Chelle
“So? How was the kiss?” Shanna demands from across the bar.
I’m at the Red Room for happy hour, telling Shanna about my visit to the Kremlin. I look forward to my Wednesdays here because it’s not too crowded during happy hour, and Shanna has time to lean her elbows on the bar and chat.
Derek, her sexy oblivious boss, doesn’t come in until later.
“Hot. Super hot. It was more than a kiss.”
“Wait… you screwed him?” Shanna lowers her voice even though we probably can’t be heard by anyone over the sound of the music.
“No!” I protest way too loudly. “I just mean, it was a full-on kiss with all body parts involved.”
Shanna’s eyes narrow skeptically. “So sex.”
“No!” I laugh, getting exasperated. Seriously, she’s so into gratuitous sex that she can’t comprehend why I don’t do that. “Like his hands were everywhere, and it went on forever.”
“And then what?”
I shrug. “Then he gave me the ring back, and I left.” Well, technically he threw me out, but I prefer to rewrite the narrative a bit.
A guy comes to sit down beside me, which is annoying because there are a slew of empty barstools all up and down the bar, and I’m having a private convo with my bestie.
“I think you need to get laid.”
Oh for fuck’s sake. Did Shanna have to say that so loudly? The guy next to me grins and tries to catch my eye.
“I think you need to shut up.” Not my best come-back. I’m flustered by our audience.
Shanna turns and makes eye contact with him. “What can I get you?”
“Grey Goose, neat.”
I steal a glance. He’s good-looking. About my age. Nice leather jacket, smells like expensive cologne. Obviously looking for a hook-up.
“And whatever she’s having.” He jerks his thumb my way.
“Oh, that’s okay,” I say quickly. I’ve almost finished my first and more than one drink puts me under the table.
“She’s drinking a dirty martini because she’s a dirty girl,” Shanna says, and I seriously want to kill her.
“I’m good,” I say, but Shanna makes me one, anyway.
Maybe she just wants to run up his bill. Or else she’s trying to help me out in the getting laid department. I steal another glance. This guy is cute, for sure. But I don’t do rando guys, and I especially don’t do players. I learned my lesson on that one, don’t need to do it again. I’m just not a hook-up sex kind of person.
Oh well. I guess I can tell him that after I enjoy the drink he bought me.
I sip on the martini and dare a glance at him.
He scoots his bar stool closer to me.
Gah. He is good-looking. Yet he does absolutely nothing for me. I take another sip of my martini.
“So you and the bartender are friends?”
I shouldn’t fault him for a lame opener. What else could he go with? So you need to get laid? Or Come here often?
“Yes. We were college roommates. She was the one having noisy sex in the bunk above mine, if you hadn’t guessed.” I roll my eyes.
There. Show him a bit of my prudish outlook. Maybe that will scare him away.
It doesn’t seem to. I drink some more of my cocktail and hope Shanna will return from the other end of the bar soon.
Maybe I should just head home?
Except now I’m a little too tipsy to be out taking public transportation alone. I should sit and let some of the alcohol wear off. Or eat some food. Too bad they don’t have any here.
I pull the toothpick loaded with olives out of my drink and put all three of them in my mouth. The guy watches my lips like it’s the sexiest thing he’s ever seen.
Hope I don’t squirt olive juice on him.
“More olives,” I call out to Shanna, who is serving someone else.
“I’m Derek.” The guy holds his hand out to me.
“Chelle.” I shake his hand briefly, but turn my shoulders back to face the bar, inviting Shanna to return.
“Shell as in Shelly? Or short for Michelle?”
“Just Chelle.”
“Well, just Chelle, what do you do for a living?”
I want to think of something really creative, just to fuck with him, but my brain processing has slowed too much. “I am a publicist,” I say. “Well, publicist’s assistant, really. But I hope to be a full-fledged publicist soon.”
The guy scoots his barstool closer.
Dammit. I shouldn’t have answered!
“So what does a publicist do?”
“We strategize with clients on their brand, manage social media platforms, that kind of thing.” I stay facing the bar, which unfortunately means I’m facing my drink which unfortunately means I drink it all. Oops.
The room spins. I pull off my work jacket and hang it on the back of my chair.
I’m sure I should ask what he does for a living, but I’m really not interested in carrying this further. I know how it’s supposed to end, and since I’m not looking for that end, it’s a waste of both our time. I came to hang out with Shanna not get laid.
Where in the hell is Shanna?
Oh good, here she comes. Wait, why is she bringing another round?
“Oh, no, no, no.” I push the martini to the far side of the bar. “I’ve had enough. I should probably get home.”
