Mafia King’s Bride

20. Dmitri

TWENTY

DMITRI

I guide Ana onto the yacht’s deck, my grip firm on her hand. “Watch your step,” I warn, my voice low and commanding. I’m not used to being gentle, but with her, I find myself adjusting.

Her midnight blue dress ripples in the breeze, a stark contrast to the white of the yacht. She moves with a grace that reminds me she’s no stranger to luxury. Of course, she isn’t, she’s Nikolai Petrov’s daughter.

“I’m not going to fall,” she laughs softly. “This isn’t my first time on a yacht.”

“I know,” I respond curtly, reminding myself of who she is, who I am. This isn’t a fairytale romance, it’s a strategic move. At least, that was the idea.

I survey the deck, noting the scattered carnation petals with satisfaction. Everything is precisely as I ordered. I’m a man who demands perfection, even in this.

“Carnations?” Ana asks, her voice tinged with surprise.

I nod, keeping my face impassive. “Red and white. I assumed you’d had your fill of roses.”

A small smile plays on her lips. “You assumed correctly.”

Her reaction pleases me more than it should. I push the feeling aside, focusing on the task at hand. “Would you like a tour? Or perhaps some champagne first?”

Ana nods, her eyes bright with curiosity. I feel a pull toward her that I can’t explain—and can’t afford.

When did she become more than just a pawn in my game?

I think back to last night, to the moment I almost started a war over a mere slight against her. It was irrational, dangerous, everything I’ve trained myself not to be. And yet, I can’t bring myself to regret it.

I’m Dmitri Orlov. I don’t fall in love. Love is a weakness, a liability in my world.

But as I look at Ana, standing on my yacht in that dress, I realize I might have miscalculated. And in my line of work, miscalculations can be deadly.

I need to tread carefully. The stakes are higher than ever now, and I can’t afford to lose control. Not even for her.

Especially not for her.

Her skin glows under the faint light, and my groin stirs as I picture her lying under me, her luscious hair fanned over my pillow.

We head into the spacious salon with two plush couches and a bar filled with aged and expensive bottles inside well-polished mahogany cases.

I gesture to the smaller couch, and when she sits, I head behind the bar, opening the glass case at the bottom left. I take out a bottle of champagne and two flutes. Setting them down on the counter, I open the bottle and pour some into the glasses.

“Here.” I hand her one, my fingertips brushing against hers and sending a jolt of desire through me. Mesmerized, I watch as she brings it to her mouth, wetting her lower lip with her tongue, her gaze fixed on my mouth. Her lips part slightly, and my cock strains against my pants as she lazily drags her eyes to mine, taking a sip and smiling. I’m so hot for her, I’m about to burst into flames.

Hold your horses, buddy. Take it slow.

“How about a tour?” I ask, breaking the spell.

“Sure,” she agrees, placing her glass down and taking my hand. Her palm is small and warm against mine, and I brush her soft skin with my fingers, looking forward to feeling more of her skin pressed against me. My gaze flickers to her as she walks next to me, taking in her facial features, from her curled lashes to the hair cascading down her shoulders and the subtle blush on her lips. They roam downward to her sandals, and I notice the sheer pink pedicure on her toes.

Everything about Anastasia is beautiful. But it always has been. I’ve just been blind to it before.

We venture downstairs, stopping at the guest suite.

“These,” I point to the two doors facing each other, “are for visitors. Though I rarely have any. But they’re fully equipped with everything you’d need for an impromptu trip.”

Her head bobs slightly. Moving on, we go into the kitchen. “This is barely in use too. Most of the time, I have food delivered instead of having it prepared here. Although, today’s going to be different.”

“Oh?” She tilts her head.

Her monotonous answers make me want to see her unravel.

Under me.

We didn’t resolve the impression she had of me last night—about my lack of enthusiasm during our dinner together. Tonight, I have every intention of not holding back and showing her the depth of my desire.

“The chef will be here in thirty minutes.”

We go back topside, and I point out the helm station and the fly bridge above. After, I lead her to the bow where string lights drape across the railing, winking to life as dusk falls.

Cushioned lounge chairs are strategically arranged to face the direction of the receding sun. “Let’s sit down.” I gesture toward them.

Her soft smile grows wider, making my heart skip a beat. “Okay.”

We settle in side by side and stare out into the horizon. A comfortable silence grows between us, but the thoughts in my mind keep it busy. I remain quiet, though more because I’m waiting for the right time.

