Dinara
I’ve ached for him the whole week, not just his touch but his company. It’s a dangerous dependency for someone in my line of work. You can’t have these kinds of distractions. This is how the infighting began- because heads of families followed their hearts and nether regions instead of their heads. It doesn’t matter how sexy or passionate Robbie is. His men will riot if they find out that not only is he sleeping with someone outside their nationality, but also much lower in rank…as families go.
You can’t change bias overnight, and I doubt it will ever change. Each family has their reasons to hate the others, and the Irish hate and are hated the most.
I can’t avoid him, though. We have to work together because if we don’t, we have to explain why not. We would have to explain how we shacked up. We would have to admit we have feelings for each other. We would be disciplined. I am not a sister or brother or cousin. I am just a lowly soldier in a family of criminals. The only power I wield is that Katya is my friend, which means little in these situations.
So I cannot avoid him.
So I text him that I’ll be there. At eight.
My stomach does flip flops, and to distract myself, I print out photos from the surveillance of the Italian family that we now know are working against the coalition. It will be something to talk about if things are awkward.
Time ticks by slowly until it’s time to drive to his apartment. I park in the visitor’s parking and take the short trip upstairs before knocking on his door.
When he answers, he’s in a suit, a button-up shirt, but no tie. I guess he opted to keep things professional, too. I’m in a pencil skirt, a button-up blouse, and heels. My long hair is pulled up into a ponytail.
Our eyes meet, and for a moment, we stand there, both breathless.
Finally, he steps aside. “Thank you for coming, Dina.”
“Thank you for having me. Dinner was something I couldn’t pass.” I can smell the aroma of food luring me to the square dining table. He leads me there and pulls my seat out for me. While I wait for him, I look around.
The apartment is neater than I remember it being. He comes out with two steaming plates of food and sets mine in front of me.
“Steak, mash, and vegetables doused in a thick savory gravy,” he announces. He sets his food down and opens a bottle of Merlot, filling my glass.
“Molly must have made this, you’re a shit cook.” I look up at him with a cheeky smile.
He chuckles. “Of course. I can’t fucking cook.”
He fills his own glass and sets the bottle down, sitting opposite me.
“Enjoy,” he says, picking up his cutlery. I follow suit, and for a moment, the only sound in the room is the clinking of knives and forks against the plates.
“We’ve found photos of an Italian family that seems to be behind the attacks,” I say, looking up at him steadily. He meets my gaze and nods for me to continue. “We’ve had reports there was a pale, red-haired man with them but haven’t got an image of him yet.”
I hash through the information I have, and I’m surprised by how intently he watches me and how seriously he is taking me.
After I’m done, Robbie sets his cutlery down. “We’ve identified the guns as basic and easily-modifiable handguns.” He tells me about the lists they’ve compiled and how they’re going through CCTV footage of nearby shops.
“I think they’re going to try to hit the family lunch,” I say as I finish my food and wipe my mouth with a serviette. “I think we need to put our most trusted guys there.”
“If the higher-up members of the family and their partners are attacked, it will be war. If they die, it’ll create a huge vacuum for any old asshole with enough men to fill.” Robbie sighs and pushes his plate away from him.
Robbie gets up. “Let’s sit on the sofa so we’re more comfortable.”
I hesitate before I take my glass and move to the sofa. He brings the wine and refills my glass. He fills his and sets the bottle on the coffee table. He sits beside me, with a space between us, and now an awkward silence falls.
“I missed you.” There it is, the feelings.
I sip my wine, but before I can respond, he sets his glass down and looks at me. “I will burn down New York for you, Dina. I would kill every fucker that crossed you.”
“That’s the problem,” I say sternly, looking at him as seriously as I can. I try not to let my feelings betray me. I set my glass down. “We can’t have that kind of distraction. And our relationship? The men will never accept it. They will think we betrayed them.”
Robbie shifts forward, and I want to move back, but I don’t. He puts an arm around the back of the sofa. “They don’t have to know. This can stay between us until we get the men on our side.”
I swallow. When did I start breathing so hard? And audibly?
Robbie moves closer so our legs are touching, and his face is inches from mine. “You intoxicate me. All I can think of is you. I promise I won’t do anything you don’t want. You know me, Dina. I fuck hard and rough and love to make you orgasm so hard you can’t walk.”
