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THE HITMAN’S ANGEL Jessa Kane

Copyright © 2019 Jessa Kane Kindle Edition All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

TABLE OF CONTENTS Title Page Copyright Page Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Epilogue

CHAPTER ONE

Margaret I SHOULD HAVE stayed out of sight.

That’s the thought that repeats over and over in my head as I’m being dragged by my elbow down the stairs. My stepfather gives me no chance to gain my footing, so I’m essentially a skidding, flailing blur of awkward limbs. I smack the side of my head off the railing and almost welcome the stars that wink in front of my eyes—they’re a vast improvement after looking at Hank’s disgusted expression.

God, he hates me so much. More than I hate raisins baked into bread.

Why do people insist on ruining good bread?

Hank throws me to the floor and pins me there with a sneer. “You’re done sponging off me, girl. You’re old enough to earn your keep now.” He crosses his battered arms over his T-shirt, which reads Hank’s All-Nude Review. “Did you think I wouldn’t notice the food missing from my refrigerator?”

“How else am I supposed to eat?” I’m not being a smart-ass. It’s an honest question. There’s nowhere else to get food, because he keeps me locked up. “You won’t let me leave.”

He backhands me across the mouth before I can duck. “Don’t sass me, you little brat.”

I lick the blood off my lip, pretending it’s his and not mine. “Sorry.”

“You should be. I tried to do the responsible thing. Your mama took off and I kept you here, safe, for when she came back.” His smile is ugly.

“Well, looks like she ain’t coming back and if I’ve got my math right, you’re eighteen now. Time to pay your way or get out.”

“Great. Which way is the door?”

This time, I manage to avoid his flying hand, scuttling back on the floor until I reach the wall of the dingy living room and can go no farther. Never one to let an insult stand, Hank stomps close and leans down, his beer breath bathing my face. “You wouldn’t last an hour out there alone, not a

penny to your name.” He points to the window and the rundown streets of Baltimore beyond. “You know what happens to girls who look like you when they ain’t got a man to protect them? They end up on their knees in a public bathroom, just trying to make enough cash to eat off the dollar menu.

You’re lucky to have me.”

I was worried about this. Hank has been threatening to kick me out ever since my mother split for Mexico with a new man—a photographer she met downstairs stripping at the Review. Hank is dead in love with my mother.

But here’s the thing, hundreds of men have believed themselves in love with my mother since I was a child. She’s a modern-day siren, calling sailors toward the rocks, except she can’t sing for shit. It’s more about her amazing rack.

Anyway. Being in love with my mother is why Hank kept me around.

Hoping to earn points if she comes crawling back, broke and regretful. Look at me. I’m the husband and father you need.

Eye roll.

It has been six months, though, and my mother hasn’t even called.

Obviously Hank had a few drinks and a long-awaited male epiphany this afternoon and realized his lady love is gone for good. I saw this day coming and I had a feeling Hank has been bluffing about kicking me out. Men like Hank don’t cut their losses. No. They’re driven by getting the last word.

Apparently, I’m going to be the last word he gets against my mother.

I’ve been working up my courage for the last six months, just in case he actually stayed true to his threats and booted me to the curb. I could have snuck out my window long before now. Or simply walked out when he passed out drunk on the couch. But—and this pains me to admit—he’s right. I have no survival skills. My mother left my real father thinking she could make it on her own and she was blowing truck drivers within the week.

I don’t want that. I’m terrified of that.

But I’ve finally worked up the bravery to try. To find a job and a cheap place to sleep, until I have enough cash to get out of Baltimore. My other option is to stay in this rank, disgusting place with a man who hates me, thanks to my resemblance to mom. And that’s no option at all. It doesn’t seem like he’s giving me one, anyway.

“How do you propose I earn my keep when you won’t let me leave?”

I already know the answer and his wolfish expression confirms it. “Did your mama teach you any of her moves on the pole, girl?”

Heat rushes to my face. “No.” “Well, you better learn fast.” He reaches down and fists a hunk of my hair, dragging me toward the hallway of the apartment building. I scramble to crawl faster so I don’t lose all of the hair on the left side of my head.

Although maybe I should just let him rip it out. No one wants a half-bald stripper, right? And I most definitely don’t want to take my clothes off for men like Hank. God, the idea makes my skin crawl.

The closer we get to the hallway, the louder the drunken cheers downstairs become. Hank lives above his own strip club, because it’s convenient and also, I suspect, he might catch on fire if he actually leaves the building and is exposed to sunlight. I’ve never been inside the place, even when my mother was the headliner, but it appears I’m about to get the grand tour.

“You know something?” he grits out, yanking me to my feet and forcing me down the flight of stairs at the end of the hallway. “I hope your mama does come back so she can see what you’ll become. She wants to throw me away like yesterday’s coffee grounds? Well we’ll see who’s the garbage around here. She is. And now you will be, too.”

When we reach the bottom of the stairs, Hank hip-bumps a door and the lecherous cheering grows slightly louder. We’re in some kind of dressing room area. It’s dark. There’s a row of lockers and a girl hunched over on a bench, smoking a joint. She gives me a lazy once-over and gets back to puffing. I don’t blame her. She’s trying to make a living and well-paying jobs around here are scarce. I know from the years my mother and I spent living in motels, her struggling to stay legit while I went to school. Until Hank came along and promised to take care of us and she was too tired and broke to say no.

There’s another group of half-nude women up ahead and Hank propels me by the scruff of my neck into their midst, snarling, “Put her in something innocent. She’s about to give her first private show and some shithead is going to hand over his salary to watch it up close.” He starts to turn away but changes his mind and charges back. The girls scatter as he grabs me by the throat and tosses me up against a rattling locker. “You listen here. If you don’t satisfy whatever customer I send you, I will burn

every single one of your belongings. That little box of knick-knacks you think you’ve hidden under the floorboards? Think again. I’ll make you watch as I light it on fire.”

I’m shaking so hard, my back teeth chatter. This is how he did it. Forced my mother to work for years until her feet bled, then hand over every cent of her money, turning her into a dead-eyed robot. He threatened and terrified her until she gave up. “Please don’t do that.”

“I won’t. As long as you…” He raises a patronizing eyebrow.

“Satisfy the customer,” I rasp. “I’ll try.”

His eyes flash angrily, hand tightening around my throat. “You will.”

“I will. I will.”

“Good girl.” He rakes me with a glance, his gaze lingering on my breasts where they rise and fall beneath my mother’s old Nirvana tank top.

“I should have thought of this arrangement sooner.” He laughs while walking away. “Happy Birthday, Margaret.”

CHAPTER TWO

Lenin THIS PLACE IS trash. I wish to go back to my jigsaw puzzle at home.

Back in Moscow, strip clubs aren’t quite so obvious. They are more like a regular night club, less like an alcohol-fueled free-for-all. Alas, I suffer in this kind of environment no matter what. There is no control or predictability in a place where men are frustrated and women are making them so on purpose. I thrive on control. Having things in order, where they fit. In a place such as this, there is always some resentment in the air, coming from the stage and cheap seats alike. It annoyed and distracted me, so I said da when the sweaty, pale man offered me a private dance in another part of the club.

He reminded me of a gnat, buzzing around me, landing briefly with words like first-time dancer, special price, blah blah blah. I care about none of it. I simply wanted him to shut his mouth and it suited my purposes to leave the main floor with this man.

Where I can kill him with ease, as I’ve been hired to do. The contract was set up by his ex-business partner through my employer, but I care not for the details.

I let out a bored breath and let my elbow graze the Glock holstered at my side. This one isn’t even going to be a challenge. When my employer ordered the hit, I hung up without accepting right away. It only took me a few minutes of internet searching to confirm this man deserves to be put into the ground. Drug charges, soliciting prostitution in this very club.

Assault against a woman. That last one sealed the deal.

As soon as we’re alone, I’ll perform my duty and be home in time for Shark Tank.

That Barbara Corcoran is a shrewd one. I find I enjoy her insight very much.

But first, the job. It is just another task in a series of many. It is nearing its end, however. My debt to my employer is almost paid and then I will be

free to do my puzzles in peace. I follow the gnat man through a curtain of silver beads into a small lounge that, if possible, is even more disgusting than the main floor. The room glows in a neon blue light, doing nothing to hide the torn leather couches and stained industrial carpet. If the moans coming from the dark corners are any indication, the stains are not from spilled drinks.

I sigh and briefly close my eyes. “Is there somewhere more private?” I ask.

In a place like this, there always is. A backroom where men are allowed to do a lot more than receive a lap dance. For an increased fee, of course.

I merely want a place with no witnesses.

His answering laugh sets my teeth on edge. “Is that an accent? I didn’t notice it before. Where are you from, buddy? Russia or something?”

“Nyet. I’m from hell. Have you been?”

He thinks this is very funny and slaps his knee, giggling like a small child. “Perfect. This is perfect. You’re going to put that spoiled bitch right in her place.”

I assume by “spoiled bitch,” he’s talking about this first-time dancer— and these are words that don’t make sense to me. If she was spoiled, she wouldn’t be working in this godforsaken dump. First-time dancer. Spoiled.

Is she here against her will?

I find I do not like this idea very much at all.

Congratulations, gnat. You have earned an extra minute of breathing because I’m now interested in seeing the dancer. If I can help it, I never let women suffer, like so many women in my life did when I was a youth.

Powerless. Too young to help them.

I’m not powerless now.

I’m this piece of shit’s worst nightmare.

“As luck would have it,” says the gnat, “there is a backroom. But this here dancer…” Trying to play coy, he scratches the back of his neck, but dollar signs are in his eyes. “When I say she’s never danced. I mean she’s never danced, if you catch my drift. It’d cost you a pretty penny if you want more than a show.”

“You already knew I could afford it, though. That’s why you approached me, da?”

He sputters for a moment, looking over my pressed, gray suit. “You don’t exactly look look like my typical customer.”

“Thank you.”

“Hey,” he says, frowning. “These are decent, hard-working—” “Enough. Where is this girl? I will decide if she’s worth emptying my wallet over.” I study the cuff of my jacket. “Based on your talent working the main stage, I doubt it.”

Now he’s got something to prove, this child living in a man’s body.

“You just wait. There’s a reason I’ve kept her locked upstairs.”

Bastard. I grind my molars as he leaves the room, my hand itching to reach for the gun, twist on my silencer and aim. To end his miserable existence. Wherever the first-time dancer is, she will be freed once he takes his final breath. There’s no need to wait. But just as I’m about to follow him into whatever dark backroom he’s disappeared into, the silver beads swing —and my heart spikes down into my stomach, then rams up into my throat.

Angel.

It does not make sense to my brain that she is standing in this place. She belongs in the clouds. Or sitting on a silk pillow sipping champagne. Dear God, I’ve never seen anyone or anything so beautiful in my thirty-three years. Her dark hair is piled on top of her head, little pieces tickling her graceful neck. Her mouth is plump, brown eyes round and spirited. Scared, but brave. I will slaughter him for making you scared, angel.

How long has she been scared? Locked up?

A roar builds in my throat and my arm muscles seize. Adrenaline turns the slow pulse in my neck into a fast, staccato beat. I’m primed to kill.

I’m primed for more than that, though. My cock is pounding with lust, growing and stretching out in my pants. Hungry. I’m so hungry and my craving is her skin. I want to remove the long, blue, see-through robe she’s wearing and lick every inch of her body. Never before have I wanted a woman with this urgency. My couplings in the past were functions I performed as part of my job. Infiltrating places like this. Getting closer to the target through any means necessary.

Never for pleasure.

Having this angel beneath me would be all for pleasure. I’m prepared to spill my come just looking at her, smelling the light floral scent. She’s pleasuring me simply by existing.

I communicate to her with my eyes that I will save her. I will show her the true definition of being spoiled. Yes. That is to be my new job.

I train my eyes on the gnat and reach for my gun.

My step falters when the angel’s eyes widen and she gives me a small headshake.

“I-I want to dance for you. Sir.” She swallows and my balls grow heavy.

“Please?”

It’s the please that renders me motionless. I don’t think I can say no to this creature.

I think it might be…impossible?

In that moment, I realize the angel has a great weapon against me, indeed. From a young age, I’ve been forced to earn money to feed my destitute family by working for the Bratva. First lesson they taught me?