It’s odd.

In all my life, I’ve never felt compelled to make things perfect. Trying to fill in my father’s shoes, yes, but not when it comes to cultivating relationships with other people.

I turn to Ana, my gaze calculating and intense. The warm light bathes her in a golden glow.

Something has shifted. This woman, meant to be nothing more than a pawn, has wormed her way past my defenses. It’s a weakness I can’t afford, but one I find increasingly difficult to ignore.

Ana meets my eyes, and I feel the air charge with tension. I’ve faced down rival mobsters without flinching, but her gaze threatens to unravel me.

I won’t allow it.

“There’s something you need to know,” I state, my voice low and commanding.

She nods, wary but curious. “What is it?”

I close the distance between us with measured steps, a predator stalking its prey. “You’ve become...valuable to me,” I rumble, the words foreign on my tongue. “I believe the feeling is mutual.”

Her breath catches, and I note the rapid rise and fall of her chest.

Fear? Excitement?

Both work in my favor.

Without warning, I seize her, pulling her against me. She gasps, her nails digging into my chest.

I crush my lips to hers, devouring, possessing. A primal sound tears from my throat as I break away, my control slipping for a dangerous second.

Ana isn’t just warmth; she’s third-degree burns. Our mouths clash again, a battle for dominance that I have no intention of losing. She yields, opening to me, and I push forward, claiming what’s mine.

In this moment, I’m not just taking Ana. I’m conquering my own weakness, turning it into strength. She may have softened my heart, but I’ll use that to make myself more formidable than ever.

Dmitri Orlov doesn’t fall in love.

He takes what he wants and makes it his own.

I can feel her nails as she grabs my shoulders to steady herself against me. Her body is soft, slipping across the fabric of my clothes as I pull her in.

“There’s something about kissing you. I don’t know what it is, but I want to keep doing it,” I murmur, and I can’t tell if she heard me.

I hope that she did; I don’t have the presence of mind to repeat it.

Ana reaches for my face, but I intercept her hand, gripping her wrist firmly.

I’ll dictate the pace here.

Slowly, deliberately, I lower my mouth to hers, asserting my dominance with a deep, possessive kiss. I capture her lower lip between my teeth, eliciting a soft gasp from her.

She is compliant and silent, and I prefer it that way. Words could shatter this moment, bring reality crashing back in. I won’t allow that. Not yet.

Without breaking the kiss, I feel her hand on my elbow, trying to guide me. I resist for a moment, reminding her who’s in control. Then, deciding to indulge her, I allow her to place my palm on her breast. Her heart races beneath my touch.

I growl low in my throat, pleased by her submission. My other hand slides to the nape of her neck, fingers tangling in her hair as I deepen the kiss. I explore her mouth thoroughly, claiming every inch as mine.

She may have softened me in some ways, but in this, I remain unyielding. I am Dmitri Orlov, and what I desire, I take. And right now, I desire her completely.

I can feel the weight of her breast against my palm, the soft poke of her nipple showing her arousal.

She’s a beautiful woman.

My wife.

I cradle her face in my hands.

“I want more of you. Everything.”

Her moan is shy of a gasp, fast and forceful, as she watches me kiss her hand. A kiss for each knuckle, I trail my way up past her wrist, and soon, I’m at her neck, kissing desperately, trying to mark every bit of her with my claim.

I can’t explain what happens next; as she stands before me, eyes partly closed in a daze, I’m overcome with the possessiveness of a man married for more romantic reasons. I want her; I want her because she’s mine. I want her because I chose her. I want to please her, to keep this expression on her face forever.

She gasps as I pull down the top of her dress. The slip below follows the outer material as I bare her breasts to me.

My mouth is on them before she can ask me what I mean to do. I should show her now isn’t the time for words.

My lips wrap around her nipple as I suck and tease, flicking my tongue against the small pebble. I need no other motivation to go on; her hand against my head, pushing me closer to her chest, is all that’s required.

She all but hugs me to her as I taste her, pushing her sensitive nub against my teeth as I pull softly.

“D-Dmitri,” she stutters, “someone might come?—”

“Let them all see,” I growl. “They should know that you’re mine.”

“Dmitri” is all she manages to say as I guide her to the cushioned chair behind her.

She hurriedly places herself down as I pull up the hem of her dress.

“Dmitri, wait,”

“No more waiting,” I interrupt. “You’re mine.”

