Cruel Paradise - A Mafia Romance Chapter 83

—I’ll lick you dry later.”

With a promise like that, how could I not listen?

As far as downsides, they’re not nonexistent. As intoxicatingly, deliciously, amazingly exciting as all the sex is, my pussy is always sore. Come to think of it, all of me is sore all the time now.

Ah, the perils of a healthy sex life.

Phoebe would be so proud—that is, if she knew just how much sex Ruslan and I were having. The thing is, I didn’t want to tell her the contractual reason we are having so much sex, so it’s been simpler not to mention anything at all.

Simpler—though not easier.

Ruslan collects my hair into a loose ponytail and pulls hard as he starts thrusting even harder. I’m biting down on the heel of his palm, trying to keep the screams from alerting the entire floor of our new addiction. But when he gets that Neanderthal gleam in his eye and revs up the speed to maximum intensity, all self-control goes out the window.

I spasm forward as a fresh orgasm rockets through me, upending a stack of paperwork that I spent all morning on. I’m gonna be pissed about that later, but right now, I couldn’t care less—he just keeps ramming into me, his breaths getting shorter and shorter as we both reach our final peak.

Just when I see little blue stars pop up in front of my dizzy eyes, I feel him release, filling me with his hot cum.

Wonder if we made a baby this time…

Then again, I’ve been thinking that every time we’ve slept together the last few weeks. He straightens up and passes me my panties.

I can already feel the cum drip down my thighs but I ignore the tissue box and slide my panties on.

“People are gonna wonder why I smell like you all the time.”

Ruslan rounds the table and starts picking up the papers I upended. “If they have to wonder, they’re fucking stupid. It’s obvious.”

“Obvious to who?” I balk.

Ruslan smirks. “You’ve never spent this much time in my office, Ms. Carson.”

“Oh, God. I’m the whore of Bane Corp. The Hester Prynne of New York City. Might as well get a scarlet A embroidered on all my blouses.”

Ruslan just chuckles. “Red does look good on you.”

I launch a paper clip at him. “Not funny.”

Still laughing, he steps over and smooths a wayward hair out of my face with a tender stroke of his fingers. “Who cares what people are saying, kiska? No one knows about the contract and that’s all that matters. And anyway, you’ll be pregnant with my baby soon. If they haven’t figured it out by now, that’ll certainly do the trick.”

My mouth drops. “I hadn’t thought about that.”

“Well, you’ve been distracted lately.”

I roll my eyes while trying to suppress a smile. Then I gather up the schedule I brought in here, which is now ripped down the middle thanks to the way Ruslan grabbed me the second I walked in and bent me over his desk.

“I’ll go print out another one of these.”

Knock, knock, knock.

I glance towards the door. It’s a very pointed knock. Also a very familiar one. Kirill has made more than one joke about wearing a bell on a collar around his neck so we can hear him coming.

“Come in,” Ruslan calls.

Kirill walks in, stops at Ruslan’s desk, and glares at the two of us, knowing without having to ask what just happened. “For fuck’s sake.” He wrinkles his nose. “Again?”

Ruslan just chuckles and dismisses me with a wink and a nod. I hurry out, doing my best to hide the blush on my cheeks.

I’m not at my desk ten minutes before my phone pings.

RUSLAN: I’ve got a club event to go to next week. I need a plus-one.

EMMA: And you want me to go with you?

RUSLAN: Yes.

EMMA: And just so we’re clear—I’d be your date. Your only date.

RUSLAN: That is correct, Ms. Carson.

It is extremely hard not to go straight into my happy dance. But a few junior execs are milling around right now and I don’t need people gossiping about me any more than they already are. So I suppress the excited butterflies fluttering around in my stomach and focus on my phone EMMA: Hm. I’ll think about it.

RUSLAN: Wanna come back in here so I can help you think about it?

EMMA: You are an animal!

RUSLAN: Don’t you forget it.

EMMA: Fine. I’ll go.

RUSLAN: That’s what I thought.

Look at us, flirting and everything. Like a normal couple. It’s enough to make me giddy. These last couple of weeks have me in a constant good mood. So good that I can’t help thinking the same question that inevitably crops up whenever life happens to look this beautiful for any stretch of time.

When will the other shoe drop?

58

EMMA

“What about Russy?”

I hide my snort of laughter behind a cough when Ruslan shoots me a glare. Then he turns his attention back to the two little goobers who have been heckling him for an endless, relentless thirty minutes. “No.”

“Can I call you Ru-Ru?”

He looks pained. “Not if you want me to respond.”

Josh is setting the table with a huge smile on his face. It’s so great to see him like this. Sometimes, I feel like the only time I see that smile is when Ruslan’s around.

And he has been around recently.

At least two nights a week, he drives me home and entertains the kids while I get dinner ready. Sometimes, he helps them build pillow forts in the girls’ room; other times, the evenings are devoted to Lego castles on the living room carpet. And then there are the nights, like tonight, when everyone is congregated around the kitchen table, talking over one another about nothing at all.

It’s true that I’m not his girlfriend and he’s not my boyfriend.

It’s true that we have a legally-binding contract that goes into explicit, excruciating detail about every facet of our relationship.

It’s true that he’s offering me money in exchange for whatever he expects of me.

It’s also true that he’s never said he loves me and he probably never will.

But the thing is, he’s amazing with my kids. He’s taken to them and they’ve taken to him in a way I would never have thought possible. I genuinely believe he cares about me. Enough to want to take care of my debt and my legal expenses and all the little stresses of my day-to-day life.

He’s got a wall up around his heart, but he told me why. And I’m willing to bet that opening up to anyone isn’t something that Ruslan Oryolov does very often.

Most importantly, we are monogamous.