. “Talk to me.”

  “I’m fine.” She rocked her hips ever so slightly. “It’s been a while and you’re bigger than your average bear.”

  He blinked, trying to pick that sentence apart, but she didn’t give him the opportunity. Keira pressed her hands to his chest and slid almost all the way off his cock before slamming down again. “God, that’s good.”

  She was so fucking wet and tight and…Fuck. “Condom.”

  “Seriously?” She cocked her head to the side, sending her hair spilling over her shoulder. “You want little Russian Irish babies, but it’s a moot point because I’m on birth control. I’m clean as of my last doctor appointment, which I would be highly surprised to find that you didn’t know.”

  He did know—he’d pulled her medical history the moment they met, and he’d done it again before carrying out his plan to marry her. “That’s beside the point.”

  “It’s really not. Unless you’re about to tell me that you, Dmitri Romanov, are anything less than diligent when it comes to protecting yourself during sex.”

  “Nyet.” That was the point. He never lost his mind enough to forget himself like he just had. There was too much as risk, and he never forgot that.

  Until now.

  “Want to know a secret?” She straightened and twined her arms over her head, leaving the long length of her body open to his view. Keira rolled her hips again, circling his cock. “Well?”

  “Tell me.” He had no idea what would come out of her mouth next, and even her pussy clamping around his cock wasn’t enough to distract him from whatever secret she was about to impart.

  Her white teeth flashed as she grinned in the darkness. “I haven’t been with anyone else since that first night we met.”

  Rushing sounded through his ears, a possessive feeling surging in him that he had no goddamn right to. Mine. “No one.”

  “Mm-hmm.” She tilted her head back and drew another circle with her hips. “I knew you were bad for me, but it didn’t matter because I wanted you. I still want you. I thought it would go away with time, but it only got worse. Stronger.”

  She might as well have been describing his experience. He hadn’t taken her up on her offer that first night—or the second—but he’d wanted to. Something about the broken, beautiful woman drew him despite his best efforts.

  He looped an arm around her waist and rolled them, pinning her hands over her head in the same move. “A secret for a secret, then, da?” He thrust deep, the possessive need to mark her as his growing with each stroke.

  “Da.” Her accent was nearly flawless. He liked to imagine a time when they’d speak his mother tongue to each other, but it wouldn’t be now.

  He ground his pelvis against her clit, their breath sharing the scarce distance between their faces. “I haven’t touched another woman since that night. After you, no one else would do.”

  Keira arched up and took his mouth, her tongue mirroring what his cock was doing between her thighs. She raked her nails down his back, the biting pain in direct contrast with the pleasure drawing his balls up. He ground against her again, growling in Russian, “Come on my cock, moya koroleva. Take what’s yours.”

  “Can’t understand you when you speak Russian.” She bit his shoulder. “Harder.”

  He couldn’t have resisted her if he wanted to. The night had more than proven that truth. Dmitri hitched her legs higher and obeyed her command. Harder. The feeling of her clenching around him drew words he had no intention of speaking. “You feel so good, wife. Wet and tight and gripping my cock like you never want to let me go.”

  * * *

  Keira had no idea what Dmitri was growling in her ear, but it made her so hot, she was on the verge of exploding. I am fucking Dmitri Romanov. As many times as she’d imagined it, it didn’t come close to reality. His body overwhelmed hers, his solid thighs forcing hers out and up, his shoulders blocking out what little light there was, his hands everywhere at once. What made it even hotter was how intensely focused his attention was on her. She could feel it, even in the limited light.

  He dragged his thumb over her nipple. “Stay with me, moya koroleva.”

  “I’m here.” And she was. She laced her fingers through his hair and kissed him even as his rhythm picked up, driving her closer to the edge with each thrust.

  He barely let her get a taste before he kissed down her jaw and set his teeth to her neck hard enough to make her jump and moan. “Mine.”

  She tried to focus past the pleasure beating in time with her heart. “What did you just say?”

  “Mine, Keira.” He drew back even as his hips never missed a beat. “You are mine. Your body, your pussy, your conniving mind.” He tapped her temple. “All mine.”

  Of course he had to ruin a perfectly good fucking by opening up his goddamn mouth. “Go fuck yourself.”

  “Why would I, when I can fuck you instead?” He kissed her.

  She bit his tongue hard enough that he drew back with a curse. “Go. Fuck. Yourself. Get off me. Now.”

  Dmitri shoved off her, still muttering in Russian. He raked a hand through his hair. “I do not understand you.”

  “Why would you bother?” She drew her legs up and turned onto her side, watching him warily. Her body shook from the denied orgasm, but she’d be damned before she let that bullshit go down without a fight. She chose this, yes, but not like this. “I’m just a possession, after all.”

  He cursed, long and hard. “You are deliberately misunderstanding me.”

  “No, I don’t think I am.” It felt too representative of their relationship for her to stay prone while he towered over her, so she shoved onto her knees, getting in his face. “You bought me. I’m your real life blow-up doll, and you want to own every part of me. Guess what, Romanov, I’m a fucking person. You talk to me like that again and I’m gone, and to hell with the consequences.”

&n
bsp; “Over my dead body.”

  Just like that, it was all too much. He’d never let her leave him. She knew enough about how he operated to know that. He might not like locking her up, but he couldn’t afford to be made a fool of for the third time by an O’Malley.

  And where would she run?

  Not back to Boston. She’d never bring down his fury on her family, and Dmitri was too smart to push Aiden into a war he wasn’t sure he could win if she was gone. She couldn’t go home. She didn’t even want to.

  No, the truth was that Keira had nowhere to go.

  She wouldn’t let that stop her, though.

  She shot out of the bed, dodging his hand when he reached for her. “Don’t touch me.”

  “Keira, stop.”

  She snatched a robe off a nearby chair and spun to point at him. “I’m naked, Romanov. I’m not going to go sprinting into the darkness of the night. I just need some fucking space.”

  “Nyet. You will not run from me again.”

  That was exactly what she’d do. “Space. Respect it.” Keira fled the room before he could say anything else unforgivable. Her body ached as if it resented the distance she put between them.

  She’d done this.

  She chose this, every step of the way, and now she was in over her head and she had no one else to blame but herself. That didn’t make it any easier to bear. She might not have signed on to this situation hoping for a great love, but she had dared hope that she’d be something to Dmitri. Maybe not a partner, but more than a goddamn pet. If they kept this up, she wouldn’t be surprised if he bought her a fucking collar to make it official.

  Caged. Always caged, no matter which way I turn.

  Desperation beat in her blood and she picked up her pace. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. Keira just needed to…disconnect.

  The stairs loomed before her, and she had to check her pace before she fell. She paused to shrug on the robe, finding it long enough to drag on the ground and draping several inches past her fingertips. But it was warm and comfortable, and even if she despised him currently, she couldn’t deny that Dmitri smelled good.