There’s a distinct wetness between my legs that I struggle to control the softer his voice becomes. I can feel his warm breath on my lips. He is rough and tough and crazy, and it is sexy as hell-even if I would never say it out loud.
His eyes are heavy-lidded as he studies my eyes, our gazes locked on each other. He shifts, and his hands grab my blouse and rip it open so my bra is exposed. My breasts are barely held back by my bra but still bounce from being released by the tight shirt fabric.
I lick my lips slowly. “Robbie.”
He runs the back of a finger over where he correctly guesses my nipple is hiding away. It sends a strong signal to my pussy. A longing ache.
“Robbie.” It’s barely more than a whisper.
“Dinara,” he murmurs.
His hands reach up and yank my bra down so it’s hooked under my breasts, freeing them to his touch. He instantly starts tugging and pulling my nipples, and I whimper. I try to pull away, but at the same time, my legs part slightly.
Quick as a flash, a hand snakes between them and roughly massages my clit through my panties. I can feel the heat on my face and close my eyes. “Robbie.” It’s more of a plea, louder, and I know it excites him because he massages my clit harder.
His hands briefly abandon me, and I open my eyes to see him undoing his pants to free his erection.
“Get up.” It’s a command that I obey, and I put a leg on either side of him on the sofa. I hold myself up as he rubs the sides of my legs. He looks up at me, and that’s when he reaches up and wraps a hand around my throat. Just tight enough to apply pressure.
“Good girl,” he says, holding his cock so I can slowly lower myself and let it fill me. He grunts, and there’s a lust in his eyes, a lust I only ever see when he’s with me-the possessive side to him that I questioned before but now I find enticing.
I breathe hard, his right hand staying around my throat as I look down at him and start to move myself up and down. His left hand finds my breast, squeezes it, and then teases the nipple. I whimper, but I don’t raise my hands. I submit to him, trusting him to pleasure me.
He stops me and tilts his head. “Lean back, I’ve got you.”
I look at him questionably as he holds my hips, and I slowly lean back. He lowers me so that my back is on the ground, cock still pulsating inside of me, my hips and legs in the air. It’s not comfortable, but the angle that his cock is makes me see stars.
“Stay there, lass.” He grunts and shifts around until I’m steady and my knees are bent to my head, basically bending me in half. He holds my thighs and starts moving up and down quickly.
“Oh my… Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” I can’t keep the desperation out of my voice as I reach new highs, new pleasures.
I don’t think I can go any higher before his finger finds my clit while he’s bouncing his body to jackhammer me into the floor.
I am completely vulnerable in this position, and I know it can’t be comfortable for him either, but the pleasure it’s bringing me is overwhelming. I look up at him, panting with my mouth slightly open. My eyes meet his hungry gaze, those blue eyes that see right through me.
“Play with your tits,” he grunts. “I want to see you playing with yourself.”
I shift so I hold my breasts in my hands and start to massage them. They’re so sensitive from how he’s roughed them up. My nipples are stiff and fiery to the touch. I rock back and forth slightly as he moves faster. It’s hard to catch my breath with his weight bearing down on me and the angle at which I’m bent, but he’s like a man possessed.
He flicks my clit, hard, and I yelp. He flicks it again.
“You going to squirt again, Dinara.” It isn’t a question as my pussy clenches around his cock. He buries himself in me and uses his fingers to quickly work my swollen nub. I try to squirm away, but all he does is force my legs apart and bend, and without warning, my pussy erupts with liquid and pleasure. It sprays all over me, so I shut my eyes, but my mouth stays open, and I can taste myself as I let out a scream of pleasure. I feel like a porn star on a B-rated movie. When I stop after a few seconds, I feel him slide his cock out of me, but he doesn’t let me up.
I wipe my face and blink my eyes open to see him stroking himself. Then he tilts his head back, and his cum hits my tits and face. I open my mouth instinctively to catch some, and when he opens his eyes to look at the cum on my tongue, I swallow it.
He’s smiling that little smirk-satisfied that I’m satisfied.
“Let’s move this to the bedroom.” He chuckles.
Okay, maybe some more satisfaction won’t hurt.