Redemption (The Volkov Mafia Series Book 4) Page 3

  I opened my legs, dropping my knees to the side so that my pussy was on full display for him to look at, to taste, to do whatever he wanted with it.

  And he did, multiple times over the next few days and weeks. He trained me to be the perfect woman, willing to do anything to please a man, to give him what he needed.

  The memories are vivid to say the least. I hate thinking about everything. It really does make the pain of what happened real, but it also makes the shame that I felt real, too. At least here, in this room, I’m safe. No one can hurt me.

  And now, to add to my misery, the one man I actually like thinks I’m a whore, an easy lay that he can use just like all the others have.

  I didn’t want to sleep with Alek tonight. I just wanted to give him a kiss, have him take me out on a real date, but things got pretty hot very quick. I don’t regret what we did because it brought my body to life, and I will treasure that memory forever. It’s the thought of his judgement that has me running scared, fleeing for the hills so that I can hide forever. I’m not weak, I hardly ever cry. Even after everything Ivan put me through, I didn’t cry. Not once. He didn’t deserve my tears. They are only meant for people I care about.

  But I suppose that means in some deep and twisted part of my soul, I care for Alek. Oh hell, who am I kidding? I know I do. And that’s what scares me, to not have it returned, to put yourself out there, to fight for what you want only to be shot down at the last fence because of judgement. It’s a cruel world we now live in. One where, as time goes on, more and more people will forget what it takes to be decent.

  The gentle knocking on my door is persistent. If I just ignore it, whoever is there will go away, surely. But then I think to myself, what if there is something wrong with Anya and I need to get to her? I throw the cover off me to go and check when I hear the knock again. This time it’s a little louder and harsher. That is the knock of someone growing impatient.

  I unlock the door and slowly pull it open, peeking outside to see who awaits me. Who I see on the other side is a surprise.

  “What are you doing here, Alek? Are you here to make me feel worse than I already do?” I ask him. I don’t know where my bravado is coming from, but I’m not in the mood to hear this right now. My emotions are everywhere; the feeling of satisfaction, also the feeling of regret and shame. I can’t help feeling this way about him, but I do. I don’t want him to tell me it was a mistake, or that he regrets what we did. I don’t think the little bit of happiness I feel right now could take the rejection from him.

  “Why did you run from me?”

  I look to him with a stunned expression and my jaw must be on the floor. Did he really just ask me that? I open the door wide so that he can enter my room. Right now I’m not sure if I’m doing it out of politeness because I don’t want everyone hearing this, or if I want him in my room for other reasons. Only time will tell, but I’m hoping for the latter.

  “I ran because I didn’t want you to be the first to tell me this was a mistake, or that it was no good, that you regret what we did together.” I can’t seem to stop the words from pouring out of my mouth. What’s wrong with me? I’m like a teenager with a fucking crush, it’s pathetic. I’m pathetic.

  “You’re so wrong, Emma. You haven’t got a fucking clue, have you? You think you know what I’m feeling, you don’t even know me. So how can you judge? Isn’t that what you were scared I would do to you, yet you went and made that judgment yourself. You took the coward’s way out and fucking ran from me.”

  His words hit me straight in the gut. His face is tightly set, his pain and anguish palpable. His eyes are hard and cold, like his world has been ripped away from him.

  Am I really that vain and narrow-minded that I run before I can walk? That I take a stereotype and apply it to everyone I meet? At some point in life we have to face the music and take responsibility for our actions.

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper, my voice small and weak. “I was scared that you would judge me because of what happened and how I came to be here. I thought you would look at me like some cheap, dirty whore, and that your view on me would change.” What else can it be? I judged him, and now I’m the one who is ashamed of myself.

  “If you had stayed all you would have seen was admiration for what you survived. But most of all you would have known I wanted you there with me. If I had my way we wouldn’t have left my bed, you would still be in it now, and I would still be worshiping your body.” His tone has softened as have his eyes. I see the hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth, and just before I can form my reply, he speaks again.