Weaknesses will get you killed. Still, I can’t stop myself from nodding and rasping, “Da. Whatever you wish.”

The gnat laughs knowingly and I swallow my venom. “Thought you might change your tune once you saw the merchandise.”

He pushes the angel in my direction and I catch her up against me. A groan leaves my mouth because she’s so lush and feminine, but I’m torn between absorbing the salvation of her soft curves—and putting a bullet in the man who dared to lay his hands on her. Up close, I can see the bruising at her temple, on the sides of her throat, and my lips peel back from my teeth. I open my mouth to tell her I’ve come to slay her tormentor, but I stop myself.

What if she does not want a cold-blooded killer?

What if I repulse her?

It would not be a surprise. She already can’t look too fondly upon men.

My code of honor—killing only those who warrant killing—might not sway her. After all, she is not from the brutal underground worlds where I cut my teeth. She is an innocent.

My dick hoists with that reminder and she gasps.

Nyet. I cannot scare her away. My debt to my employer will soon be paid and she’ll never have to know about my dark lifestyle.

“Please…” she says, going up on her tiptoes and whispering in my ear.

It’s euphoria. “Please just let me dance for you or he’ll—” “He’ll nothing,” I grind out. “He’ll do nothing to you ever again.”

She looks up into my eyes and casts a spell. “Why?” “Because…” What was I saying? My brain is not functioning at its usual pace. I can’t seem to focus on anything but the little tits pressed up against my chest. “Never mind how I’ll keep him from bothering you, angel. Just trust me.”

“Yeah, I don’t think so.”

Sweat forms on my spine. I don’t like her not trusting me. Only a few seconds of it and I’m miserable. “How can I make you trust me?”

“Tell me how to um…please you.” She looks back over her shoulder at the gnat, the pulse in her neck speeding up in obvious fear. “I have to please the customer. Teach me how.”

“You are not required to please me, angel. Not here. Not like this.”

She appears bewildered. “Why are you here if not for pleasure?”

To put a bullet between your tormentor’s eyes. I can’t say such a thing to this girl. Those words would soil her. I don’t like not telling her the truth. In fact, I loathe it. But I must allow her to believe I’m here for pleasure.

Otherwise she’ll ask more questions or grow suspicious that she’s dealing with someone unworthy and then she’ll never trust me. Or leave with me.

Da. That’s what I want more than anything. This angel to let me take her from this place. Perhaps if we go through with the dance, I can convince her to trust me. Go home with me.

There’s no way I’m letting her dance in front of an audience, though.

Especially not this gnat, who even now is rubbing his hands together. I hate giving him what he wants, but there’s no choice. Swallowing my distaste, I take out my wallet and remove the wad of hundred-dollar bills. All of it.

Without taking my eyes off the girl, I hand it to him over her shoulder. “Get the fuck out.”

Even though I’m not looking at him, I sense his eyes bugging out of his head. “You got it, man. Just knock on my office door when you’re done.

Don’t want her running off when she’s raking in this kind of cash.”

“Go.” Before I rip out your throat.

With a clang of beads, the gnat is gone and I’m alone with the angel.

She looks so small in the blue light, her eyes wide in her beautiful face.

Little treasure, so scared. It makes me want to howl like a maimed bear.

“What is your name?” I ask, aching to cup her cheek.

“Oh, um…”

“Your real one, if you please.”

She swallows. “Margaret.”

The name slides down my throat like a fine wine. “Margaret. I am Lenin.”

“Lenin.” I could jerk off for a decade to that single utterance of my name, but she’s looking too nervous for me to relax. “There are cameras.

We have to get started.”

“I’ve paid more than enough for you to take your time.”

That doesn’t make her relax. “You paid enough to do…everything. With me.” Her eyes drop to my crotch and she sucks in a breath. “Is that what you’re expecting?”

“Nyet. We do what makes you comfortable.”

“Sitting in a bubble bath with a book would make me comfortable. That doesn’t strike me as an option.”

If I had the capability to laugh, I would. She is clever on top of everything else? I’m struck with the sudden fear that I might have never met Margaret if I’d simply pulled the trigger, killed the gnat and disappeared into the night. That thought gives me great panic. “I will take you from this place right now, angel. I will draw you a bubble bath and send for enough books to fill a library. All you have to do is ask.”

“Stick with the devil you know. My mother used to say that.” She shakes her head. “I’m not going anywhere with you. Stripping sucks, but my head in a duffel bag sounds worse.”

I might as well have a bullet wound in my chest. And it wouldn’t be the first time. “I wouldn’t harm a hair on your head.”

Her brown eyes soften and she chews her luscious lower lip. She wants desperately to believe me. Desperately wants out of this place. But this one finds it hard to trust—and I respect that. I understand, but I want her confidence so much I’d sell my soul to get it. “Can you prove you won’t… harm me?”

“You said it yourself,” I respond. “I paid enough to have my way with you.”

“Yes,” she whispers.

“I will not do it, angel.” Much as my body is begging for otherwise. “I will not lay a finger on you without permission.”

“How do I know you’ll stay so noble once we leave?”

What I do next is a risk, but I can think of no other option. The movements feel unnatural—giving up my weapon. But I angle my body to block the camera and show her the gun in my jacket. “Take the gun now, if you wish. I won’t stop you. That would give you two weapons against me.”

She blinks down at the gun, up at me. “What is the other one?”

“Every fucking thing about you.”

Her breath catches. “We just met.”

“Da. When you know, you know. My mother used to say that.”

The corner of her mouth tilts up. “I’ll think about your offer. But…keep the gun for now.” Her eyes go the camera and she shakes herself, as if remembering something. “Will you sit down, please?”

I drop down onto the cushion, hooking my arms over the backrest. My thighs shift and widen out of necessity, thanks to the space my erection takes up. “It seems important that you dance for me, angel. Why?” Margaret starts to confide but shoots the camera another look and closes her mouth. “Just tell me what…” She tucks a loose hair behind her ear.

“What do men like?”

“Men who get lap dances, you mean?”

Briefly, she pouts. “Men like you, I guess.”

Acid singes my throat. “In time you will know I’m nothing like the men in this place, angel.” We both spend a few seconds looking at my cock. It’s not something that can be avoided at its full size. “Come closer and let me start proving it.” She takes a bracing breath, then steps between my outstretched legs. Hesitantly, her fingertips skim up my thighs and I battle back a moan. “Blyad.”

Margaret has no idea the picture she creates in her long, blue lingerie.

Azure light fans out around her, shadowing her gorgeous face and suddenly I’m a dying man looking up at an angel guarding the gates of heaven. Only, she’s a sexy angel with a little triangle of blue silk hiding her pussy and the barest hint of lace covering her tits. Her thighs. Goddammit. They are smooth and young enough to make me feel guilty, but not enough to stop looking. She’s a feast and all I have to do to gorge myself is put her beneath me on this couch. I could wedge my hips between her thighs, pin her with my upper body and fit my fat cock inside her. Ram it, ram it, ram it until my balls are empty. No one would stop me.

Bastard. Look at her eyes. You’re losing yourself.

With a hard swallow and a silent apology to Margaret for momentarily letting lust control my mind, I begin to instruct her. It’s important for her to dance and thus it is important to me. I’ve never paid for a dance such as this, but I’ve witnessed enough men succumbing to their weaknesses to know how it’s done. “Begin by teasing me, angel. Touch your beautiful body. Make me wish your hands are mine.” My cock surges against my zipper when her fingertips glide up her hips and ribcage. There is music coming from the main stage. It’s muffled, but enough to provide her body with a beat and she sways to it, side to side. “Reveal yourself to me,” I rasp.

“Slowly.”

Margaret plucks at the bow holding the sides of her sheer robe together.

My mouth dries up at the sound of silk sliding on silk. With nimble fingers, she begins to part the sides of her robe, but turns before I can get an unobstructed look at her tits and pussy. What I get instead is see-through material dropping away to reveal her high, plump, little butt cheeks in a baby blue thong and my dick jerks, releasing a spurt of semen into my pants.

My groan is obscene. “Margaret. I will one day eat that pretty ass to kingdom come.”

She gasps and looks back at me over her shoulder. “You…you’re already seeming pleased and I haven’t even started.”

“Yes, angel, it pleases me to look at you a great fucking deal.”

Something new dances across her expression. Something like confidence. She reaches back and unhooks her bra. Keeping it cupped to her tits, she turns and after a brief hesitation, straddles my lap. I’m barely recovered from the sight of her belly and the stretched silk over her pussy when her weight settles onto my thighs—and she slides closer by accident, her cunt colliding with my bulge, our mouths coming within an inch of each other. “Oh,” she whimpers as I try not to come. “I guess I need some practice.”

“Da,” I say hoarsely, rolling my hips and panting at the sensation of silky pussy dragging on my dress pants. “As long as this practice happens on Lenin’s lap only.”

A puff of air leaves her. “You’re so affected by me,” she whispers in awe. “I thought this would make me feel small and nervous, but…is it strange that I feel in control of what’s happening for the first time…ever?”

I like the excited bloom of color on her cheeks, so I lift my hips again and her coloring deepens, a quiet moan passing her lips. Yes. Responsive girl. Margaret is going to soak my sheets in her come as soon as I can manage it. I’m going to gratify her until she forgets the direction of the sky.

“Do you feel this way because I promised not to touch you?”

“Yes. You’re letting me feel free, but…” Beneath hooded eyelids, she scrutinizes my face and looks almost shy. “There’s something about you that makes me want to stay…”

My chest floods with pride and relief. “You’ve been lacking in control, my poor angel,” I lean forward and breathe into her neck, vowing to put a diamond necklace there. “I’m sorry. Take it now. Take, if it will make you trust me.”

Her exhale is uneven, her head falling back. A beat of time passes wherein I sense her softening, giving me an inch of trust. Perhaps even allowing her body to explore what I’m making it feel. I groan loudly when her pussy finally begins to circle on my cock and we lock eyes. Drowsy, innocent girl ones versus those of a starved, seasoned male.

“D-do you want to see me here?” Margaret murmurs, leaning back and indicating her still-covered tits. Only the lace cups remain and she needs only drop the bra and I’ll be looking upon her breasts fully. No barrier. “Do you, Lenin?”

My hips thrust upward violently at her saying my name and I growl.

Her expression is startled—yet excited—when she gains air, her backside smacking back down into my lap a split second later. “Show me.” My fingers dig into the back of the leather couch. “Please.”

Seeming to hold her breath, she drops the bra and I rip through the leather, balling the shreds of it in my shaking fists. Her breasts are round and tipped in pink. Jiggly little things that make my mouth water and once again test my willpower. One flip and she’d be flat on her back. She might not even fight me if I shoved her legs open and fucked this lust away. Lust I’ve never felt for anyone but her.

“I love this,” she whispers, her voice shaking. “I’m not sure I should.”

“Anything with me is right, angel. Shake your pretty tits at me, torture and tease me with that virgin hole between your thighs and you will stay safe. You understand me? Lenin keeps you safe. Even from himself.

Always.”

“I’ve never felt like this…” she muses, arching her back and riding my cock with tight, sexy hip thrusts, tempting my balls to explode with every sensual movement. “Like what I want…matters.” A shudder passes through her. “Lenin. Oh. That feels g-good.”

I’m groaning so loud I can barely hear, but I struggle to retain what she’s telling me. The way to Margaret’s trust—and maybe even her heart— is to give her back some of the control she’s been lacking. That’s been taken away from her. If it means she’ll stay mine, I’ll give her anything. The universe will be hers. Especially if taking back control means she rubs her sweetheart pussy on my dick. I can keep a leash on my willpower. I can do that for Margaret. For her, I will suffer through anything. And maybe when she trusts me more, I will be given the gift of my hands on her perfect, peachy skin.

She’s fucking me through my pants now, though I’m not sure if she’s aware of it. Her mouth is open, brown eyes blind as she slides up and down on my cock. I know the moment she discovers the location of her clitoris, because she gasps and then her hips make much smaller movements. She leans forward and her tits press on my stomach. She rubs that tiny nub on the hard ridge of my cock, whimpering and moaning. There is no greater privilege than slowly undulating my lower body for her enjoyment, watching this gorgeous little creature use my cock like her personal toy.

I’ve never needed to release my spend with such desperation in my life.