My wanna-be hookup hops off his barstool. “I can get you home safely.”
I shake my head and hold up my hand. “No, no, no, no. I’m going to sit a while and then go home.” I’m slurring now.
“Well, if you’re going to stay, at least have a few sips of the drink I bought you.” Wanna-be slides the drink back in front of me.
Someone appears on my other side and a hand slides the drink away again. The fingers are tattooed, like-“Hey!” I’m irrationally excited. “I know someone with tattoos like-” I look up at the man beside me and the words die in my mouth. “Oh, it’s you.”
Nikolai smiles down at me with amusement, like my drunk self isn’t completely obnoxious. “It’s me. I’m going to take you home now.”
I turn to look at Wanna-be, slapping the back of my hand against Nikolai’s chest. “He’s going to take me home.”
Wanna-be is pissed. “Who’s he?”
“He’s my brother’s-” my brain catches up and I amend, “he’s my boyfriend. He came to pick me up because I had too much to drink.”
Even in my drunken state, zings of excitement run through me knowing what I’ve just invited. Pretending to be the girlfriend of a guy in the Russian mafiya probably opens a door I should’ve left shut. Am I really going to let Nikolai take me home?
Wanna-be scowls at me. “You could’ve told me that before I bought you two drinks.”
My brain spins off on possible retorts, like, I said I didn’t want a drink or I’ll pay for the fucking drink, then, asshole, but Nikolai tosses two twenties on the bar. “They’re paid for. Now turn around and walk away before I break your nose.”Wanna-be’s eyes narrow, and I realize with a lurch of misgiving that Nikolai would follow-through without the blink of an eye.
“He’s not kidding,” I say quickly as I hop off my bar stool in Nikolai’s direction. “Sorry for the confusion.”
“Don’t apologize to him,” Nikolai growls.
Wanna-be scowls and shakes his head then grabs the money from the bar and walks away, pocketing it all.
“He took the whole thing?” I wave my hand in the direction of the place where the bills were in disbelief. “If he doesn’t leave my friend the very best tip, I will kick his ass myself,” I turn and declare to Nikolai, whose lips kick up.
He curls his tattooed fingers around my nape. “You ready to go?”
“Wait, wait, wait. Just hold on.” I register how exaggerated my speech is but can’t seem to modulate it. “What are you doing here?” I squint up at my sexy rescuer.
He shrugs. “I came in for a drink. Saw this guy bothering you and figured I should intervene.”
I wrinkle my nose and cock my head to the side. I’m too tipsy to decipher what’s off about his explanation but fortunately Shanna finally reappears to help me out.
Nikolai
Gospodi, I wanted to pound that mudak who was hitting on Chelle into the ground.
Dima gave me his full report on Zane’s older sister a couple days ago, and one of the things he’d flagged was her regular charges at this cocktail lounge every Wednesday evening. I came tonight just to see who she had a standing date with and, then, was surprised to see her alone.
Now, as the bartender gives me a very sharp once-over, I understand. Chelle said the bartender was her friend. This is who she comes to hang out with on Wednesdays. At least, I hope that’s the explanation.
It sure as hell wasn’t that bastard buying her too many drinks when she clearly can’t handle them.
“Hey, what are you doing with my friend?” the bartender demands.
I give her a cool look. “I’m taking her home. She’s obviously had too much to drink, which you could’ve prevented.”
The corners of her lips tip up like I busted her. “I was trying to get my friend laid. He seemed nice enough.”
“Shanna! Shut. Up,” Chelle hurls across the bar.
“You have a fucked up idea about nice. In my book, getting a woman too drunk to refuse is akin to forcing her.”
The bartender continues to smirk, like her friend’s safety is all in good fun. “You must be Nikolai?”
Something moves in my chest.
Chelle was talking about me? With her friend?
I shouldn’t be so satisfied about that fact, but I am.
“Yep,” Chelle answers for me, putting her hand on my chest and leaving it there. “This is the infamous Nikolai.” She pats me, and I have to resist the urge to catch her fingers and kiss them. “Beater-Upper of Brothers.”
“Uh huh. So I’m thinking you don’t really have that much room to get judgey with me.” Chelle’s friend folds her arms and raises her brows. “Beater-Upper of Brothers.”
“A discussion for another time, perhaps.” I turn Chelle to face the door. “Does she owe you anything?”
“Nope. Have fun!” There’s a gleeful tone in her voice that implies I’m about to do the same thing that mudak hoped to do with Chelle, and it irritates me. But then Chelle hooks her arm through mine, using me to help balance her as she weaves through the tables to the door, and I forget it all.
