Nikolai: A Mafia Prince Romance (Russian Mob Chronicles Book 1)

“That is not how you spell fuck. F. U. C. K. Not F. V. C. K,” I argue when Nikolai places down the last of his tiles onto an overloaded Scrabble board.

“That’s not a V. It’s a U.” Nikolai chuckles at my assumption he can’t spell a curse word he regularly uses.

Even though his laugh hits every one of my hot buttons, I continue to argue, not willing to back down since this is our third game, and we are tied one all. “No, it isn’t a U. It’s a V.” I point to the offending tile. “That’s why it’s worth more points.”

“You lost, Ahren. It’s time to pay your debt. Lose the shirt.” His words are barely audible since his sexy voice is hindered with laughter.

“No way. You cheated. Cheaters don’t prosper.”

I cross my arms over my chest, hating that my undefeated Scrabble streak was stolen from a man I never saw as a challenger. If I knew Nikolai’s love of language was as extensive as mine, I would have picked another game to keep us entertained during a powerless night. I hate losing—hate it!

With today’s temperatures being as scorching as my day with Nikolai, a massive storm rolled over Las Vegas in the late afternoon, plunging my apartment into darkness.

Nikolai and I have utilized the time well. We’ve spent the hours talking, drinking wine, and testing out the sturdiness of every hard surface in my apartment. It has been a day unlike any I’ve ever had. It’s been truly magical.

Away from his crew, Nikolai is an ideal man. He is kind, well-educated, and core-clenchingly dominant. He can bring me to the brink of ecstasy just as quickly as he can make my blood boil. It honestly feels like an entire year has passed since our exchange on my couch yesterday afternoon, not just one measly day.

My eyes move like a missile to Nikolai when he warns, “Lose the shirt, Ahren. Or I’ll remove it myself.”

Acting like his threat didn’t roll through my veins like liquid ecstasy, I reply, “I’d like to see you try.” My voice is crammed with attitude it doesn’t usually project.

When his brow arches, I bolt for my bedroom door, certain my years of track will give me a good lead on his agility. It doesn’t. He’s on my heels in a matter of seconds.

I squeal like a teenage girl when he curls his arm around my waist and hoists me from the ground. It isn’t just the vibrancy firing in the air responsible for my playful response, it’s my entire day.

A breathless chuckle escapes my lips when Nikolai and I tumble to the floor with a thud, thankfully giving me an excuse for the sentimental tears looming in my eyes. I roll to my side before crawling onto my knees, striving to stop him from yanking my shirt over my head.

It’s a pointless endeavor. Nikolai has his target locked and loaded, and just like the entire time I’ve known him, I’m defenseless to his charm.

The steamy conditions turn even more roasting when he drags my shirt over my head, exposing my erratically panting chest to his more than eager gaze.

“Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?” He glances down at me, his eyes brimming with his natural arrogance I’m growing to love.

By the back of his head, I pull his lips onto mine. He groans against my mouth before he spears his tongue between my lips. I’ve lost count of the number of times we’ve kissed the past thirty-six hours, but they seem to get better with every one we share. That probably has more to do with my rusty kissing skills than Nikolai’s prowess. A few hours ago, I was a novice; now I’m a professional.

After kissing me breathless, he withdraws from our embrace and locks his eyes with mine. He stares at me in silence, his gaze attentive. “I never understood what Rico meant when he said his wife was his reward for years of misery. . .” His eyes bounce between mine as the unidentifiable glint I spotted yesterday grows. “. . .until you walked into my life. You’re my little slice of heaven in a hot and temperamental place.”

I graze my teeth over my bottom lip as I struggle to find words strong enough to express what his words mean to me. Thankfully, I’m saved from embarrassing myself when Nikolai’s focus drops to my breasts. It’s only been thirty-six hours, but I can confidently tell you, Nikolai Popov is most certainly a breast man.

He kneads my breasts, squeezing and sucking them until my nipples bud to a nearly painful point. The zinging pain diverts to my aching sex when he encloses his mouth over my right areola. His mouth is warm and inviting, his tongue, wet. I throw my head back and moan, overwhelmed by the sensations heating up every inch of my body.

I’ve been put through the wringer the past four years, but that is all set aside when Nikolai’s mouth is on mine. I love the dominance he displays in his kisses: the power of his strokes, the taste of his mouth, and how he kisses me as if he needs my lips on his more than he needs air. But more than anything, I love the way he makes me feel like I’m free. It’s as if the past four years never happened.

“That’s it, Ahren. Let me hear you,” he requests when my moans ramp up a gear.