  “Emma, look. We all have crap in our past that haunts us, hell, I have more than you think, but I won’t push and I won’t railroad you into doing something you don’t want to do.”

  I nod at him, not sure what else to say. He is hiding more demons than I first thought. I knew about the attack that left him hurt, it was all anyone talked about for weeks after I arrived. It broke my heart to listen to what happened to his mum and to see what they did to him. I couldn’t help, but every day I watched him get up more determined than ever to be a better man. He worked out every day, he ate better, and the change has been stunning. His body has more bulk and his arms have ink that’s like a woven story drawn on a blank canvas, one that lets the reader decipher but only the holder knows the truth.

  “Why did you stay away from me then if not out of shame?” I have to know. It will eat away at me if I don’t.

  “You think it was shame that kept me away? I didn’t want to break you even more, Emma. That’s why I kept it distant between us, because from the minute I set eyes on you I wanted to own you.” His admission floors me. What am I supposed to do with that? How am I supposed to comprehend his words without falling for him even more?

  “So what happens now?” I ask him. I stand, looking up at him, wondering what he will say, how he will look at me from now on.

  Will it just be a one-time thing or will we get to be more than a passing nod, a simple smile, or even a shy hello? I know this man’s body, and I now crave what he will do to me.

  “You know the answer to that, Emma. If I wanted a quick fuck, I wouldn’t be stood here inside your room wanting to rip your clothes off and throw you up against the nearest wall. I would have just let you run off and that would have been the end of it.”

  Desire rips through my body at his words, the sensation in my tummy sending heat straight to my pussy. I clench my fists together to stop myself from running into his arms, telling him to do it, that I want him to throw me up against the wall. To claim me, to own me.

  “I think I would like that,” I say meekly.

  I don’t have time to look up before he has his hands on the side of my face, claiming my lips. His tongue delves into my mouth, exploring the warm cavern. I feel his strength through his hold walking me backwards. Thank God he’s keeping me steady, because if he lets go now, my legs would give out on me.

  I feel the wall behind me, its coolness slamming into my back, the chill making everything stand on end. My body is on fire for him. I feel his hands grip the inside of my top and rip it right down the middle. I’m braless underneath, so I’m fully exposed to him as soon as the material leaves my body. My jeans are next. The pop of the button sounds so much louder to my ears. The roughness of the material sliding down my legs is turning me on tenfold. They pool at my feet and I step out of them wearing nothing but an electric blue lace thong. His eyes roam over every inch of my lithe body, tracing every small curve, his fingers roughly claiming every inch of me.

  I drag my hands up towards his t-shirt and pull it over his head, my fingers itching to explore more of him. The belt buckle is next. I look up through hooded eyes as I pull it open, pop the row of buttons on his jeans and stand amazed as they fall effortlessly from his hips. I gasp a little as I see he is hard for me, thick and long, able to fill the void he left behind from before. It’s a sorry state when after only two hours I’m craving him again.

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nbsp; His mouth traces down my neck and across my collarbone, his teeth grazing the sensitive spots. His hands hold me in place against the wall and his hips push his cock closer to my tummy. Heat emanates from the tip and I’m getting wetter by the second. I can feel it in between my thighs, warm and wet, just for Alek.

  His knee nudges my thighs apart and I spread them freely for him. My arms loop around his neck as his knee pushes me further up the wall. My legs grip onto his hips to keep myself where he wants me. The only thing separating us now is the blue thong, but I have a feeling that won’t matter much longer. His kisses are hungry and full of passion for me, and I’m lapping every bit of it up, not knowing when I will feel like this again.

  He grips the side of my thong. I hear the tearing of the fabric and he quickly pulls them off. As my jaw hangs open at the sight before me, he quickly stuffs the blue material inside my mouth.

  “This is going to be hard and fast, baby. You’re not going to be able to scream as the house is full.”