Until now, giving in and stroking the pent-up pressure from my body was considered a weakness, but with Margaret, it’s a strength. My come is now praise for her skill. It’s what will give us babies when I finally get inside of her. It’s proof that I’ve been allowed to touch an angel.

Keep her.

I will keep her, this amazing girl who spreads her beautiful thighs wide and masturbates herself on my dick with such abandon. She contains such magic, even though she’s been locked away, treated poorly. Her spirit is intact and I want only to nurture it.

The pain inside me builds to a fever pitch and I rip off more of the couch leather, biting down on my lip until blood is drawn. “Blyad. Angel, you’ll make me go insane.”

“Lenin,” she whines, her fingers twisting in the lapels of my jacket.

“I’m going to…”

I thrust up my lower body like a saddle for her pleasure. “That’s right, angel. Keep your little cunt on my lap and let me bounce you around. We can pretend it’s just a game and you’ll stay an innocent girl.”

Her eyes fly to mine and they’re fevered. Excited. Even more than before.

There’s something here. Something she needs—and that means I need it, too.

“Bounce me.” She nods vigorously. “Please.”

I put my mouth to her ear and punch my hips up hard. “Bounce you like Daddy’s good little girl?”

She lands on my lap with a scream and I growl in response, feeling her warm cream through my pants, wishing she was letting it out all over my mouth and chin, where I could lick it up. I rock my hips hard, helping her ride out her shaking, crying orgasm, but I force my own release down with a brutal yell. My intention was to come, but…

I’m fucking in love. I’m in love with Margaret and I will not climax again until the head of my cock is pressed up against her womb, making her the mother of my children. I can’t stand to waste what’s inside me before then. I’m momentarily blind with the frustration and I tear another hole in the couch as Margaret continues to sob against my chest, her pussy now warm and pliant where it cradles my dick, stroking it through my pants.

A moment later, I’m looking up into Margaret’s flushed face. She blinks at me, her attention dropping to the shredded leather in my hands.

“Okay, fine…” she pants. “I’ll go with you.”

I bare my teeth in victory. “This means you trust me, angel?”

“I think I might,” she whispers. “There’s something I need to get first from upstairs, though.” Still seemingly dazed, she worries her lip. “Will you help me? Hank might have already hidden it. If he knows I’m coming to take it, he’ll find a way to destroy it.”

My eyebrows pull together. “This is why you danced for me, isn’t it?”

“Yes. He told me he would burn it, if I didn’t please the customer.” A beat passes. “But I don’t think you’ll let that happen.”

I grunt my happiness, though I have a strange impulse to laugh again.

She trusts me. I’ve done it. “That gnat will not give us a problem.”

She smiles, bright and dazzling. “The gnat?”

My heart inflates like a hot-air balloon. “Da. He is an annoying insect, nothing more.” I nod. “We will get this thing you need.”

“Thank you,” she breathes. “This is all happening very fast.”

“Fast is good. Fast makes me happy when it comes to you.”

Margaret dresses once again in her bra and see-through robe, her movements nimble and elegant. I’m dying to kiss her. Craving her mouth.

Next time. Next time she will ask for my mouth by name and I’ll provide.

Tearing my eyes off her beautiful face, I take her hand and lead her into the dark hallway. Before we’ve taken five steps, the gnat emerges from his office, my money still in his sweaty grip. “There they are. Worth every penny, wasn’t she?” He dares to look at my angel. “Looks like you did inherit some moves from your mother—” I knock him out cold with a right cross, his head rebounding off the door jamb, his flimsy body landing in a heap. With a bored sigh, I step over him and retrieve a set of keys from his desk, returning and handing them to Margaret. “Let’s go get your stuff. I need to take my angel somewhere worthy of her.”

She looks down at the gnat with wide eyes. I fear I’ve shown her my violent side, even though I’ve tried to avoid it by sparing the gnat’s life.

Finally, she lifts her chin and I sense a slight wariness there. I hold my breath, but she takes off down the hallway. “I’ll be just a minute.” She stops and turns. “Did you really mean it about the bubble bath and books?”

“I’ll never say anything to you I don’t mean.”

She looks down at the gun in my jacket. “What about the things you’re not saying?”

I don’t have an answer for that. I can only follow her, protecting her back as she climbs the stairs. I can love her, treat her like a princess, guard her with my life.

But would she want those things if she knew I’m a killer?

CHAPTER THREE

Margaret MY LIFE JUST got so much more intense.

Who is this woefully hot Russian dude and what was he doing in Hank’s All Nude Review? His strict demeanor, his expensive suit and the black Escalade he’s driving make him the furthest thing from strip joint clientele you can get. I think. After all, today was my first—and apparently last—day of work.

From my position in the passenger seat, I sneak another look to Lenin.

If that’s his real name. He must be some kind of wizard, because I was definitely under a spell during the lap dance. One minute I was petrified I would fail to please him and the shoebox I’m now clutching would be destroyed by my stepfather. And the next? I wasn’t thinking about anything but stoking the new fire inside me higher and higher until it burned me down.

I’ve woken up after a sexy dream before and pressed down on the flesh between my legs until fleeting relief came. Those times were orgasms, yes, but they weren’t anywhere near as satisfying as the one I had on Lenin’s lap. Lord, I’m still buzzing from it. My skin is sensitive and I can feel every inhale and exhale that leaves my body. I came by it so shamefully, too, writhing around on his arousal like an animal in heat.

Bounce you like Daddy’s good little girl?

My core clenches like a fist and I swallow a gasp. What does it mean that Lenin calling himself my Daddy wrought such an overwhelming response from my body? My real father barely spared me a glance and I hate him for the harm he inflicted on my mother. The idea of him laying a finger on me is repulsive and I never called him daddy. Lenin, though… calling him by that title excites me. Not just because of the word itself, but what it represents. Someone to actually care for me. About me. Lenin seems to. However, if I learned anything from my mother and the life she led, it’s to keep caution and place trust only sparingly.

Especially when it comes to men who carry guns and swing their fists as easy as breathing.

“Where are you taking me?”

Lenin nods at the navigator screen. “The Inner Harbor.” I feel his sharp gaze skimming over me from behind his dark shades. “You need something to eat.”

My stomach turns over at the mere mention of food and his lips quirk at one end. I’ll say one thing for Lenin, he’s like no man I’ve come across.

One, none of my mother’s boyfriends carried around giant wads of cash.

Two, none of them exhibited any manner of self control. And three, their needs always came first.

Get me a beer, woman.

I’m hungry.

Tell your brat to shut up.

No matter how hard I try, I can’t imagine Lenin saying any of these things to me. Or am I just so accustomed to the scum of the earth that I’m painting a picture of him he’s going to destroy as soon as I let my guard down? Don’t let your guard down.

He has a gun.

“Yeah.” I clear my rusty throat. “I guess I could go for a bite.”

He hums sympathetically, but his powerful hands tighten on the steering wheel, making the leather groan. “When is the last time you ate?”

“Saltines and some peanut butter. Maybe yesterday?” Pride sends my chin up a notch. “I’m not complaining. It’s my favorite snack.”

A muscle jumps in his cheek. “No, you do not seem the type to complain.”

“No.” I think of the hard shaft left unsatisfied between his legs. “Neither do you.”

“I have many complaints right now, Margaret. They will be taken care of when you are fed and soaking in this bubble bath you requested.”

“What’s in this for you, Lenin?” I blurt. “Why do you want to feed me and soak me?”

He’s quiet until we pull to a red light and he looks over, his eyes hidden behind black lenses. “You already find trusting me difficult, angel. I worry that if I explain my feelings, you will grow even more skittish with me.”

“Skittish?” I wrinkle my nose. “Ouch.”

He sighs. “You are adorable.”

“Double ouch.”

The light turns green. We pull into the intersection. “See? I am already fucking this up.”

On impulse, I reach over and lay my hand on his arm, fascinated when his whole body shudders at the simple touch, his white teeth flashing. “Tell me. I won’t grow more skittish.” I twist my lips. “I can’t promise I won’t get more adorable.”

He laughs softly and my skin prickles deliciously at the sound. Ooh. Am I flirting? I’m not terrible at it. My mother must have passed on her skills.

“Margaret…” He makes a right turn and the glittering nighttime harbor comes into view ahead, but I only spare it a brief glance because, oh my God, the tips of his ears are red. “I cannot describe what happened inside me when you walked into the room earlier. You made my cock hard, yes, I won’t lie about this. But I knew right away…your spirit is one to be protected at all costs. It is a beautiful one and I’m humbled you’d trust me with this mission.” His Adam’s apple bobs. “There was an angel in my midst and I’m just enough of a bastard to be greedy for all of her.” The leather on the steering wheel creaks again. “I want all of you.”

The air has completely left me, but it takes every ounce of my willpower not to squirm in my seat. I can’t decide if I should climb into his lap and grind out another orgasm—classy—or throw open the passenger door at the next red light and run for my life. This man is the kind of intense that doesn’t quit. We’ve only known each other for an hour…and already, I don’t think he’ll ever let me go. On one hand, that excites and comforts me.

On the other, I know too well what it’s like to be trapped. I don’t feel that way now, with Lenin, but what if I do in the future? This was supposed to be my escape, but I’m already in a man’s web.

I swallow hard as his huge bicep shifts under his jacket sleeve.

What a sexy web to be stuck in, though, right?

“There are hotels in the Harbor. Nice ones. We could stay for tonight.”

Now I’ve got even more questions. “You can’t take me to your place?”

His hard face remains stoic. “Time for a change.”

My stomach sinks. “You’re not married, are you?”

He scoffs. “Nyet. I don’t even own house plant.” His gaze lands on me.

“Now I have a girl to look after. Very ambitious of me.”

“Maybe you should have started with a parakeet.”

Lenin shakes his head. “You make me want to laugh, Margaret.”

“Why don’t you just laugh, then?”

He considers this for a moment, then makes a punctuated ha ha ha sound that sound more like spaced out cracks of thunder. “How was that?”

“We’ll work on it.”

A minute later, Lenin pulls up alongside a tall, stone building with ivy climbing up the side. He exits and hands his keys to a man in a blue jacket marked Valet. Then he opens my door and assists me to the curb. The night air is cold and blows my old, loose T-shirt around—which I changed into while packing in a hurry—but before I can shiver, Lenin wraps me in his suit jacket and pulls me into an embrace. The shoebox I’m holding is wedged between us and I wish it wasn’t there. He’s so incredibly warm and smells like chimney smoke floating in winter air. I’d like to wrap him around me and sleep for a thousand years.

It’s scary how much he makes me want to let my walls down.

Where did he come from, though? Why was he in the club tonight?

He tips my chin up and kisses my forehead, distracting me from my worries. “We’ll check in to the hotel first, then go find somewhere to eat.

Da?” I nod and let him continue to hold me. Maybe I’m being complacent or too gullible, but I just want to live the next few hours without fear. Fear I’m going to get kicked out onto the street, fear I won’t be able to scrounge up a meal. Fear in general. Lenin is giving me that and if I’m a fool to take it, so be it. I’ll go back to being a cynical jerk tomorrow.

Lenin holds me against his side as we enter the hotel lobby and I’m glad he covers me, because I’m way underdressed for this place. It’s got a milewide chandelier, sparkling floors and giant flower arrangements. Staff bustle through with luggage carts and piano music drifts softly through the interior. Lenin keeps me by his side as he checks us in to a room and requests my things be taken to our room. About ten minutes later, we’re walking across the street toward the many restaurants that line the harbor.

“Kind of presumptuous of you to book only one room, Lenin,” I say, giving

him a mock stern look. “I don’t suppose it had anything to do with me getting naked and climbing all over you earlier.”

“Are you being sarcastic, angel?” He grunts. “You’re very good at it.”

“That’s all you have to say? You’re not going to make an excuse about conserving money or—” He looks at me like I’m insane. “Nyet.” He guides me into an Italian restaurant and we stop in front of the hostess station. “I’m going crazy needing to fuck you, Margaret. This is why we book only one room.”

The hostess blinks over at us with owl eyes.

“Table for one,” Lenin says, arching a dark brow at me. “Unless you’d prefer two.”

Laughter tickles my throat. “Honey, you made a joke!”

His only response is a grunt, but I detect a smile.