Maybe I’m not pissed that asshole got her drunk because it gave me this chance to see her with her guard down. Find out what’s under the surface of Chelle’s fiery personality.
I lead her to where I parallel parked my new Tesla S and open the passenger door. “Oh my God, you have a Tesla?” she gushes as she climbs in. “I love Teslas! I totally want one. Where do you charge it?”
“In the garage of my building,” I say before I shut the door.
She’s a fun drunk, for sure. As much as I love the woman with attitude, I love this friendly version even more. Especially because I know she usually keeps it buttoned up.
“I’m sorry my friend said she was trying to get me laid,” she slurs when I climb behind the wheel and merge into traffic. “She’s ridiculous. I mean, completely ridiculous. She knows I don’t do casual sex, but she works in a bar, so that’s pretty much all she sees or does. She seems to think it would solve everything for me.”
“What needs solving?” I ask.
“Well-” She pauses and looks over at me, her lips parted. Then she shakes her head quickly. “Um, nothing. Nothing at all. That’s the thing. I don’t need fixing.” She holds her palm out like a stop sign. “And I definitely don’t do players.”
“Who are you referring to?”
“To whom,” she corrects then winces. “Sorry. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t correct your English. I’m such a bitch.”
“Why not? I would correct your Russian. It’s fine. To whom are you referring? Me?”
“Oh God,” she moans and covers the half of her face closest to me with one hand.
“You think I’m a player, Chelle?”
“Well, obviously.”
I can’t decide why that irritates me. “Why do you think so?”
She removes her hand and gives me an up and down look. “The way you dress, your innuendos, the, um, thing you said to me.”
I can’t resist a half-smile.
“I’m not a player,” I tell her, even though it’s a lie. My entire relationship history has been a series of one-night stands.
She doesn’t buy it. Her look would be withering if she were sober, but drunk, it’s just adorable. “You are totally a player. How many serious girlfriends have you had?” she demands. I tighten my lips and keep my gaze on the road.
“Aha! None, am I right?”
“My profession hasn’t lent itself to relationships. They were forbidden.”
Even drunk, Chelle is smart enough to pick up on the tense I used. “Were?”
I shrug. “There were rules against it. Rules with deadly consequences. But my boss has eased them.”
“Your boss with the fancy building?”
“That’s right.” I pass her apartment and find a parking spot a half a block away.
She looks around animatedly as I let the Tesla do the parallel parking. “Wait, how did you know where I lived?”
“I’ve been here before, Freckles. To get the title to Zane’s car.”
“Oh yeah.” She shoots me a look I can’t decipher then throws open her door.
I open mine and get out, too. I don’t plan to go in, but I’d be a dick not to make sure she gets into her apartment safely. She’s still wasted.
I escort her upstairs and take her keys from her to open the door. “Spokoynoy nochi,” I say.”What’s that mean?”
“Good night.”
She stops and turns then surprises me by reaching out and fisting my shirt. She gives a tug.
At first I don’t move, but as much as I don’t want to take advantage of her right now, I also don’t want to leave.
She’s far too enthralling.
“You should come inside.” Her words tumble out, one right on the top of the other.
“I’m inside,” I concede, letting her pull me in and shut the door.
She takes her jacket off and throws it on a hook. Then strips me of mine.
“I’m not having sex with you, zayka.”
She untucks my shirt from my pants and slides her hands beneath it, her palms making contact with my skin. A breath shudders in as she strokes over my abs. “You’re not?” She’s not pouting. It’s more confusion in her expression.
“No, Freckles. You’ve had too much to drink. I’m not going to take advantage.”
“Please? I do need sex. Shanna was right about that. And even though I don’t usually do players, I think this one time might help me get it out of my system. Just this once, you know?”My resolve firms. I’m definitely not going to be her “just this once” guy.
Still, my dick is hard because her hands keep stroking up inside my shirt. I chuckle and catch her hand when she pinches my nipple. “You’re making it very hard to be a gentleman.”
“Screw gentleman. I need some action. Please? What about that spanking you wanted to give me?”
I laugh because I knew that threat had tweaked her. “You need a spanking, Chelle?” I tug her hands out of my shirt and pin them behind her back. Her face lights up as I walk her backward toward her couch.
“Hmm? Answer me, little bunny. You want me to smack that cute ass of yours?”
“Um, kind of,” she admits. Her face is flushed, but her eyes dance with pleasure.
I sit on the sofa and tug her over my lap with her torso on the sofa, her legs extended toward the floor. I give her ass one smack to see how she reacts.
