Dmitry's Royal Flush: Rise of the Queen (19 page)

His grip was powerful and found its way to her hair, pulling her body further down into his lap, onto his erection. She melted.

His kiss moved from her lips, to her chin, to her neck. His hot tongue brushed against her soft brown skin as his hands pulled her dress up just above her buttocks.

Their breathing escalated. His hand massaged her round buttocks and felt the smooth wetness in between her thighs. He could not stop. With a yank of her panties, he tore them off and slipped his fingers into her body. She closed her eyes and moaned, only to feel him pull the dress off of her.

Breasts exposed, she planted her knees on either side of him in the chair as he tasted the brown tips of her nipples. She moaned and arched her back. He bit her, nibbled at her skin. The pain radiated from her breasts to the tips of her toes.

She ran her hands through his curly, dark hair and then lifted his face to kiss him again. Her hands unbuttoned his shirt and revealed his muscular tan chest donning a plethora of tattoos. Sexy. So very sexy.

Anatoly picked her and himself up in one motion and laid her on the floor. He couldn't bring himself to wait long enough to carry her to the bedroom. He had to have her now.

She watched him as his trousers fell to the floor revealing tanned muscular legs. He fished out a condom, slid it on and kicked off his pants and underwear. He wasn't modest, didn't give a damn about the way things looked. He only wanted her.

Pushing her legs open, he leaned into her body and felt her naked flesh against his own for the first time. She was soft like silk. Unable to help himself, he ran his hands over her smooth bikini line. knew her mouthwatering brown mound, but he quickly decided against it.

Victoria arched her hips, awaiting his entry. What did she care that he was not into oral. There was only one thing on her mind. The ten inch phallic form standing upright before her. He came to her hastily, surging into her without words or theatrics. He filled her quickly, pulsating as he did. He dug his knees into the fine plush carpet and groaned.

Victoria let out a long whimper. He was exceedingly large. His muscular, vein-filled hips pushed into her body with hard pumps that rocked her and burned her back against the carpet with the rapid friction.

Fingers splayed out on his wide back, she held on as he ripped through her body. The ecstasy of his strong strokes made a sensual moan erupt from her throat.

He covered her mouth with a kiss and slipped a finger behind her into her buttocks. She looked She kept herself up very well. If he better, he would have tasted her up startled.
So, he was a kinky bastard
. She loved the foreign, naughty exhilaration but would deny him the pleasure he silently asked for. Not yet. Not tonight.

She finally pushed against his chest and made him roll over. Straddling him, she felt both his hands on her hips, pushing her down on top of him. He planted his feet and lifted them both off the floor. She pushed back, eager to ride him, moving her hips wildly on top of him.

Anatoly clenched his jaw and bucked back. He watched her body soar into the air in slow motion. With nearly the same force, she pushed back against his force again, making him fall to the ground.

He understood what she was doing—fighting for dominance. He wouldn't give it to her, unless she gave him what he wanted, and he had a feeling that she would not. So, he would make her suffer.

He quickly flipped her on her side and pulled her thick thighs back towards him. He could feel the tension in her body. She was afraid of how he would take her, but he would control his carnal desires—at least for tonight. Now beside her, he entered her warm vagina again and wrapped his arm around her small perky breasts.

The power made her clamor in his embrace. He pushed inside of her again and again until she felt a tremor from deep inside her body. She tried to pull away, but the agile young man pulled her to her knees and laid her on the couch where he took her from behind. One of his large hands was wrapped into a fist around her black hair and the other slapped against her brown, perfect buttocks, splattering the sweat that ran down from her back.

In perfect view of her long temple, he opened her wide, pulled back, and then felt her body began to vibrate. She clawed the sofa as she climaxed. The wetness of her body made for warmer more vivid sensations for him. He groaned as he watched, amazed at the contrast of their skin colors, the heat of her skin, the look of her.

Screaming his name as he picked her little body up, he pulled it into his rock hard erection. She was now not on the floor or the sofa but suspended in the air, trapped in his embrace. He held her close as he came. With his face against her back and his long arms cradling her, he caught his breath and moved her long hair out of his way.

When he was done, she sat in his lap, covered in sweat and drained. He picked her up off his penis sat her on the couch gently, exhibiting the last bit of strength that she had failed to deplete.

"Now you can go pack," he said, clearing his throat. His face was stone-like.

She looked across at him stunned and speechless.

* * *

"Lunch was great," Royal said, leaning into Dmitry as he bent to kiss her lips.

"
Da
? You liked? Good. Well have leftovers tonight for dinner," he rubbed through her hair and looked in her eyes. She looked flushed.

"Are you getting sick?"

"A cold maybe. I feel… hot," she lied. "Listen. I'm so behind at the shop until I need to stay later. I'll get one of the girls to bring me home tonight. If Anya could stay with you for the rest of the day that would be great."

"Of course. Just make sure that you don't end up at the shop tonight alone. If I need to, I'll leave here and stay with you until you finish."

"No," she said quickly. "The girls will stay with me. You go home and take Anya. I'll be there shortly."

"Okay," Dmitry felt Anya tugging at his leg. "Yes, baby, what is it?" He looked down at her.

"Can I help Javier wash the dishes?" Anya asked, interrupting her parents.

"No," Royal answered, rubbing Anya's head. "Stay out of the way and be a good girl."

Dmitry smiled. "See you tonight."

Royal left the restaurant quickly and headed towards the boutique in an eager stride.

While she had every intention of going back to Royal Flush, it was only to get the clothes that the stranger had purchased and hand-deliver them to him. There were things that had not been said, that needed to be said. He knew more than he led on, and she intended to find out what.