He’s deep in thought on the way to our table, glowering at every man in the packed dining room. Even the senior citizens. When we sit, he drags my chair closer and hits me with a frown. “You’ll call me ‘honey’ from now on.

It’s nice.”

Enjoyment rushes through me. Who knew life could be fun?

Lenin is making it that way.

I’m thinking about climbing him again. If we weren’t in a restaurant, I might, but we’re in public, so maybe I’ll just keep flirting. His responses make me feel like I have control over the situation. No matter what I say or do, I know he won’t force me to do anything I’m not ready for. He made that much obvious when he shredded the couch while I lap danced him. I mean, he could have done anything he wanted to me—and he didn’t. I think…I think I might be safe.

Teasing him, flirting with him, even driving him crazy feels safe.

Have I ever felt safe?

Beneath the table, I let my fingertips walk up his thigh. His leg flexes into steel under my touch and he tugs on his collar. I trace his belt buckle with my index finger and he breathes my name. “You really want me to call you ‘honey’?” I tuck my finger just inside his pants. “I thought we settled on ‘Daddy.’”

He closes his eyes and breathes heavily for a moment. When he looks at me again, I witness a man burning on the inside. “Is it your plan to strip me of my sanity, angel?”

I lean up and whisper against his ear. “You really want to call me ‘angel’?”

“That is what you are,” he answers, voice harsh.

“But, um…” My own face flushes when I admit the next part. “I liked when you called me your good little girl.”

His mouth finds mine and consumes it with a growl. Lenin’s big body turns toward mine, his knee finding my core and pressing—and I’m instantly wet, soaking my panties and the material of his pants. He moves his knee side to side while tonguing my mouth and I whimper, trying to leave my chair and mount his beckoning lap. I want. I want the safety and satisfaction he gives me. I need to return it. What has he done to me?

“Enough, little girl.”

Lenin cracks the words like a whip and I fall back into my chair, laboring for oxygen. My nipples are in awful, aching peaks and my senses snap and simmer. But my body obeys Lenin’s order, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. It seems I can flirt and drive him mad, but he is the boss. My God, I’m so turned on by that, I can barely stand it.

Without a doubt, I’ve found something I need.

Maybe even the only man who makes me need it.

Please let this be real. Please let him be right. Not a trap.

I watch with starved eyes as he blots his upper lip with the white table napkin, nodding at the waiter who comes to stand by the table. “Does pasta sound good to you, angel?”

“Anything sounds good.” Lenin points out a few things to the waiter on the menu and the man returns quickly with a bread basket, a glass of red wine and a beer, leaving them on the table and departing as fast as he came.

“I think you make him nervous,” I say to Lenin, trying not to look desperate as I reach for a piece of bread.

“Do I make you nervous?”

“Yes. But not for the same reason.”

He frowns. “We will work on this.” When I nod slowly, his big shoulders relax and he pulls my chair closer, cursing in Russian when it won’t come any further. He watches me plow through a dinner roll and hands me another. “Will you tell me what is in the shoebox, Margaret?”

I pause, mid-chew. “Oh, um…”

“It is personal?”

“Yes, but I want to tell you,” I say, truthfully. “Horse figurines.”

I love that he isn’t surprised, only curious. “They are special to you.”

“Yes.” I pick up my napkin and twist it around my fingers. “When I was ten, my mother took me to a farm and we went horseback riding. It was the best day. Ever. Just her and me and we stayed all day, feeding the horses and giving them all silly names. When we were leaving, she stole the figurines from the farmer and surprised me with them on the bus ride home.” I shrug. “I know stealing isn’t right, but she’s never done anything by the book. That’s just my mother. If I didn’t have those horses, I wouldn’t have anything to remember her by.”

Lenin is quiet. “Then I’m glad you have them.” He picks up my hand and kisses the small of my wrist, sending a gust of giddiness into my stomach. “It pains me that you were forced to dance for me to save them. If you’d only asked, I would have torn down the building to find them and lay them at your feet.”

“I think I know that now,” I whisper.

“Good.” His tongue traces the veins at my wrist. “I find I can’t regret you rubbing your creamy little cunt on me until you drenched my zipper.”

My moan, my pulse, my brainwaves are choppy. Why do these forbidden words sound so amazing coming from his mouth? “I can’t seem to regret it, either.”

“Mmmm. You’ll rub that sweet cunt on my face later, Margaret.” He tongues my palm. “All over my tongue and chin and cheeks. Then I’ll kiss that mess back onto your pretty face while I mate you like a fucking animal.”

“Oh,” I wheeze, my feminine flesh constricting painfully. “Oh.” An affirmative rumble leaves his chest. “Let’s get back to the horses.”

Sensory overload. “The…what?”

“Horses, Margaret.” Appearing half amused, half predatory, Lenin traces my lower lip with the pad of his thumb. “I will bring you to ride horses. Would this make you happy?”

My spine straightens. “You’d do that?”

Lenin is visibly affronted that I would doubt him. “Of course. We will give them silly names, too. Like…Joe.” I giggle. “Joe?” “It is a silly name for a horse, is it not?”

“Why the long face, Joe?” I give a firm nod. “I like it.”

He is very pleased with himself.

“Are you going to steal me something?”

“I will merely ask for whatever it is you wish, Margaret. Firmly.”

Not for the first time, I sense darkness inside of Lenin, but I’m too warm, safe and full of carbs to question it tonight. Maybe tomorrow. And then our food arrives and I sip my wine while enjoying the best meal I’ve ever eaten.

Life is good.

But only for now? Or forever?

CHAPTER FOUR

Lenin PERHAPS I SHOULD not have been so blunt with my Margaret about wanting to fuck her tonight.

We are inside the hotel room and she looks like she’s being marched toward the gallows. I must admit, I find the change in her mood confusing since she did her utmost to make me come in my pants back at the restaurant. She is a complicated little beauty and I’m almost sick with lust, anxious beyond belief to bed her, but I don’t like the way she’s wringing her hands and trying to melt into the wall. Something must be done to fix this.

When she isn’t smiling, I get itchy.

She should always be smiling.

Deep in thought over how to ease her nerves, I make a quick observation of the room. It is nice. In my profession, I would normally sweep the room for listening devices or cameras, to be on the safe side.

Next I would go to the window and memorize the layout of the immediate area. Then I would review the information on my target, clean my gun and prepare for the hit. The room would be inconsequential to me. Merely a place to rest so I can be sharp when it counts.

Now, however, I observe it with an eye toward worthiness of Margaret.

I booked the biggest room available, but I suspect anything less than a palace would leave me unsatisfied when it comes to where she sleeps. Still, it is safe and tasteful with its glowing crystal lamps, mirrored furniture, thick white carpeting and separate bedroom. Art depicting Paris and Spain hang on the walls. The living area is laid out in front of a big picture window, the Inner Harbor sparkling below.

For tonight, it will do.

I take off my jacket and shoulder holster, hanging them carefully on the back of a chair. We watch each other while I undo the buttons at my wrists and roll up my sleeves. There are matters I have to attend to soon, such as the forty missed calls from my employer on my phone. Tonight marks the

first time since my youth that I have not completed a mission. Ironically, this job was meant to be my last. When I was sixteen, I struck a deal with the Bratva to get my family out of debt and from that moment forward, they owned me. Now they loan me out to smaller crime syndicates all over the globe. From every one of my substantial paychecks, the Bratva takes a cut.

Tonight I was going to get out forever, with one final hit.

My employer will not be happy that I let the gnat live.

Right now, Margaret is more important than all of that. Even my own life being at risk.

“Time for your bath, da?”

Her swallow is audible. “Oh, are we still doing that?”

“I follow through on my promises, angel.”

She hums, looking around the room. “This is beautiful, Lenin.”

My groan can’t be trapped. When she says my name in that breathless voice, she might as well be sucking my cock. I clear my throat. “It is sufficient.”

When I pass Margaret to enter the bathroom, she draws in a quick breath, releasing it in what seems like relief when I don’t touch her. Her actions create a weird feeling in my belly. Hurt, perhaps? I’m not sure what hurt feels like, so I can’t be sure. To distract myself, I turn on the bathroom light and fill the bathtub with water, adding enough lavender-scented body wash to make bubbles foam in abundance on the surface. When I’m finished, I turn to find Margaret standing in the doorway of the bathroom, watching me.

“Thank you.”

I nod and start to leave the bathroom so she can have some privacy, but I stop in my tracks when she lays a hand on my arm. “Lenin?”

My shaft grows stiff, elongating in my pants. “Yes?” My chews her lip, apparently unaware of the physical predicament she puts me in just by speaking, breathing, existing. “It’s just that…a-and it’s not like I’ve given a ton of thought to when or how I would lose my virginity, but I thought there would be like, I don’t know, three or four dates first. A-and a bunch of kissing leading up to the main throw down. You know?”

“I have no plans to throw you down.”

“I didn’t mean that literally.”

“However, in the future, there will be times when I do throw you down, Margaret.”

An uneven laugh sails out of her. “Can we just focus on this first time, please?”

“I am very focused on it, angel.”

She blows out a breath. “Noticed that.”

It’s totally possible I’m wrong, but I think her adorable rambling has given me an understanding of why she’s suddenly nervous around me.

“Will we spend some time kissing and going on dates before I fuck you, Margaret?”

Her mouth opens and closes. “You would do that?”

“It will be painful, but it’s more painful to have you scared of me.”

She frowns. “I’m not scared of you. I’m scared of, um…”

“Tell me.”

“You know.” She glances down at my cock and turns pink. “The pain.”

I lift a hand and cup her cheek. “It’s my job to make sure the pleasure outweighs the pain your first time, Margaret.” My thumb travels over the soft, plumpness of her lower lip. “And I take my job very seriously.”

Margaret regards me for a moment before stepping closer, seemingly fascinated with my chin. “You’re not frustrated?”

“Nyet. You almost gave me a hand job in the restaurant and tell me you like to be called little girl by Lenin, now you want to wait. It makes perfect sense to me.”

A smile spreads across her face. “Oh wow. That was some serious sarcasm.”

I pinch my index finger and thumb together. “Maybe a little bit. I’m learning from the best.”

She laughs quietly. “I like you.”

My heart expands to the point of nearly exploding out of my chest.

“You do?” I release a breath I didn’t know I was holding. “That is good, angel.”

“I’m going to take my bath now.”

I grunt. “And then we kiss for a while.”

“Yes.” She presses her lips together and casts a glance toward the bathtub. “Are you going to watch me?”

“That would be my preference.”

Her cheeks bloom with color. “Okay.” She leaves me to walk toward the tub and I mourn the loss of her body heat. My blood grows hot as molten metal when she removes her T-shirt and bares her tits. I’m incapable of stopping myself from reaching down and running the heel of my hand up and down the ridge of my cock. The most beautiful creature in the world is giving me a private show. It’s impossible to believe I’ve gotten so lucky after the life I’ve led, but I’m powerless to do anything but enjoy as Margaret unzips her tiny shorts and lets them drop, leaving her in nothing but the blue panties she wore before. Knowing they still carry her orgasm makes me insane to give her another one.

She flips her long, dark hair and regards me over her shoulder. I wish to commission a painting of the sight, it’s such perfection. Just as I commit it to memory, she leans forward slowly, bracing her hand on the edge of the tub to test the temperature. The movement thrusts out her backside, and I salivate over the smooth, round mounds of her ass, the way her panties hug those curves. Someday I’ll push those cheeks apart and drive my tongue into her little virgin asshole until she screams for Daddy.

Her panties slip down her thighs next and I sink my teeth into my lower lip until I taste blood. Bent over as she is, I can see her pussy from behind and it’s everything I can do not to mount her like a beast. In excruciating pain, I have to turn away from the sight of her and breathe deeply, counting to ten and back.

“Lenin.” I hear her sink into the bath. “Why won’t you, um…relieve yourself?”

With a heavy swallow, I drop my head against the wall, although I’d like to slam it full force. “My body has been creating this seed since I met you, so every drop inside my balls is precious. I can only give you this particular load once.”

There’s some shifting in the water and I imagine her soaping her pussy.

“I can’t believe you made balls sound so romantic,” she says a little breathlessly.

Despite my painful arousal, my lips turn up at the ends. “I’m glad you think so.” I allow myself one more stroke through my pants and remove my hand, bracing it on the wall. “Do you mind if I get comfortable?”