I purr softly, adoring the stubble on his chin grazing my stomach when his focus drops to a region of my body begging for his attention. He nibs and bites on the squishy skin, enlarging my heart with every playful graze of his teeth. He worships my body as if it isn’t covered with horrible scars, treasuring it as if it’s perfect.

The heat of his breath fans my pussy when he growls out in a throaty purr. “Ahren, you’re saturated.”

As his fingers trace the seam of my panties, his eyes lift to me, soundlessly seeking permission. He has done the same thing ever since our first encounter in the bathroom over thirty-six hours ago. I nod, incapable of articulating speech. I can barely breathe, much less talk.

He wastes no time slipping my panties to the side before circling his lips around my clit. My hands dart out to secure a hold on something—anything—when he sucks my clit into his mouth. They come up empty.

The power of his sucks overwhelms me. They’re mind-hazing, leaving my mind vacant of cognitive thoughts. I pant, incredibly aroused by the deep groan he releases when his tongue delves into my soaked sex.

“So fucking sweet. Tangy. Bitter. The tastiest cunt I’ve ever eaten.”

The crudeness of his comment excites me more. I part my thighs before weaving my fingers through his hair so I can hold his mouth hostage to my slicked sex. My bottom lip drops into a pout when he seizes my hands and pins them to my side. The sting of his fingers clamped around my wrists would usually cause a negative response from me, but since it’s Nikolai, it sends my libido soaring.

“A real man eats without assistance,” Nikolai growls, his Russian accent more pronounced.

Staring up at me, he devours my pussy without hindrance. His teeth graze my clit as his lips and tongue worship the rest.

“Ride my mouth like you ride my cock, Ahren,” he requests a short time later, his throaty voice sending a pleasurable zing from my nipples to my clit. “Fast and without restraint.”

Since my arms are pinned to my side, I raise my backside off the wooden floor to rock against his mouth as requested. The strokes of his tongue and the weird sensation of my clit grinding against his nose drives me so wild, I’m sitting on the brink of ecstasy in a shameful amount of time.

Not wanting to make a fool out of myself, I close my eyes and let my mind drift elsewhere.

My eyes pop back open when he bites my clit. “I’m starving to taste your arousal again, Justine. Don’t make me wait any longer than I already have.”

Blood floods my heart from him using my real name. More times than not, he refers to me as Ahren, which is Russian for angel. Although his nickname is sweet, I much prefer when he uses my name. Then I know he is with me and only me.

The storm brewing in my womb amplifies as I watch Nikolai consume me like a man starved of taste. His tongue glides up my pussy on repeat before he circles it around my clit. He sucks and tugs at my clit until a familiar tingle rolls across my stomach. It gains in intensity with every perfect caress, building to a point I can’t hold it back.

I arch my back, my race to climax building so rapidly I feel like I’m spiraling out of control. I’m hot all over and screaming without reservation. My cries of ecstasy spur on his pursuit. He licks, sucks, and worships my pussy like a man out of control—like a man who is insane.

I don’t know who moans louder when my orgasm reaches fruition.

“That’s it. Come for me, Ahren. Give me every scream. Let the world hear what I do to you,” Nikolai groans, his voice as rough as my throat feels.

My head flops back as stars detonate in my eyes. I tremor in ecstasy while panting Nikolai’s name on repeat. The pace of his strokes grow more urgent with every shuddered syllable escaping my lips. I barely register him releasing my wrists from his dominant hold until he grips the curve of my ass and thrusts my hips forward.

“I don’t want to miss a drop.”

Nikolai mushes his mouth against my pussy, stretching my orgasm from one to two. My cries grow louder when he keeps his word. He slurps up every morsel of my arousal, only stopping once every excited tremble coursing through my body has been exhausted beyond reprieve.

When he lifts his head, the grin on his face—my god. That grin will be the death of me.

“Just like everything you do, you come with perfection.”

After one last peck to my throbbing core, he crawls up my body, his movements effortless and agile. I taste myself on his lips when he presses them to my quaking mouth. He has only just slipped his tongue between my lips when the buzz of a cellphone shrills through our ears.

Nikolai groans. He knows who is calling without needing to look at the screen. It’s Roman, making this his fifteenth call of the day. Roman is more of a father to Nikolai than any man in his life, but I wish he’d quit calling.

Every time Nikolai’s cell phone flashes, his birthright is thrust back into the forefront of my mind. Both Nikolai and I know our time is borrowed; that’s why we aren’t wasting a single moment.

The past seventy-six hours exceeded anything I could have imagined when I unknowingly invited a mafia prince to reside with me, but I know it’s only a matter of time before the bubble we’ve been hiding in bursts. If I could shelter Nikolai from his lifestyle forever, I would, but I can’t. Eventually, his past will catch up with him. And with how frequently Roman has called the past three hours, I’d say it will be a lot sooner than anticipated.