I place my head between her legs, marking my trail with kisses along her inner thigh. Her skin is soft, stretched elegantly across her toned form. She quivers as I place my mouth on her, and it spurs me onward. I nibble at her flesh, desperate to mark her, to taste her.

As much as I can, as much as she’ll allow.

I find my way to her, pulling her underwear to the side as my breath begins to tease her.

My tongue is against her, and the catch in her breath is met with the first flick against wetness. Her arousal against my tongue pushes me into delirium.

“That’s my beautiful fucking wife, taking my tongue so good. Next it will be my cock,” I murmur against her pussy, warm and swollen. She whimpers above me as she struggles to push out my name like before.

She’s the only thing I can hear as my tongue dances across her labia, splitting her lips as I take in her juices.

“Look at the mess you’re making, you dirty girl.” I smirk. “Let me hear you scream,” I demand, continuing to flick my tongue around her swollen clit.

My arms wrap around her legs, lifting and placing them on my shoulders. I’m strangely aware of the heel of her shoes against my back.

“So, so fucking good,” I hear her moan above me. I’d stop and smile if I weren’t so desperate for her taste.

My tongue teases her sensitive nub, drawing wet figure eights across her. Teasing and toying as my mouth bumps into her again and again.

Each time pulls the softest gasp from her as she thrusts against me, as if trying to drag more out of me.

“Oh, fuck. Dmitri. Wait. Please.”

I pull myself out from under her dress.

“I need to talk to you,” she says as she holds my gaze.

I stare momentarily before standing, never breaking eye contact with her.

“Now is not a good time for a talk,” I say as I undo my belt buckle. Soon, I’m free of my restraints and stand before her.

“Take what’s yours, Ana.”

She stares at me, then at my erection before her, trying her best not to swallow.

“You had me before; don’t overthink it.”

She abandons the attempt to hide it, swallowing before reaching for me, the initial cool touch of her fingertips morphing into a warmer embrace as she wraps her palm against me.

She doesn’t waste time, folding her lips greedily around the head of my cock, taking me in as best as she can.

The sounds of her sucking on me fill the air around us.

She’s perfect.

She’s mine.

I’m overcome with desire as my hand reaches for her, cradling her face and pulling her up.

“I need to be inside of you, right now.”

I place her on the cushioned seat as she spreads her legs for me. Her dress is gathered at her waist, and the sight of her dazed eyes as she waits to take me is breathtaking.

“No matter how you may feel, you’re the best of women. I’m telling that to you now. You’re my wife.”

She doesn’t answer me, and I know I’ll have to explain myself later.

I move against her, resting my head on her shoulder, whispering in her ear as I slide into her.

Her gasp as I slowly push into her is the only sound in my head. Soon, I’m filling her completely, and we stay motionless for a second, panting against each other.

“Oh please, fuck me,” she moans.

And that’s all I need.

I begin to pull out of her, slowly, inch by inch, leaving her until only the tip remains. Then I push it all back in.

“Oh, fucking hell,” she cusses loudly.

“Easy, you’ll be fine; just breathe,” I guide her, kissing her neck.

I do it again, slowly pulling out of her and filling her up fast. The sound of our flesh meeting against each other causes me to throb even harder inside her.

“You feel so fucking good,” I whisper into her ear as her moans begin to pour out in short bursts.

I pick up my pace, slowly fucking her as I kiss her neck, her hand steadying herself against the seat.

Nothing can prepare me for her hand against my head as she whispers fiercely, “Fuck me hard and fast. Don’t let me think of anything else.”

I slip out of her, feeling sorely abandoned as I hang in the cool air around us.

I pull her up and turn her back to me, coming up behind her.

Her moans are louder now, and the space blurs around us as I take her from behind. She times her rocking against my thrusts to slam against me as I fuck her.

“You take my cock so well,” I say as my hand holds her by her hip, keeping her steady as I continue thrusting.

“You’re so deep in me. Filling me up,” she gasps. Her legs shaking, she reaches back to take hold of my arm for stability. “Don’t stop. Whatever you do, don’t stop.”

I pull her up and keep thrusting into her, and she leans against me, her mouth open as she moans with each thrust.

“Look at you, so fucking beautiful.”

“I’m coming,” she moans as she shakes against me.

Before the words fully leave her mouth, I grab her, a deep groan vibrating through my chest as I join her.

Afterward we sink into the nearby seats. I pull Ana into my arms, holding her in a close snuggle and kissing her hair. Only then do I remember we were supposed to have dinner a while ago.