“Of course not.”

I unbutton my shirt and free it from my waistband. Knowing she is going to see my tattoos, I hesitate, but hiding them forever isn’t realistic, so I exhale and remove my shirt, watching her over my shoulder for a reaction.

I don’t get what I’m expecting. Instead of fear, I see curiosity. And attraction. Yes, definitely that. She shifts in the bathtub and I growl low in my chest when her pink nipples harden amidst the bubbles. “Do you like what you see, Margaret?”

She nods slowly, her bee-stung lips parting on a shaky breath. “Some of those tattoos seem kind of…symbolic. Like badges of honor.”

“More duty than honor, in my case,” I say softly. “Someday I will explain them to you, angel.” I pause. “You have nothing to fear from me.

Ever. You know that?”

Again, she nods. “I can’t be scared of you when you make me feel so powerful,” she murmurs. “You could take what you want from me so easily, but you let me believe I’m in control of what happens between us.”

I notice a shadow cross her face and want to banish it. “There’s more.”

“Yeah.” Her eyes darken. “This power you give me…it makes me want to test it. Like teasing you in the restaurant or…undressing for you. I never would have pegged myself for a tease, but…”

“But you’re only that way with me. You know I will not break.”

“Yes. So it’s safe to try and break you. I’m awful aren’t I?” “There is nothing awful about you, Margaret. You’re magnificent. And you may torture me to your heart’s content. Lenin can take it.” I don’t know what to do with my hands suddenly. “It means you like me, when you do this teasing, so…it is very much worth the frustration.”

“I like you all the time.” After the smallest hesitation, she sets aside the soap and stands, sending a waterfall of suds down her front. My cock jerks, releasing a spurt of semen down the leg of my pants. And a second one breaks past my body’s defenses when she says, “I want to start kissing now, Lenin.”

CHAPTER FIVE

Margaret WHAT AM I going to do about this man?

Every time I remind myself to be wary, he proves himself trustworthy.

Or he says something that calms me, makes me laugh, feel special, sexy.

Important.

Did I mention he’s stupid hot?

In his suit, he was a ten. Now he’s just walking toward me like King of the Tattooed Bad Boys and every step makes muscles bunch and roll beneath his inked skin. If someone ran head first into the muscular planes of his chest, they would get a concussion. His nipples are reddish brown, puckered like mine, because I’m pretty sure we’re both excited about the kissing. No, he’s definitely excited. His erection is going to bust the zipper of his pants at any moment. It has to be painful, but he’s still sauntering like a badass, that jaw flexing, his eyes smoky and intense as they drift over my naked body.

Yeah, I want to kiss now.

Lenin stops in front of me and drops his hand, massaging the bulge in his pants. “You’re not teasing me, are you, angel? You’re going to let me lie with your naked body and kiss that sweet mouth?”

“Yes,” I whisper.

He groans, long and low, that hand tight on his sex, moving, squeezing.

“Life with you is going to be beautiful torture, Margaret.”

Before I can respond, he grips my hips and plucks me out of the bathtub. My feet have barely touched the floor when I’m swept up in Lenin’s arms and being carried toward the bedroom. My heart raps against my ribs but not from nerves. I’m one hundred percent positive Lenin won’t cross the line we’ve drawn, no matter what. Even if I tempt him out of his mind.

And God, I crave the chance to tempt him to cross the line.

Who knew I was such a tormentor?

I can’t help it, though. His willpower has given me permission to embrace a part of myself I didn’t know existed. Maybe it never would have existed without him.

The smell of his skin is earthy, male, and I inhale it on the way to the bedroom. I’m playing with the idea of licking his clavicle to find out if his scent has a taste, but I don’t get the chance because he’s laying me down in the center of the king-sized bed, my body wet and naked. The fire in Lenin’s eyes convinces me he’s going to pin me to the mattress and attack my mouth, so I’m surprised when he lies down beside me instead, the muscles in his jaw, chest and stomach flexing in the lamp light. He scoots closer, until only an inch of space exists between us, and cups my face in a warm hand.

“It occurs to me we’re both virgins in this situation,” he murmurs. “I’ve never made out like a teenager. I thought this is something that only happens in American movies.”

His mouth is inviting me to come closer and I do, my naked thighs pressing against his clothed ones. “For starters, I don’t think any of the participants are supposed to be naked.”

Lenin winks at me and everything south of my equator melts like chocolate in the sunshine. He runs a single fingertip down the middle of my body, starting at my neck and finishing with a lap around my belly button.

“We make our own rules, da?”

“Da,” I breathe.

Lenin is chuckling when our lips meet, but he stops immediately and I sense tension wrack his body. You would never know it from his mouth, though. His lips move slowly over mine, parting them, his breath rattling out. He keeps going, opening my mouth for the taking and his tongue touches the tip of mine, just barely, before retreating. A savoring sound crackles in his chest, vibrating me head to toe. “You like this so far?” he practically growls at me.

“Uh-huh.” Understatement.

His big hand splays on my hip, kneading me there, his gaze sweeping me greedily, darkening when it touches on my womanhood. My body blooms like a flower under his attention, my hands lifting of their own accord to close over my breasts. “Play fair, Margaret,” he warns, his lower

body rocking against me, that male organ impossibly stiff where it presses to my thigh.

Spoiler: I don’t play fair.

I can’t even control my impulse to drive him crazy. I simply obey the undeniable urge to test him. My mouth forms a pout and I pinch my nipples, gasping at the corresponding electric zap between my legs. “But it feels so good.”

This time, when Lenin kisses me, he’s almost animalistic. The hand on my hip is shaking and he’s breathing heavily through his nose. Whatever he’s woken up inside me sings like a plucked tuning fork. His hips roll at a steadily increasing pace and my breasts ache at the tips, wetness rushing forth between my legs. With no panties there to catch the moisture, it simply coats my thighs and a low thrum begins there, spreading all through my belly until I’m clawing at Lenin’s shoulders, trying to lever myself off the bed to taste more of him, but he holds me down and lunges on top of me first. I’m pinned. And I love it. Love that I’ve given him no choice.

“You make it very hard to control myself,” he rasps, settling himself between my thighs. “Your little mouth tastes like honey and I can smell your pussy drenching itself for me in welcome.” He pumps his hips into the juncture of my thighs and moans hoarsely. “A few more minutes of this kissing, angel, then we stop. You would not think yourself so safe if you knew the visions in my head.”

Snared in my own wickedness, I settle my knees against his ribcage.

“What are they?”

“Bad little girl,” Lenin growls. His big hand captures my jaw, his thumb tugging down my lower lip so he can sweep his tongue into my open mouth. His weight is all rough angles and thick muscles. On top of me, it is divine. I’m naked and he’s still half-clothed. In every way that counts, I’m at his mercy. So why does it seem like he’s at mine? It’s an incredible feeling. His kisses are ferocious. Wet and male and untamed. His mouth works mine fast and hard, his bulge grinding on my naked flesh. “You’re going to let Daddy put his big cock in this mouth someday.”

Uh oh. Game changer.

As soon as he calls himself my daddy, my feminine flesh squeezes in the most intense way. Enough to make me gasp and wriggle around beneath his hard body. Am I…going to climax? Oh my God. Lust forms a fog

around my brain and everything else fades to black except my physical contact with Lenin. It’s all I feel or see or care about. Daddy is on top of me and he’s hungry. In pain, too, if the harsh groans coming from his chest are any clue.

His tongue invades my mouth again, again, again and I feel those thorough licks between my thighs. They stoke the fire that’s beginning to burn out of control. I need something. No, I need…everything. His mouth is relentless, changing directions and attacking me over and over again from every angle. It’s not seduction, it’s just honesty. Pure, raw honesty. When we break for air, I catch the briefest glance of his heavy-lidded expression, strained muscles, sweat gathering at the center of his thick pectorals.

Muscles flash and glisten, his mouth is wet and he bares his teeth at me every time he thrusts against my core.

He’s starved for me. How could he possibly stop?

I don’t know. But he would.

Maybe that’s part of the reason I don’t want him to anymore.

Trust and affection expands inside me until I’m going to snap.

I trust my daddy. I want to show him. Make him happy.

I want to be his good little girl.

Before he can plant his tongue inside my mouth again, I whisper hurriedly, “I don’t want to stop at kissing anymore. I n-need you inside me.

Please.”

He drops his face into my neck and bellows like a wounded animal.

“Nyet. You are testing me. I will be unbreakable for you, angel. You will not doubt me.”

“No. No, I don’t doubt you. At all. Please. I’ve changed my mind.”

Those heated eyes run over my face and he shakes his head. “I will pass this test even if it kills me. I will suffer to make you mine forever.”

Oh my God. He’s really not going to take me.

I have no one to blame but myself.

It’s so ridiculous to feel tears welling up behind my eyes, but I’m really beginning to ache, and intuition tells me Lenin claiming me is the only way to make it stop. On top of my own growing lust, there’s an urge to satisfy him that is immense. “Please?”

He curses a blue streak in Russian that I assume is an elaborate no.

Before I can stop it, a tear leaks free.

Lenin watches the bead of moisture slide down my temple in horror.

“What is that, Margaret? What are you doing?”

Another tear escapes and Lenin’s panic escalates. He looks like he’s just witnessed a bomb detonate and destroy civilization as we know it.

“You are…crying?”

“I’m okay,” I sob, totally not convincing him. “It’s just that I need you.

All of you. And you won’t believe me and it’s all my fault.”

The rambling words are barely out of my mouth before Lenin reaches down and yanks down his zipper. Looking down between our bodies, I watch as his hand disappears inside his pants and quickly pulls out a huge, throbbing snake of flesh. The wet head is a purplish red color, wet and dripping. A deeply rooted yearning twists inside of me. This is my mate.

And I’m his. We’re about to make each other whole and I’m suddenly frantic for that to happen. I’m whimpering and writhing on the bed, spreading my thighs as wide as I can.

Daddy’s good little girl.

“Shhh. Please don’t cry. You’ll rip me apart with these tears.” Lenin presses his panting open mouth to the pulse at my neck. “I’ll make it all better, angel.”

With that, he slams his cock home inside me.

I hold my breath, expecting terrible pain, but there’s mainly a sense of completion. I’m full of Lenin’s manhood, so full I can’t move without him rubbing a mysterious spot deep, deep inside me. Ohhhhh. There’s a touch of discomfort as my flesh stretches to take his erection, but his expression is one of such profound pleasure, I welcome the tenderness. I’ll gladly exchange pain to be this close to Lenin, giving him everything.

My jaw is caught in his grip. “Who has taken your virginity?”

“Daddy has,” I whine.

“Yes, angel. You will not cry now,” he demands, gruffly. “You will only be happy.”

He drags his wet member out of me and shoves it back in with a grunt.

“Oh!” “My God, little girl.” He works himself in and out of me, groaning his pleasure. “I raised you right and tight. Now I will enjoy the fruits of my labor, da?”

His words set me off. I’m no longer Margaret. I’m his plaything. I moan and struggle to take him deeper, like it’s my mission in life. Daddy helps me spread my thighs with rough hands and praises me with a kiss when he’s able to sink another inch inside me.

“You feel what your innocent teasing does to me?” He drops his mouth to my breasts and licks my hard nipples, one after the other. “You fill my balls with such pressure, little girl. I have no choice but to relieve myself inside you. You put it there. Now you have take it back.”

I make my expression solemn. “Yes, Daddy. I’m sorry.”

He looks down at our joined bodies, pulling out of me slowly and grinding down hard, relishing the movement with a slack jaw. “In our house, we call this apologizing. You say sorry on your back when we are alone—and I always accept.”

Something tightens inside me and I suck in a breath, trying to loosen it.

But moving on Daddy’s shaft only makes the quickening worse and I have no choice but to endure the blissful discomfort that cranks to a new level every time I’m impaled. Daddy gives me all of his weight, grunting into my neck, and if possible, his erection seems to plump larger and larger. My body seems to know it needs to produce more wetness to accommodate his increasing size—and it does, creating a wet, suckling sound in the room. It’s interspersed with the sound of Daddy’s full balls pounding off my backside with increasing swiftness. We’re building to something and I can only spread my thighs wide like a good girl and let the edge approach.