She squeals and kicks her legs then wiggles her ass for more. She’s in a pencil skirt like she’d gone to the lounge straight from work, and I tug it up. My cock surges when I see what’s underneath. Not full pantyhose, but the thigh-high kind with the lace around the top that looks like garters. The hose are black, and so are her panties. Her black kitten heels complete the art-porn look.”Aw, zayka, you look so hot in these.” I palm her ass and squeeze and she rolls her hips over my lap. I give her ass another hard slap, and she jerks, then rolls her hips again. “You have the cutest ass I have ever had the pleasure of spanking.”
I lightly stroke my fingers between her legs over her panties, and she humps my lap.
“Okay, ready for your spanking?”
She looks over her shoulder quizzically, and I give her a smirk as I gather her wrists at her lower back with one hand and start spanking her in earnest with the other.
“Eek!” She kicks her pretty shoes, and I clamp my leg down over hers to hold them still.
“You asked for it,” I remind her as I continue to spank with a steady beat, warming her ass all over.
She makes the most adorable noises-squeaks and ohs and ahs that make me want to put her on her hands and knees and plow into her until we both see stars.
But I won’t.
Not tonight, anyway.
Which means I’m going to take out my lust on her sexy, squirming ass. I continue to paddle her until her cries sound breathless, and she starts gasping my name.
I stop and release her legs, so I can pull down her satin panties.
She rolls her hips again. “No more,” she whimpers.
I stroke between her legs. “No more, bunny rabbit? How about this? You want more of this?”
“Yes, oh please,” she cries, her hips bucking from my touch.
I find her clit and swipe over it before I slide down to her entrance to gather her juices.
“Oh my gawd.” She sounds shocked in a good way, which I love.
I rub more firmly, circling up to her clit, then screwing my index finger into her tight entrance. She squeezes around my finger which makes my dick press furiously against my zipper.
I release her wrists in favor of using the thumb of my other hand to explore the cleft between her reddened cheeks. When I find the tight button of her anus, she squeezes her ass together. I give her a light spank. “You want me to take care of this ache, Chelle?” I stroke over her clit with a slow, steady motion.
“Yes,” she wails.
“Then be a good girl and let me finger-fuck your ass, too. It will make it so much better, I promise.”
She goes still, like she’s listening intently, or maybe she was thinking because after a moment she parts her legs further and relaxes the muscles of her ass.
I drop a little spit between her cheeks to use as lubricant and press my thumb against her asshole until she relaxes it and yields. As soon as I’m in, I reward her with swift, plunging strokes into her pussy, using two fingers face down, so I can rub over her G-spot.
She chokes on a cry, lifting one foot in a pretty pose. “Oh! Nikolai!” she cries out.
I wiggle my thumb inside her ass as I continue to finger-fuck her tight channel.
“Oh my God, this is so crazy! I can’t… I need… oh!”
She comes, her anus and pussy squeezing around my digits in beautiful pulsing waves.
I wait until they finish, then give a few more slow pumps to milk out the aftershocks.
“Ohhhh,” she moans.
I ease my fingers out and lean down to kiss her pink buttcheek. “Did you like your spanking?”
“Oh my God,” she pants.
“Is that a yes?” I pull up her panties and unzip her skirt so it falls down when I help her to stand.
Her golden eyes are unfocused, and her chestnut waves are a messy halo around her flushed face. She nods but seems incapable of speech.
I’m absurdly pleased with myself for having done this to her.
“Let’s get you to bed.” It’s only nine, but she could probably crash now and sleep it off. I stand from the couch and give her cute ass another smack. “Go brush your teeth, and I’ll get you a glass of water. You definitely should rehydrate.”
“Mmm.”
I wash my hands in the kitchen, then get a glass of water and find ibuprofen in one of the cabinets. When I return, she’s already belly flopped on her bed. I help her under the covers and set the water and ibuprofen beside her.
“Goodnight, little bunny.” I drop a kiss on her forehead before I turn out the light and shut her bedroom door.
In the kitchen, I use a notepad and pen to scribble a message before I leave.
As I walk out, the image of her rumpled and satisfied stays in front of my eyes. I should banish it, but I don’t. It’s an image I won’t soon forget.
Especially because I doubt I’ll be seeing it again. I may not have fucked Chelle, but I still went too far. I shouldn’t have taken any liberties with her. Not when I know with total certainty that she will regret everything we did in the morning.
I won’t get a redo of tonight. Not unless I get her drunk again, which I would never do.
I need to forget this woman because even though we share an attraction, she’s not ever going to get over her prejudice toward me.
I’m the guy who beat up her brother.
I’m in the bratva.
And a player, according to her.
A woman like Chelle would never lower her standards to date a thug like me.