  I nod at his words as his cock finds my pussy and barrels upwards in one quick stroke, knocking the air from my lungs. The pleasure consumes me as he finds his rhythm. His hips never stop, pistoning hard and fast, rolling on the up stroke to catch my g–spot. It doesn’t take long before I’m screaming into the thong stuffed in my mouth.

  My muffled sounds only seem to spur him on. His hands move up my body; one grips onto my arse, and the other is now wrapped around my neck keeping my head against the wall as he pumps faster, taking me to new places. I feel like I’m floating, and the little white spots I see just behind my closed eyes are a blinding moment of release. I open my eyes a little and see his face set in a hard line. Sweat forms on his sexy body, trickling down his pecs towards his pelvis and to where we join. My back feels red raw from sliding viciously up and down the wall.

  His movements waver as he gets closer. He drops his hand from my neck and puts it on my clit, squeezing gently at first, then he becomes faster as he is teetering on the edge, his fingers get harder. The pressure is enough to send me over with a muffled scream. He freezes deep inside me as he releases everything he has, coating me, claiming me, branding me.

  His mouth finds mine again in a kiss so passionate our breathing becomes laboured. Sweat coats our writhing bodies. He pulls out and drops me to the floor, placing me back on shaky legs.

  Chapter Four

  Alekzander

  “Alek! Alek! Wake up.” The siren’s call pulls me from my nightmare. I wake up with a start, my body doused in sweat.

  Her arm is resting on my chest; it feels like a lead weight, pinning me down, suffocating me. I bolt upright in her bed. Her arm drops as she retrieves the duvet to cover herself from me. It’s the same nightmare over and over again; my mother screaming to be saved as they deliver the final blow, but I didn’t see it. My mind has come up with this scenario, formed from the pieces that I could place, all the little snippets that come and go every now and then.

  My hands twitch and my mind goes into overdrive. The only way I can prevent this from spiraling out of control is to take my mind off the problem. Normally I would open the laptop and place a few bets just to forget the pain for a little while.

  “Are you ok, Alekzander?” Her voice is timid and meek, like a lost little puppy looking for its master.

  “I’m fine. Go back to sleep, Emma,” I tell her, trying to keep my breathing under control, when all I want to do is climb out of bed, grab the laptop and open up one of the online betting sites. Horse racing, football, formula one, as well as all the casino games; Blackjack, Poker, Roulette. You name it, I can bet on it.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” she asks me politely.

  “No, I don’t want to fucking talk about it, ok! I told you it was nothing so go back to sleep. Just let it be!” I didn’t mean to raise my voice at her. She flinches at my words and I suddenly feel like a twat.

  “Your right, sorry!” Her tone is anything but sorry, it sounds downright sarcastic. I watch as she scrambles out of the bed like her feet are on fire. She grabs my clothes and throws them at me.

  “Get out, Alek. You don’t get to speak to me like that. I’ve had to deal with enough arseholes to last me a lifetime.”

  I make a move to stand. I watch as her eyes roam my body as the clothes drop to the floor. I could change her mind — it wouldn’t take much — but I think right now that would only make it worse for both of us. I scoop up my clothes and make my way to her bedroom door, naked. I’m not ashamed of how I look, and the chance of finding anyone out of bed at this time of the morning is very slim. So I pull open the door and walk out.

  If that’s the way she wants to play it then so be it. She will cave before I give in to her. But no sooner I get into my room and remove my clothes, I miss her warmth already. For months now she has been the only woman that I’ve wanted to fall asleep with, but I’m not going to dwell on that. I have something here that will take all the pain away and will never give me shit.

  I open the laptop and load up the favorites page. I know exactly what I will see as soon as it loads the login page. The details are already saved so all I have to do is hit enter, and I’m in.

  I place a couple of small bets to take the edge off, nothing huge, though. I can’t take that risk again.

  I hit the roulette first, I always play the zero. That’s just my number, sometimes it pays sometimes it doesn’t. Tonight, however, it’s not paying, and before I know it I’ve made a few too many bets and spent near enough all of the credit I had gained on the account.