“You like how my raw cock feels, angel?” he grits out.

I bury my nails in his shoulder and cry out. “Yes!” “Then you will show your appreciation,” he says, looking down at me, his accent thicker than usual. “Make cream for Daddy. You are allowed to enjoy apologizing.”

Three more drives of his thick sex into my narrow entrance and I can’t take the building pressure anymore. My breath hitches along with the tiny muscles between my legs. They clench and shake and squeeze around Daddy’s hardness. I hear my voice in the distance sobbing and begging. For what, I don’t know, because I’m already being hit by wave after wave of pleasure, moisture gushing at the juncture of my thighs. And when he growls a curse in Russian and pins my knees wide on the bed, pounding me

one final time before throwing back his head and shouting, my own bliss increases tenfold.

I’ve pleased him. And God knows I’ve been pleased in return.

I can’t even move my limbs as Lenin falls onto the bed beside me and wraps me in a warm embrace. “My sweet Margaret. You are not in pain?”

He lays kisses all over my face. “Your orgasm drips from my cock, but I need you to tell me you are well.”

“I’m well,” I answer, dazed. “I’m super well.”

“No more crying.” His voice is harsh. “You ripped my heart out.”

I turn in his arms and kiss his stubbled chin. “I don’t think I’ll have many reasons to cry in the future.” Feeling shy, I can only manage to sneak a look at him. “Not with you around.”

His chest rumbles. “Yes, angel. I am very much in your life. Now and always.” He kisses my forehead with aching tenderness. “Now sleep so I may have the privilege of protecting you through the night.”

My yawn is huge. “Protecting me from what?”

Is it my imagination or does something cold dance through his eyes?

“Not a thing, angel.” He pulls me into the warmth of his chest and suspicion melts away. “Sleep.”

Lenin I’M IN A snowstorm, much like the white, howling blizzards I experienced growing up in Russia. I’m cold enough that my skin is turning blue, but I don’t have a single worry for myself. I have to find Margaret. Where is she?

I can hear her crying, but I can’t make out a single shape in the blinding white vortex around me. I rip at my hair and bellow her name.

She needs me.

Where is my angel?

Only tonight she was beneath me, taking me inside her virgin body, giving me pleasure like I never thought to experience. The best night of my life. I cannot live without her touch, her voice, her presence now that I’ve experienced her. Who has taken her from me?

“Lenin.”

There. Her voice is closer now. I trudge through the whipping wind, my arms outstretched so they can close around her at the earliest opportunity.

“Margaret!”

“I’m here.” Her hands touch me but I can’t see them. “I’m right here.”

Nightmare? Am I having a nightmare?

I look around and find the ground elevated at odd angles, the sound of the storm unnatural. It’s possible this isn’t real. Please don’t let it be real.

Forcing myself to open my eyes, I release a hoarse breath when I find myself looking into Margaret’s panicked eyes. She slumps.

“There you are.” She strokes the sides of my face and I’m thrust from hell into heaven. “You were having a bad dream—” I cut her off when I yank her into my arms. She wraps her arms around my neck, legs circling my waist, her sweet, naked body molding to my harder one. She’s okay. She’s right here and everything is okay now.

“Please don’t ever cry again,” I rasp into her neck. “I can’t seem to recover from it.”

“I’m sorry.” She kisses a line down my shoulder. “Girls just cry sometimes.”

“You will not do it anymore, Margaret.”

“What if I watch a sad movie?”

“Only happy movies from now on.”

“Those make me cry sometimes, too.”

I release a miserable sound and draw her closer. “What makes you happy? I need to have back-up plans lying around in case your face starts leaking again.”

Her giggle makes me feel somewhat better.

“Um…” She sighs into my neck. “Well…you make me really happy. So there’s that.” I’m not sure I like how surprised she sounds. “Horses. I love horses. And…my mother. My mother used to make me happy before she left. At least on the days when she wasn’t working or with a man. Or sleeping off a bender. Still, I can’t help missing her. She’s my mother.”

“You’ve not had it easy, angel.” I stroke my hand over her sweet, bare bottom. “I’ll make it easy from now on.”

“What about you, Lenin?” She lifts her eyes to mine and they’re searching. Curious. I’m reminded how smart she is. “What makes you happy?”

“Before you, it was only jigsaw puzzles. And Shark Tank.”

“Oooh, I’m a Barbara girl to the core.”

“Da. She is very shrewd!”

We smile at each other in the darkness for a moment before she asks, “Have you had it easy, Lenin?”

“Nyet.” I kiss her mouth and her taste hits me like a drug. “The life I’ve led is not suitable for your ears, Margaret. I will change now that I’ve met you. I was not aware there was such beauty in this world before.”

She tunnels her fingers through my hair, her fingernails lightly scraping my scalp, and my cock stirs against my thigh. There is nothing in this world more incredible than being touched by this angel. “Nothing you could tell me would shock me, Lenin. When my mother left my birth father, I was so young. We lived in motels, on the couches of strangers who didn’t care what I saw and heard…”

My stomach shoots up into my throat. “You will give me a heart attack telling me this.”

Margaret soothes me with a kiss to the chin. “I’m fine. But I’ve watched my mother suffer at the hands of bad people.”

“Men.” She nods. “Yes.” I swallow hard. “And you worry I might be one of these bad men?”

“No. Of course not.” She shows me her frown and I relax somewhat.

“When I first met you, maybe. The way you punched Hank seemed so… practiced. I still don’t know why you were in the club, either.” After a tense moment, she glances away. “I’ve lived around violence and I don’t want to live like her forever. Simply surviving. In constant fear.”

“I would put a knife through my heart before I harmed a hair on your head,” I vow.

Her gaze settles back on mine. “I know,” she whispers. “I know that.”

“I would never harm a man who didn’t deserve it. And never a woman.

Ever.” A relieved breath hisses out of me. I take her smooth backside in my hands and mold it gently. “That being said, I won’t lie to you, Margaret. I will also put a knife through the heart of anyone who tried to steal you from me.” I bare my teeth against her mouth. “I am extremely possessive of you.

It can’t be helped.” Our shallow breaths mingle. “You’re my little girl now.”

Those words visibly affect her, as they do to me. Her cunt drips precious moisture onto my cock and brings it further to life between us. “You’re my daddy,” she whispers.

I reach between us and guide my shaft to her little, wet hole, rubbing it there in circles. “Do you want to play the quiet game?”

She nods eagerly and my cock swells in my grip. I’m not sure how I’ve become so adept at being Margaret’s daddy, considering I’ve never done or fantasized about anything like this. My only explanation is I recognized the needs of my mate and developed the ability to please her in order to satisfy.

Now her needs have become my own. I can’t imagine never having made this connection with my angel. I’m her provider in every single way.

Emotionally, physically. And if what we call ourselves is wrong, I don’t give a fuck about being right.

I’m in love with Margaret. Her happiness and satisfaction are the languages I speak now and I’m already fluent.

I ease my dick into her entrance, exhaling in a puff when she sobs and clenches around me. “Remember, we must be silent. You don’t want to wake anyone up, do you?”

She shakes her head vigorously. “No. I can be quiet.”

“Even when I play a little too hard?”

“Yes.” Her eyes are wide and earnest. “I promise.”

I feed a few more inches into her wet cunt, watching her grow flushed.

“We can both win the game, if we do it right.” I seat her on top of me fully and momentarily lose the ability to think straight, she’s wrapped around my cock so snugly. “It’s your turn first. Show me how fast you can ride Daddy without making a sound.”

Her hands settle onto my shoulders and with a line of concentration between her brows, my little girl fucks me adorably. With her limited strength, she can barely get my fat dick out of her, before accepting it once more with struggling writhes of her hips. Not a problem, though. I could come from simply seeing my sexy angel in a short skirt. So watching her juicy, young pussy wiggle around all over my cock while she bites her lip to stop from squealing will earn her so much come, I’ll have to explain to her mother if she returns that she’s going to be a grandmother soon, too.

“Good girl,” I praise quietly, as if someone sleeps in the next room. I pet her bottom, letting my middle finger rest against her puckered asshole.

“Keep wiggling and Daddy won’t even need a turn.”

She pouts. “Don’t you want to take one?”

You have no idea. I’m so close to shooting come into her like a geyser, I’m going to give myself an injury holding it back. “Da, angel. But when I take my turn, the bed creaks too loudly.”

Her shoulders do a proud shake, bouncing her tits around. “So I win?”

“Not so fast.” I catch my little girl by the knees and upend her on the bed, making her land on her back with a gasp. With that, she’s in the perfect position for me to eat her beautiful pussy—and I do, starting with a thorough, flat-tongued lick between her folds. The squeal she’s been holding back fills the room and I reach up, clapping a hand over her mouth.

“Daddy can’t be caught with his mouth where it doesn’t belong, little girl. If you want me to stay and play, you have to be good.”

A shudder wracks her body. “I’ll be good.” Her belly heaves up and down, her fingers twisting in the bedclothes. “I-I’ll be good.”

“Da.” My mouth curls into a smile against her pussy. “You will.”

It takes only a few flicks of my tongue on her clit and she’s panting into the dark, her thighs opening and closing around my head. Fuck, she is sweet. I lap at her juice like it will make me a god—and it does. I’m a fucking god as long as I have this pussy to lick. I miss her cries of ecstasy, but she is enjoying the quiet game, so I vow to make up for not hearing her beautiful voice by making her scream twice as loud next time.

My thumb draws a circle around her clit, pressing it like a button, then jiggling. As if I’ve sprung her combination, she thrashes above me and stiffens, moisture coating my chin and lips while I bring her straight into the eye of the orgasm, then lever myself up and ram her full of cock. I cover her mouth with my hand and ride her tight pussy while she gasps and whines into my palm, her heels digging into my lower back, fingernails raking over my ass.

Above my hand, her eyes are trusting and the combination of her confidence and the snugness of her wet pussy send me past the breaking point. I fall on her like a man without morals, pounding her innocent body without remorse, because I can’t exist outside of the lust and possessiveness she spawns in me. I become an animal, determined to plant its seed deep inside his mate and I do it with a growl. I’m wracked with the intensity of

my release and it’s almost more than I can withstand, because my heart is involved.

“I love you,” I rasp into her neck a moment later. “My Margaret. I love you so much.”

Her arms close around me, hesitantly at first, but then she’s squeezing tight and I’m home. She is my home now. “I love you, too, Lenin.”

My chest constricts so much I can barely breathe. I just pray she remembers she loves me if she ever finds out what I’ve done in my past… and what I’m capable of.

CHAPTER SIX

Margaret DEAR GOD, I am sore.

Last night would seem like a dream if it wasn’t for the uncomfortable throb between my legs. It feels like I sat on an eggplant and honestly, that isn’t that far from the truth. I don’t need to compare my hot Russian lover to other men to know he’s well endowed. It’s intuitive. Just like I know most men aren’t as generous in bed or willing to go full throttle on a woman’s kinky fantasies as easily as Lenin. If they were, my mom and the women in relationships I’ve met wouldn’t have been so miserable all the time.

All signs point to me being a lucky duck.

A smile is plastered across my face as I stretch my arms up over my head and wiggle my booty around in the sheets. Lenin isn’t in bed, but I hear the shower running and it’s comforting to know he’s close. He’s only one room away and I can’t wait to see him again. I want him to make bad jokes, be too literal and call me “angel.” There are so many things I like about Lenin, in addition to being flat on my butt in love with him.

Who knew it could happen so fast?

Definitely not me. There might be some unanswered questions about how we met last night—and the gun he carries—but those answers will come in time. It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours and I’m not going to be impatient. Not when I can be happy instead. If I’ve learned anything in my eighteen years, it’s that a lot of people aren’t blessed with happiness. Maybe I’m one of the few who actually gets to experience it. I’m going along for the ride.

Lenin walks out of the bathroom with a white towel wrapped around his hips and I’m immediately hypnotized. He looks me over with concern as if I might have injured myself while he’s been away, but I only have eyes for his butt. God, it’s made of marble. It barely moves when he walks, his buns just sitting there like two juicy mountains and I want to bite into them one by one.

“Are you admiring your handiwork, Margaret?”

“My handiwork?”

He hums and whips off his towel, showing me the red welts on his ass.

I gasp, horror snaking through me. “Oh my God. I’m so sorry.”

