All Nora James Grey needed was a fast escape out of the country, but when she stows away on a multimillion dollar yacht, she has no idea she’s getting a lot more than what she bargained for. The man who owns the yacht is a tall, menacing Russian Bratva gangster covered in tattoos.
Nikolai Rogozin didn’t plan on bringing a young college girl accused of murder across the Gulf of Mexico, not with the danger he’s in. But when Nora is discovered, he finds the perfect cover. The evil cartel boss he’s headed to see has one redeeming quality: she believes in love and family.
So Nora James Grey is going to be Nikolai Rogozin’s wife. First she needs to be punished till her bottom is blushing pink. Then he’s going to possess her, dominate her and show her what it’s like to be a Bratva Bride.
This is book one in the Dark and Ruthless series. It is a complete story with a HEA and can be enjoyed independently.
Publisher’s Note: This contemporary romance contains elements of danger, mystery, suspense, action, adventure, sensual scenes, possible triggers, and power exchange.
“Come for me. You’re going to come.”
She nodded, and he guided her face forward leading her by the grip he held on her silky blonde hair. He brought her close, like he would kiss her. But he didn’t. He held his gaze over top of hers, and Nora tightened her thighs on him, her arms going around her own legs, those beautiful hands clutching her knees while he pleasured her with his fingers.
“You’re going to come. You hear me?”
“Oh God, yes,” she gasped, her whisper shrill.
“Come for me, Nora. Show me your face when you orgasm.”
And she didn’t turn away, turned her chin upward toward him, her expression open and relaxed, and he watched it tighten again. Watched her lips peel back to show those perfect white teeth. Practically a snarl. A little she-wolf in heat. His fingers plunged in and out quicker and quicker, and now his thumb drove harsh circles against her swollen bud. She began humping him, sitting in place, but her hips thrusting forward to meet the pulsing of his fingers. She bit her own lips, began snorting through her nostrils, and he commanded, “Come for me now.”
It spiraled up out of Nora. A whining sound like an incoming tornado; her back arched and her face drifted away, her eyes narrow and her gaze distant and unseeing. Her mouth hung open, and he fought the urge to take her little pink tongue into his mouth.
She bucked and jolted, her thighs squeezed together crushing the muscle of his arm. He drove his fingers deep and mashed his thumb down on her nub. She writhed, moaning and biting her lips, then releasing them and gasping. She groaned and wailed, her hands in fists. Her insides turned to liquid, and he pulled out his fingers, smoothing them up through her furled flesh, massaging her, resting his hand on her flat but heaving stomach. She’d fallen back against the couch, exposing herself to him, her little pink flower showing. Both her legs open wide, heels still planted on the couch edge. But she was bewildered, momentarily dispossessed of consciousness. He dried his fingers on the inside of the fur blanket, closed her thighs and closed up the blanket around her again.