When Nikolai’s cell buzzes, announcing he has a new voicemail message, he stands and heads to his phone resting on my coffee table. Even sexually satiated from two mind-hazing orgasms, I can’t help but drink in his delicious frame. His walk is as arrogant as ever, a cocky swagger that leaves no suspicion of his self-assuredness.

I could learn a thing or two from his confidence. His body is as marked as mine, but his confidence exceeds mine tenfold. Although from how many compliments he has given me the past two days, I doubt low self-esteem will be a problem of mine much longer.

After listening to Roman’s voicemail, Nikolai heads back to where I’m sprawled on the floor.

“Everything okay?” I ask when I spot the deep groove in the middle of his pulse-quaking eyes.

“Yep. Just laying down some foundations.” His tone is as cryptic as his reply.

My body flops hard against his torso when he bobs down and gathers me in his arms. I nuzzle into his chest, loving how easily he carries me as he makes a beeline for my bedroom. My brows furl when his trek deviates from the path I’m anticipating. Instead of dumping me on the bed like he has numerous times so far today, he hooks the bedsheet around his forearm before taking a sharp left.

Balancing me with one hand, he slides open the door of my balcony. A dash of panic sizzles my veins, but it’s hardly noticeable since Nikolai drapes the bedsheet in front of my body before stepping outside.

I purr like a kitten when he sits in the rickety old sun lounger shoved in the back corner of the tiny space. I’m not purring because I’m cold; it’s from feeling his monstrous manhood brush against my ass when he pulls me to sit on his lap.

After ensuring the bedsheet is covering the intimate parts of my body, he draws me into his chest. “You said you’ve never seen the lights of Vegas. I can’t take you to the strip, but I can show you the best show Vegas has to offer.”

He nudges his head to the skyline peaking above the rooftops. With the hours burning away more quickly than I’d like, the black sky is transforming to a mottled gray color as the sun prepares to rise.

I sigh, loving Nikolai’s thoughtfulness, but hating the reality behind it. Once that sun rises, everything will change. By 9 AM, I’m once again Justine, first year intern at Schluter and Fletcher, and Nikolai will be the man he has always been: a Russian Mafia prince.

“Do you know every sunrise is unique? It isn’t defined by the night before’s sunset. It’s free to do whatever it wants.” He runs his hand down my arm, drawing me into him even more deeply. “That’s what we’ll do, Ahren. We’re going to live every day as if it’s a new one.”

I smile against his chest, adoring his silent pledge that our bizarre kinship isn’t ending just yet. “You know we’re going to have an uphill battle. We’ve got the world against us, Nikolai,” I murmur, expressing the concerns that have been lingering in the back of my mind since our run-in with Vladimir yesterday afternoon.

Nikolai said it himself. Anything he wants, his father takes. Does that include me?

He shakes his head, the determination radiating out of him in invisible waves. “I’ve got it all worked out. You just wait and see.”

I peel off his chest to peer into his eyes. “You’ve got everything worked out?” My voice is jeering even though I see honesty in his wide gaze. “Am I going to get a say in any of this?”

The murky cloud in his eyes clears away as his cock stiffens beneath me. He’d never admit it, but I’m certain he likes the idea of having a person standing beside him, instead of three paces back. That’s why he’s been striving to rebuild my confidence.

A king needs a queen, not a servant.

Acting like I can’t feel an odd sensation sweeping over me, I ask, “So what’s this brilliant plan you’ve got hiding up your sleeve?”

He adjusts me until I’m snuggled back into his torso, facing the sky that is getting lighter by the second before saying, “First, my attorney needs to get this fucking thing off me. It’s annoying as fuck.” He taps his ankle monitor against my leg, ensuring I know who he wants counseling his case.

When I nod, acknowledging I understand his request, he continues, “Second, we’ll get things straight with your brother. If it wasn’t for him, your fine ass wouldn’t be heating my cock right now.”

The playfulness of his tone does nothing to dampen the emotional punch his promise inflicts on me. Tears pool in my eyes as my heart triples in size. Maddox needs as many people on his side as possible, but having a man as powerful as Nikolai take up his cause is more than I could have ever hoped for.

“And the third?” My words are brittle, cracked by the sob in the back of my throat dying to break free. Although I’m on the verge of crying, for the first time in years, my tears are not ones of sorrow. They’re happy tears. “Everyone knows good things come in threes, Nikolai. So, what’s the last item on your wish list?”

Nikolai’s chest rises and falls in a slow, rhythmic pace four times before he mutters, “I’m going to kill my father.”