“What? Why?” He frowns at me in total confusion. “I want to get them tattooed on. A badge of honor courtesy of my angel.”

Heat sinks in my belly at the idea of him having permanent ink on his skin related to me. “Can I get one, too?”

Now he’s the one who’s horrified. “You think I would be able to stand someone putting a needle to your skin?”

“Lots of people do it.”

“You’re not lots of people, Margaret. You’re my only person.”

The air leaves me. “That’s really sweet.”

“Da, you’ve turned me sweet. Are you happy?”

“Yes. I am.”

His smile is the most incredible thing I’ve ever seen. “Then I am also happy.”

I’ve forgotten all about being sore. Mostly because he’s been standing in front of me naked during our talk and his erection grows by the minute.

“Where are we going today? Are you taking me to your place?”

His smile drops. “Nyet. It’s time to find a new place. One we can call ours.” He’s not looking at me. “I need you to stay here while I return home and gather a few things. Then we will leave Baltimore. I have a destination in mind.”

“Where?”

“I want to surprise you.”

Alarm leaps in my bloodstream. “I would rather know where we’re going, Lenin. I haven’t been in control of my life for a really long time.

Can’t we talk about it?”

He looks miserable now. “You will wait here for me, angel. Okay? Then we will talk?” He drags on a pair of boxer briefs, wincing when he stows his arousal. Then he paces for a moment, like a restless panther. “If I tell you everything…maybe you won’t be here when I return. Do you understand my worry?”

“It would have to be pretty bad to make me leave.” Vulnerability turns my face hot. “I told you I loved you and I meant it.”

Lenin drops to his knees beside the bed. “Angel.” He bows his head. “It is because you love me that I can’t take the risk. I won’t play fast and loose with a miracle.”

“We don’t have to talk about everything now, but at least take me with you. Show me where you live.”

His expression is agonized but determined. “It is not safe.”

A hint of unease swims in my stomach. “You just helped me escape from being locked up and now you’re already doing the same thing.” My voice falters as the walls of the room start to close in. “Please. Help me feel okay about this.”

“Just be patient—” “No,” I say tremulously. “You can’t beg me to trust you and give me no trust in return. By keeping me in the dark, that’s what you’re doing.”

He lunges to his feet, driving a fist into the opposite palm with a growl.

“I am not a good man, Margaret. I’m unworthy of kissing your feet. I’m trying to cut off the past so it never touches us, but until we’re out of town, there’s a chance my old life will sink its claws in one more time. My apartment is where they would come looking. If you were hurt in a crossfire, I would pray for the devil to drag me to hell because I wouldn’t be able to live another fucking second.”

I can hardly speak around the emotion in my throat. “Are all Russians so dramatic?”

The tension deflates from him when he sees my half-smile. “You will wait here?”

“Yes.” He crosses the distance between us in one big step and gathers me in his arms, laying kisses on my hairline. “That was good. We had a little fight and—” “I won. Get used to it.” I push my nose against the center of his chest and breathe deeply of his scent. “Thank you for trusting me.”

Lenin’s mouth closes over mine with a hungry sound and within seconds, his hands are everywhere. Cupping my bottom, stroking my thighs, twisting in my hair. My thighs tremble, wetness pooling between them, and suddenly I’m on my back and Lenin is on top of me, shoving down the waistband of his briefs, removing his cock. “Please. One more time before I go. Please.” Without waiting for my answer, he spears me

with his manhood and wastes no time finding a bruising pace, thrusting into my wet entrance again and again without gentleness, my cries of his name echoing off the walls. “You make me crazy, little girl. I can’t stop fucking this pussy.” His head rears back and with his hips pumping furiously, he lets out a guttural shout. “SHE’S MINE!” “You’re mine, too, Lenin.” I pull him down for a kiss and whimper against his mouth, “Come back safely.”

And he does.

But will I be there when he returns?

IT TAKES ME an hour to get restless.

Without Lenin around to distract me, the quiet becomes cloying and memories of the last time I was cooped up at a man’s request—was that really only yesterday?—begin to bombard my mind. I’ve never thought myself claustrophobic, but maybe the disorder has only developed since tasting freedom. I don’t like being stuck in one place without knowing my fate. And to top it all off, I’m worried about Lenin. What kind of danger is he in?

Could he get hurt?

With a small sound, I push to my feet, searching for something— anything—to distract me. I’ve already showered and eaten room service.

I’ve doodled on the hotel stationery and watched fifteen minutes of a reality show. Nothing is holding my attention or making me any less anxious.

I pace from the bedroom to the living room and back again. On my second trip across the space, the telephone catches my eye. I haven’t had access to a phone since my mother left Baltimore. Hank only used his cell phone and didn’t have a landline. Excitement trickles into my belly. Is it possible to call my mother? Unless she changed her number, I know it by heart. She’s had the same one since she left my father.

My heart is clattering in my chest as I pick up the phone and hear the tone buzzing. I follow the instructions on the phone to dial out of the hotel and slowly key in my mother’s number. When it starts to ring, my mouth goes dry.

“Hello?”

My inhale is shaky. “Mom.” “Margaret? Oh thank God.” Her relief is palpable through the phone.

“Where are you, baby? I’m back in town. Tell me where you are!”

“You came back?”

“Yes! Just this morning. I missed you so much and I didn’t want to miss your eighteenth birthday! I just couldn’t stand to be away anymore.” She laughs nervously. “You weren’t where I left you.”

“Did you go to Hank’s?” My face heats. “Did he tell you he made me —” “Just tell me where you are, please,” my mother says, more adamantly.

I frown down at the phone. Something seems off. “Um…” “You’re in danger, Margaret. The man who kidnapped you is very dangerous.”

“He didn’t kidnap me,” I say quickly. “I left with him of my own free will.”

“Is he there? Is he making you say that?”

“No!” “So he’s not with you right now?”

My nerves start to pop. “Mom, what’s going on?”

“I’ll tell you! The man you’re with was hired to kill Hank. He’s a murderer, baby. Tell me where you are so I can come pick you up.”

Those words drop in my stomach like falling pianos.

I close my eyes and see flashes of violence. Directed at myself. My mother.

I’ve fallen in love with a violent man. Just like my mother does, over and over again.

Even as I lament my seemingly terrible mistake, though, I can’t believe Lenin is a bad man. My heart won’t let it be true. My heart won’t stop loving him or believing in him.

“If you met him, you’d change your mind. He’s so good to me—” Her scoff cuts me off. “How many times have I said those same words, Margaret?”

My face flames because she’s right. Still. I can see Lenin’s face, hear his voice, and it keeps me firm in my judgment. “He didn’t kill Hank. He’s… going to change. We’re going to leave this place behind.”

“Without seeing me?” Her tone takes on a higher pitch. “Can’t you come meet me for a little while before you go?”

“Of course I want to see you, I just told Lenin I’d wait for him to get back.”

“I don’t have much time, baby. Can’t you spare a few minutes?”

Disappointment smacks me in the face. She’s already leaving again? I don’t know why I’m surprised. She’s been absent for six months. Still, I can’t help but want to see my mother. She’s still the woman who curled around me in countless motel beds to keep me warm. The same woman who sold her sexual favors to feed me when times were tough. I owe it to my mother to at least spend a few minutes in her presence before we part ways again.

I cast a glance at the clock. Lenin has only been gone an hour. He said he would be back in two. There’s more than enough time to grab coffee with my mother before he gets back. He’ll never know I was gone.

“There’s a Starbucks near the hotel. East Pratt Street, I think?” I wet my lips nervously. Why am I so nervous? My gut won’t stop churning like a paddleboat wheel. “I’ll meet you there in ten minutes.”

There aren’t many clothes to choose from, but I pull on a pair of jeans and a hoodie, before shoving my feet into sneakers and finger combing my hair. I pause on the way out the door, a voice in the back of my head whispering “stay,” but I don’t listen.

I should have listened. As soon as the Starbucks is within sight, a van pulls up to my left along the curb and the back window rolls down. There’s my mother, gaunter than usual, but smiling. Beckoning. My heart leaps despite the oddness of the situation and I gravitate toward the familiarity of her. “Mom.” It’s only when I get closer do I see the gun pressed to the back of her head.

Hank is holding it.

“I had no choice,” she says, a tear rolling down her cheek.

“Get in,” Hank grates. “Or I pull the trigger.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

Lenin SOMETHING IS AMISS. I do not like it.

Sweat rolls down my spine as the elevator climbs toward the correct floor. In seconds, I will have Margaret in my arms and all will be well. I just need to see my angel.

There should have been someone staking out my apartment, but I surveyed the area from a nearby rooftop and saw no one. It is unheard of for a hitman to disregard a task so delicate. Once I shirked my responsibility, my employer should have put a price on my head. I know too much and have no skin in the game. I’m a liability to the man who hired me. Yet there was no one waiting in the shadows of my closet. No one lurking in the parking garage.

I was fully prepared to make short work of whoever they sent to kill me.

Yet I wasn’t even challenged.

Something is definitely amiss.

As soon as the elevator doors open, I lunge through the opening, key already in hand. She’s on the other side of the door. I’m going to kiss her and take her on a date. Maybe I’ll find a Russian restaurant in town and show her some of my culture.

No, I will let her pick.

After asking her to stay trapped inside all day, she will make all the choices tonight. If she wants to go to the fucking moon, I will find a way to bring her there.

As soon as I open the door, I know she’s gone.

My roar makes the window panes rattle across the room.

“Margaret!”

I’m dizzy and lacking in oxygen as I stumble into the room, turning in a circle. Looking for clues. There are no signs of a struggle and it’s the only

reason I maintain my sanity. Her bag of clothing has been moved, some of the garments are missing. She left of her own accord?

Did she decide to leave me after what little I told her of my life?

“Angel,” I shout hoarsely, noting her toothbrush is still in the bathroom.

Did she plan on coming back? What if she went out on an errand and I’m overreacting?

No. No, something is wrong.

My gut is on fire and I want my Margaret.

I sit down on the edge of the bed where I can still smell our lovemaking and it turns me into a fearsome animal. If someone has my mate, they are on borrowed time. Before this day is over, I will grind their fucking bones to dust. To Margaret, I am a lover. To them, I am Satan.

Though it is almost impossible, I force myself to fight the fear and nausea and rage. To focus on what I know. Her stepfather is the only one who harbors ill will toward Margaret.

I will start there.

On autopilot, I check my weapon and return it to my shoulder holster.

I’m coming, angel.

Margaret IT’S A SAD day in a woman’s life when she realizes her mother is flawed.

I mean, I always knew she was imperfect. Everyone has their faults. But I thought she had honor. More than that, I thought she would do anything to protect me. Even after she left me with Hank, I carried that belief. For the last six months, I had this fabulous fantasy that she’d had no choice but to leave Baltimore and she was building the perfect home for us in Mexico She would bring me there one day and we’d lie on the beach laughing.

Instead, I’m in the cold basement of Hank’s All Nude Review, my knees on the filthy concrete floor. My mother kneels beside me crying, but I’m too numb to comfort her. Or myself. She hasn’t even apologized to me. All I can do is stare into space and pretend the gun pointed at my head isn’t going to fire any second.

Lenin’s voice whispers in my ear. My Margaret. I love you so much.

Salty moisture stings the backs of my eyes.

Why didn’t I just stay in the stupid hotel?

Two men are with us in the basement. Hank and the unfamiliar man who drove us here in the van. My stepfather is pacing back and forth in the near darkness, sucking down a Camel cigarette. He keeps checking his cell phone as if he’s waiting for something. Anger at myself roars up inside me and I can’t keep quiet any longer. I don’t want to wait to know my fate.

“What are you going to do? Kill us?” I swipe at my eyes. “Why?” Hank’s upper lip curls. “I don’t owe you an explanation, you mouthy bitch.” I simply wait, knowing he won’t be able to help himself. “I haven’t decided if I’m going to let your mother live yet. The regulars upstairs still ask for her. I’d love to put her back to work after she walked out on me. It would serve her cheating ass right.”

Beside me, my mother starts to cry softly.

“What about me?”

Hank laughs and lights another cigarette, taking his time on the first drag. “After you left last night with the Russian, I got to thinking.

