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"Stay here? At your house?"

He must find my words amusing because he smiles. Those very pale blue eyes twinkle with mirth. He somehow pulls off skinhead and facial tattoos.

How?

"Yes, malyshka. I promise that my bed is the safest place to be."

Baby.

"Your bed?" I ask and then laugh loudly, following with a snort.

I don't even care how unattractive it sounds. I'm hysterical at the fact that this near-bald dude thinks I'm sharing a bed with him.

"There is no way in hell that I am sharing a bed with-"

I'm cut off by his lips on mine. Literally. He grabs my wrist and tugs me against his body sharply. He holds both of my wrists with his huge hands and seals his lips over mine, cutting off the last of my sentence.

My eyes are wide open in shock, staring at his closed eyelids. His lips are soft and warm and, under different circumstances when I might want to be kissed; very kissable. But this was uninvited.

I pull back and struggle to get my wrists free of his iron-like grip. "What the fuck was that? You can't just go around kissing people who don't-"

The smug bastard kisses me again. This time, he backs me up against one of the walls. With one hand, he pins my wrists above my head. With the other, he holds my jaw, pinning me in place. He moves his lips over mine, trying to coax a response from me.

My traitorous body caves. I kiss him back. My lips, acting of their own volition, soften and mould against his.

Oh, this isn't a good idea.

My slutty, hoe body thinks it's a great idea. I wiggle against him, feeling the muscular plains of his solid form. He pins me tighter to the wall and grinds his hips against mine. The erection pressing on my stomach doesn't gross me out like it should. Oh, no, my greedy pussy is wet as fuck and wanting more.

Needy hoe.

He pulls back and I hold in a whimper at the loss of his touch. He releases my hands and I slowly bring them back down to hang on either side of my body. We're both breathing heavily. His full lips are slightly swollen, his cheeks flushed and his pupils dilated with desire. I imagine I look very similar.

"Let me feed you before I fuck you, malyshka. You're going to need your strength."

I open my mouth to protest but close it before he makes me eat my own words. There's no point arguing at this point, my body has made it very clear that it wants this man.

I can't remember the last time I had sex, maybe a month or two ago, and I definitely can't remember the last time I had good sex. Something tells me that this Russian mob boss gives good sex. It's in the way he walks.

Dinner is...a strange experience. The mob boss cooks, which is a surprise. I'll admit, I made a snap judgement about him and didn't expect him to cook his own meals. He confesses that he doesn't usually do it, but made the effort for me.

As we're eating dessert, I realise something. "I don't even know your name."

"My name is Czar Alexeev," he answers with a smile.

"Czar? That's a cool name."

"It means emperor in Russian."

"Wow."

When we finish eating, Czar takes my hand and kisses the back of it. My hand trembles as he kisses it all over. He trails his kisses up my arm until he gets to my neck.

"I want to take you up to my room," he murmurs huskily against my skin.

His hand caresses the outside of my breast. I can feel everything through the thin material of my work blouse. I look down at his hands and capture them in my own. I hold them in front of me so that I can look at them.

There are tattoos covering the entire back of his hands. His fingers are inked up to his nails. I run my fingers over the patterns. All the writing is in Russian, rendering it impossible for me to read. Czar lets me study has tattoos, I think he likes my fascination with them, strokes his ego.

I'd like to stroke something else...

My eyes meet his and something passes between us. Sexual tension brews and I lick my lips. His heated eyes follow the movement. I clench my thighs together, Czar notices. He stands up suddenly and offers out his hand to me. I put my hand in his and let him lead me upstairs.

It's completely silent in the house. We are alone on the top floor, it seems. He takes me to the room at the very end of the corridor. I can't pinpoint exactly how I'm feeling, there are too many emotions swirling inside me. Excitement and anxiety are definitely two of the main ones.

I took off my shoes earlier and my bare toes sink into the plush carpet of his bedroom. The huge, modern headboard draws attention to the bed. It reaches all the way up to the ceiling and looks more like a sculpture than a piece of furniture to sleep on.

There isn't much else in the room other than a mirror, a chest of drawers and a bookcase. The open door in the corner reveals his wardrobe, which is apparently an entire room. The room he keeps his clothes in is the size of my bedroom.

Czar gives me a few minutes of admiring his room before striding towards me. I swallow hard at the purposeful look in his eyes. When he reaches me, he grabs the back of my neck and kisses me, hard.

His body is tough and unforgiving against mine, I simply mould against him. He grasps my upper arms and turns me around, his mouth still sealed over mine. He backs me up to the wall and pins me against it. I think he likes trapping me so that I have nowhere to go.

His callous, brutish hands feel up my body. He squeezes my breasts over my blouse before getting impatient and tearing it open. The buttons fly across the room and land with gentle thuds on the carpet.

He pulls back the fabric and all but attacks my breasts with his lips. He kisses and licks my breasts above the cups of my bra. When he grows impatient with it, he unhooks it at the back and pulls it from my arms, taking my torn blouse with it. His mouth latches over my nipple. It's hot and wet and the suction from his tongue makes my back arch away from the wall.

My fingers delve into his hair and tug on the strands. He grunts against my skin and moves over to the other nipple. My right nipple, cold from being wet in the air, twists into a hard bud. He wraps his stubby fingers around it and pinches. His nails are cut back short, his fingers thick and rounded at the ends like a workman's hands. There is nothing soft about them, there are rough callouses on his palms, I recognise them as ones you get from repeatedly lifting weights at the gym.

He pulls back suddenly and straightens up. His eyes are dark with desire. It's oddly intimidating, it's like he's totally in the zone and lost his humanity. I can imagine that he looks like this when he makes a kill. He grabs me and throws me over his shoulder. I don't get any time to adjust to being upside down because he chucks me onto his bed like some caveman.

I lay on the mattress, breathing heavily as I watch him undress. He removes his clothes piece by piece and reveals his body to me inch by inch. I can't take my eyes away from his body. Like his hands, the rest of his body is covered in tattoos. Every square inch of available skin on his legs, chest and back is covered. Along with the smattering of chest hair, there are also a handful of scars from old fights.

The pinkest one, obviously the most recent, is a jagged slash across his ribs. When he comes to kneel on the bed in front of me, I trace my fingers over it. He catches my wrist and brings my hand up to his face. He kisses my knuckles in a delicate gesture. I'm lulled into a false sense of security which makes it all the more surprising when he drops my hand, grabs my neck and pushes me onto my back.

With one hand wrapped tightly around my neck, holding me in place and letting me know just who is in charge, he uses the other to pull down my skirt. My underwear follows. I'm naked and he is in only his boxers, which have a substantial tent.

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Part two tomorrow...brace yourselves and please try not to judge me 😈💀