  Good job I know my bank card details off by heart; time to make a little deposit to try and get me back in the game.

  It’s about eight o’clock in the morning when I finally close the laptop, and I’m now in a worse mood than I was before. I just couldn’t help myself, I had to try and win it back. This was exactly how I was with mum, and when shit really hit the fan, I swore to Damien I was done, that I didn’t need to gamble anymore, that I wouldn’t ever put his family at risk again.

  There is something seriously wrong with me if I can’t do something that should be so easy, to keep the family that took me in safe. They saved me when I needed it most.

  I look down at the screen that holds the fate of my family and realise I’ve done it again. There will be no coming back this time; he will kill me if I hurt them again. Not just him, he has Malc as well. He won’t hesitate to put me down. To take me out like some sick dog on its last legs.

  Do you ever wish you could have a do over in life? Well, right now I wish I could have one. That first time I ever gambled, I would’ve simply stopped myself. I would have been stronger. I would have walked away.

  But no. I had to go and get myself in all this shit and bring trouble. It’s like history repeating itself. I just can’t seem to stop.

  I’ve found someone else to loan me the money. Granted, not as much as Ivan did, but it’s a start. I must owe him 10k by next week. I’ve had two months to pay it off, but I haven’t got a penny of it. I blew everything I had on a stupid bet because I was sure I would win. That’s the choice you make when you gamble, pussy on tap. No one can twist your arm. Just when you think it’s all over and you finally try to come to terms with the new life you have now, you always have to do something to fuck it up! It’s like we have our own self-destruct button, that every time we sense a bit of relief or that happiness is coming our way, we inadvertently fuck it up.

  Well that’s what I’m doing now: I’m digging my own grave, and using the biggest damn shovel I can find.

  I can’t see how I’m going to get out of this one. I can’t ask Damien for money. He would kill me if he knew I was gambling again. He told me last time I needed to get my shit sorted or I was out, that he would wash his hands of me for good. I can’t say I like that idea, not because of losing Damien, hell no! It’s the thought of not seeing Emma every day; the smile she gives me in the morning as she sits in the kitchen drinking her coffee, or when she’s getting re
ady for the day as I’m about to leave for work. Those are the little moments that keep me grounded, knowing that someone has had it worse than me and their not cowering behind some damn laptop screen looking for their next fix, so to speak.

  I’m the coward who can’t control his urges, who hides behind the pain and grief. I will never get over the death of my mother. I’m weak and give in to temptation. I wish I was hooked on something or someone else. Emma makes it better when I’m around her. She calms the storm that’s brewing deep inside.

  I need to see her. I need to see her sat in that chair in the kitchen drinking her coffee. I need that smile. Whether I get it or not is a different matter, especially after what I said to her early this morning. But I have to try ...

  I quickly jump in the shower and wash myself. No sooner I get in, I’m out just as quick. Opening the wardrobe, I pull out a nice, crisp, white shirt, and a pair of black trousers, and slip them on. The fit is a little tighter now that I’ve been working out several times a day. I roll up the sleeves to my elbows, putting my tattoos on show, hoping to entice her with the ink I know she loves.

  Leaving the top two buttons undone, I grab my shoes, put them on and make my way towards the kitchen. I will see that smile even if she doesn’t want to give it to me freely.

  I walk into the kitchen and my heart plummets; she’s not sat there. I quickly look around and notice there is no scent of freshly brewed coffee lingering in the air. I can’t even smell her perfume. I know she’s not been down this morning. I can’t say I blame her after what I said earlier.

  I’m not leaving this house until I’ve spoken to her. I don’t want her to shut me out, or for things to change between us. I walk out of the kitchen and head upstairs to her room.

  Knocking on the door gently, I wait, hoping that she answers.

  “What do you want, Alek? I have nothing to say to you,” I hear her sweet voice through the door, and it’s like music to my ears. Her words, on the other hand, make my fists clench at my sides. I want to bust the door down and make sure she fucking talks to me. But I don’t; I hold back knowing that brute force is not what’s needed right now.