Something didn’t sit right about him. I’ve been looking over my shoulder ever since I cut my business partner out of this place and I knew. I knew that big Russian fucker came here to do me in.” He looks me over and I’m grateful to be wearing a hoodie. “Maybe I should thank you for distracting him. How long did it take you to spread your legs for him, Margaret? A couple of hours? Like mother like daughter.”

I refuse to let him make Lenin and my relationship something dirty. I know better. I know it was created in love. If my life ends here, I’ll keep that truth alive until I can’t anymore.

“I confronted my ex business partner last night and after some convincing…” Hank smirks, and I have a feeling his convincing involved torture. “…he confessed to hiring the hit through a third party. That third party is a nasty son of a bitch and he doesn’t like when he hires someone and they don’t deliver on time. He’s looking for the Russian now and he’s willing to forget about the hit if we bring him the Russian. Dead.”

My blood freezes. “How are you going to do that?”

“Oh come on, little Margaret.” His laughter makes my insides shrink up.

“I know the look of a man who has been hypnotized by pussy. He’ll show

sooner or later.”

Hank nods at the other man in the room and he brandishes a gun.

They both laugh.

A sob climbs my throat and bursts free. They’re going to kill Lenin.

Because of me.

Tears blur my vision as Hank continues to talk. “You sure know how to pick them, Margaret. Your first man and he’s a world-class killer for hire.”

I’d already pieced together what Lenin does for a living and this confirms it. He was at the club last night to kill my stepfather, and on top of that he already told me he’s not a good man. I’m in love with a hit man.

But that’s not all he is.

He’s caring and thoughtful and passionate.

He had a nightmare about me crying, for crissakes.

He saved me from this place and treated me with respect.

Restrained himself until I was ready to go further.

He fed me, promised me a future—and I believe him.

Tears track down my cheeks. Now he’s going to get ambushed— There’s a precise crack and the man holding the gun drops into a heap on the floor. A shadow appears within the shadows at the edge of the room.

There, but not there. Hank scrambles to draw his own gun, but he yelps in pain and a red stain blooms on his thigh. His gun clatters on the ground and he stumbles.

Lenin steps out of the shadows. His gaze is murderous, directed at Hank.

My heart cheers like an audience of thousands.

“Angel, please dry your tears before I look at you.” His voice resonates, deep and livid in the cold room. “I’m trying very hard not to scare you, but if you cry right now…” He stops for a shuddering breath. “When we leave, I will have to burn down this building with everyone inside.”

I use my sleeves to mop my cheeks. “Let’s not do that. It’s mean.”

“Stop crying and I will consider it.” He makes a miserable sound. “You are not harmed?”

“No. I’m fine.”

He squeezes his eyes closed, briefly. “I will double check later.”

I have the sudden urge to laugh, I’m so relieved and happy. “Okay.”

Hank dives for his gun, but Lenin fires and hits him in the arm with a bullet before he can grasp it. My stepfather wails and rolls into his back, cradling his bloody forearm to his chest. “Jesus Christ. Help me.”

“You thought I would be trapped by two filthy vermin?” Lenin stops beside Hank and points the gun at the center of his forehead. “You use my angel as bait?”

“I’m sorry.” Hank holds up his hands in surrender. “I’m sorry.”

Lenin’s expression is pure disgust, his finger turning white on the trigger. “You would already be dead if she wasn’t watching, you piece of garbage.”

“I can turn around,” I suggest.

“Margaret,” my mother gasps, nudging me with an elbow.

Swallowing, I turn to her. “You don’t get to question me anymore.”

“Did she help lure you here?” Lenin asks, his expression darkening further. “I am sorry, angel. Nobody deserves you.”

I tear my eyes off my mother and look at him. “That’s not true.”

“Yes, it is.” His throat works. “They told you what I am?”

“Yes.” I come to my feet and go toward him. “But your past is only one part of who you are, Lenin. You showed me the rest and it’s beautiful. My heart told me to trust you and I’m so glad I listened.” I splay my fingers on his arm, soothing the tense muscles with a massage. “Let’s go find out who you’ll be in the future instead. Who we’ll be together.”

“I will be everything you need me to be, angel,” he vows.

“That should be easy.” I kiss his bicep, his shoulder, his mouth. “You already are. And you don’t need to kill anymore. You just need to love me.

Starting now.”

Lenin collects the weapons in the room and with one final menacing look at the occupants, he guides me to the exit with an arm around my shoulder. I stop and mouth the word “goodbye” to my mother, but she’s staring blankly at the wall. I will still miss her, unbelievably, but it’s time to start my own life, with the man I love. I want to so badly.

“Come, angel.” Lenin picks me up and I wrap my legs around his waist, snuggling my face into the crook of his neck. “I’ll take you to see the horses.”

“I love you,” I whisper.

“Ah, Margaret. I love you, too.”

EPILOGUE

Lenin Fourteen Months Later

THIS IS WHAT it’s like to be content.

I never knew this feeling until now.

My angel smiles at me through the window of our house and I send her a wink before hauling back my axe and splitting a log in half. Who knew I would grow accustomed to rural life so quickly? Our days begin bright and early, but that suits me perfectly because I love being awake. Being awake means I have eyes on Margaret. It means I’m speaking with her, touching her. Sleep is nothing more than a means to rest so I can love her harder the following day.

After we left Baltimore, I was unable to relax until there was a ring on her finger to proclaim her as mine. Once Margaret took my last name in a civil ceremony, I brought her to a horse ranch in Montana, far from the memories of our old lives. She loved the place so much, I bought it for her in cash, along with a paddock full of horses, so she could have her pick.

In between caring for our eight-month-old twin boys, she rides her favorite mare through the green pastures barefoot, her hair in a dark, whipping wave around her beautiful, smiling face. The sight steals my breath every time, though I’m tense until she dismounts safely and is once again in my arms.

Speaking of which, I need her in my arms now. Badly.

Laboring makes me hungry for Margaret. Everything does.

When we arrived at the ranch, I could barely stop fucking her long enough to perform the tasks that make the place function. After she became pregnant with the twins, however, I was imbued with the drive to provide for my wife, my children, so now I must harness my never-ending need to be between her thighs, absorbing her purity and love. I have enough money to give my family a comfortable life, but I long to give them even more. So

I work from dawn to dusk, always keeping an eye on my gorgeous wife through the windows.

The front door of our house opens and I let the axe drop, acutely aware of the sweat pouring down my face and bare torso. Aware of it, because my skin is extra sensitive whenever Margaret is near, looking at me. This time is no exception. She steps out onto the porch in her pretty yellow dress and hugs one of the wooden pillars, peeking at me from behind it almost shyly.

Ah, I see. Our sons must be napping.

I know what she wants. To play. My cock stiffens at the knowledge.

“Come, angel,” I call, crooking my finger at her. “There is something I want to show you in the barn.”

She looks almost nervous as she ascends the steps, her fingers playing with the hem of her dress, very nearly showing me her pussy. “What is it, Daddy?”

Without answering, I take her hand gently and guide her toward the red structure, located at the edge of the property. She looks up at me trustingly, even though Daddy is watching the ways her tits shake in the low neckline of her dress. And planning. “I think it is time for some new dresses, angel.”

She frowns down at her attire. “You don’t like my dress?”

We reach the barn and I guide her inside, closing the large door behind us, creating total silence. The only light enters through cracks in the door and a row of windows near the rafters. But it is mostly dim. Quiet. “Of course I like your dress, angel.” I smooth back her hair. “But I’m the only one who needs to know how fast you’re maturing.” I drop my fingertips to her neckline and trace the supple slopes of her tits. “And how nicely.”

“Th-thank you.” Flustered, she ducks her head. “What did you want to show me?”

I take her hand once more, guiding her to one of the empty horse stalls.

“Is everyone asleep in the house?”

“Yes.” Anticipation almost makes me dizzy. Needing to feel her curves, I pull her against me for a hug. She returns it with a happy sigh and we sway there for a moment. “You’ve gotten so good at caring for the horses, angel. I’m thinking of buying you a new one, all to yourself. A pretty gray mare with a white streak on her nose.”

“Really?” She hits me with wide, excited eyes. “I can’t wait to meet her! Do I get to name her?”

I smooth back the hair from her face. “Of course you do.” I pause, showing her my hesitation. “It will be a big responsibility, though. I’m not sure you’re ready for it.”

“I am, Daddy.” She dances around on her tiptoes, dragging the fronts of our bodies together. If she feels my hard dick, she gives no indication. “I promise.”

“I don’t know.” I consider her with an exhale. “There are things about horses you haven’t learned yet. Things you need to know to be a proper horse trainer. Such as how they mate and make babies.”

Even in the dimness, I can see her cheeks filling with color, her shoulders drooping. “Oh. No, I don’t know how they do…those things.”

“I suppose I could teach you.”

Her excitement is back, bouncing up and down, her palms splaying on my bare chest. “Really? And then I could have the horse?”

“We’ll see how well you pay attention.” I fist her hair and turn her around so she’s facing the barn wall. “Go down on your hands and knees, angel. The only way to learn is to have me demonstrate.”

“Oh. Okay, Daddy.”

She drops to her knees in the hay and leans forward, supported on her hands. The position makes her dress ride up in back, giving me a nice look at her sweet, naked bottom. While I soundlessly unzip my pants, I lean back and take in the sight of her snug, little pussy, too, just waiting for Daddy like an early birthday present. “Open your knees a little wider, angel,” I rasp, falling to a kneel and hunching over her arched back, holding my cock in one hand so she doesn’t feel it yet. “The stallion gets behind the mare like this…”

“Behind her? That’s so funny.”

Chuckling, I kiss her neck with an open mouth, two, three times and hear her surprised intake of breath. “Um…what happens next, Daddy?”

My voice has dropped and when I speak next, I feel her shiver. “You’ve seen that big part between the stallion’s legs, haven’t you?”

“Y-yes,” she admits. “But I try not to look.”

“Because you don’t know what it is? That’s okay. I’m going to teach you.” I settle my throbbing cock down between her ass cheeks. “It does the

same job as this part of Daddy. It goes into a little hole between your legs, the same way a stallion fits inside a mare.”

Her sides start to heave and I kiss her neck again, on the other side this time.

“I’m going to show you now, angel,” I growl into her ear. “It’s the only way for you to understand.” I fist my dick and bring it between her thighs, finding the moist gateway to my personal heaven. “You want that pretty mare, don’t you?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“You’re my good little girl, aren’t you?”

“Yes, I am!”

“Good.” I wrap my free arm around her hips to keep her stationary, then I jam several inches of my cock into her quaking cunt, her whimpers bouncing around the small, empty stall. Fuck, she is perfection. My balls rear up, already preparing to empty. “Relax your body, angel. This is just how you show me you’re ready for more responsibilities.”

She struggles to accommodate my thickness. “I’m trying.”

I punch my hips forward and impale her completely, my hoarse groans filling the barn. “You try very well, little girl.” My thrusts begin and immediately pick up the pace and I can’t help but fuck her hard, fast, bucking into her with savage pumps of my hips. “We’re almost done with the demonstration,” I rasp into her neck. “Almost, angel. Daddy is almost there.”

“Is the mare supposed to feel funny?” Her tight ass begins to writhe in my lap and I feel her cunt start to contract around me. “Oh Daddy, what is happening to me?”

“Don’t be scared. I’ve got you.” I find her clit and rub it with my middle finger. “Your body just likes mine and it’s letting you know. It wants to play like this every day.”

Her breath hitches and she screams, turning her head so I can catch the sound, tongue fucking her mouth while she comes, unleashing a river of wetness on my thrusting cock. The squelching sound of our bodies joining, along with the taste of her mouth, pushes me over the finish line and I spend myself inside my angel’s quickening pussy. The end never fails to shatter my mind while wringing pleasure from my lower body so violently, I can barely think or breathe.

“Good girl, good girl, good girl,” I chant between kisses, listening to my semen fall in glops onto the hay. As soon as I’m spent, our game cracks down the middle and there is nothing but love radiating from my insides. I haul my wife back into my lap, holding her like the priceless work of art she is, rocking her side to side. “My Margaret. You are my everything. My life, my peace, my obsession.” I push the words through my teeth. “Say you’re mine, eternally.”

She reaches up and touches my face, love glowing in her eyes.

“Eternally yours, Lenin.”

THE END