* * *

Dorian stood in the shower letting the hot water drench his tired muscles and relieve the tension in his back. That damned woman was still on his mind, even after many hours of planning to kill her husband. Her heart-shaped lips, her chocolate skin, her full breasts. They were features drawn from a comic book, so pronounced and beautiful. Three years of Dmitry's constant doting had done her well.

She looked like she did not have a care in the world until you looked into her dark eyes. They spoke volumes. They spoke of Ivan. He knew that it was Royal the moment he laid eyes on her. She looked like the woman in the photos only less innocent now, much less innocent. But he wanted to immediately reach out and kiss her. It was a strange reaction, and he was ashamed of it, but he could not deny his utter attraction to Dmitry's muse. She made him think of what it would be like to have his own family. After all, he was forty now. No wife. No children.

Dmitry was a lucky man. If he had Royal, even for just one night…

The door bell rang. He wiped the water from his face and turned off the shower. Wrapping a towel around his waist, he grabbed his gun and walked slowly to the door.

He looked out the peep hole to find Royal standing on the other side of the door. He stood back. Was this a trap? Or was it something else? He opened the door just enough to see her face.

"Your dress, sir," Royal said, holding up the dress bag. "And your jewelry for the soon-to-be Mrs. Oriachiav."

"Of course," Dorian said, looking behind her. "Are you alone?"

"Yes," she sighed. "Open the door. I know there's no one in there." Her voice was firm and low.

He paused then opened it, standing out of the way for her to pass. She walked in with the bags and looked around the suite.

Laying the dress across the nearest table, she turned around and looked at him. "I came to talk," she said, taking a seat. "But I'm sure that you already know that. It's the only reason you told me where to find you."

Dorian stood soaking wet with only a damp towel covering his large body. He wasn't nearly as tall as Dmitry, but he was a devastatingly handsome, milk-chocolate, muscular man with wavy hair, full lips, brilliantly bright brown eyes and chiseled features that made him appear to be more of a model than a mafia figure.

He clenched his towel tightly forbidding it to show the evident bulge between his large thighs. She was no longer a modest woman. She gawked at him outright, assessing all of his assets, making mental note all of his features. She drank him in without looking away.

"
Goodness
woman, where are you manners?" he asked finally.

"I don't know what you mean," she lied. "If you feel uncomfortable, you should probably go and get dressed." She crossed her legs and gave him a snooty look.

"How do I know that I trust you to sit there and not snoop until I return, huh?"

"Fine. Dress here," she crossed her arms. "I've only seen two men naked in my adult life. I'd be obliged to see one who wasn't biologically related to a Medlov."

"And I thought that you should be afraid of me," he said sarcastically.

"Well… "

He smirked. At least she had a since of humor. He dropped his towel and walked to the duffle bag only steps away from her to retrieve his underwear. Her eyes bulged out of her head as she watched his well-endowed manhood flop lazily across this thigh. There was clear satisfaction on her face.

In her mind, she could not help but think of Dmitry kissing that whore of a woman, Victoria. Suddenly, she felt vindicated.

"This is inappropriate," he said, slipping on his boxers. "You should be ashamed."

"I'm not," she said, stoned faced. "I enjoyed that.
Spasiba
. Now, on to my questions. Why are you here? Who are you? Where do you know the Medlov's from? What are your intentions? Where's your fucking fiancée?"

"Slow down," he raised his hand. "Please." Running his hand over his head, he grabbed his cargo pants and slipped them on. "Now that I'm at least presentable, would you care for anything to drink?"

"No. This isn't a social visit. I want to know what the hell you know about me."

"Nothing."

"Don't lie to me. Tell me the truth," she breathed heavily. "Or I'll call
him
. I'll tell him that I'm here and when he gets here, I'll still know who you are—right before he kills you. You might as well do it the easy way."

"I'm a business partner." He clenched his jaw and leaned over to her. "You need to be very, very careful about what threats you make."

"Oh, I know about threats. And unfortunately for you, they don't scare me anymore." She swallowed hard. "Now, what's your real name?"

"Dorian." He stood up.

"Why did you come to my shop?" she eyed his hairy six-pack.

"When I got here, I heard that Dmitry had another dress shop. It was too coincidental. So I came here to see for myself. I thought you were dead many years ago." He went to his bag and pulled out a t-shirt.

"I did die." Tears formed at the corners of her eyes. "Ivan killed me."

"I know." They made eye contact. "What Ivan did that day has haunted us all. At least, it has haunted me. I must confess to you that I had some idea of what he would do, but never did I think that he would take it to that extent. Once we all heard, it was too late. No one could believe the carnage that he left behind. We were all damned, and it was because we had done nothing to save you."

"Save me?"

"An innocent. You should have been left out of the war, especially when we heard the news of your pregnancy."

"Who is
we
?"

"
We
… everyone in the community in which your husband lived. You must not realize the power that he had… has." He smirked.

"No. I, pretty much, live a bottle. So why does all this change now? Why are you hear, Dorian?"

He slipped on the shirt and grabbed a seat. "Has Dmitry returned? Is coming back to the Vory? I need to know." He sat in the chair backwards and leaned his body against it.

"I don't know. He seemed differently lately, but not
that
different. I thought that he was done with all of that."

"Understand, I would have been happy to stay away from him for the rest of my life, but his son made the best offer. My clients would not refuse. I know once Dmitry sees me, a war will begin again. And while I am no coward, I assure you that, I feel compelled to try to stop this before it starts. However, once it starts, he leaves me no choice."

Royal looked him in his chestnut colored eyes and listened as he told her about the deal, about his old dealings with Dmitry through Ivan, about the botched assassination attempts and about the bombs he placed inside of Dmitry's restaurant in Memphis to kill the entire Medlov crime family three years prior.

Royal was flabbergasted. She sat petrified, unable to speak.

"I don't why I am telling you all of this. I guess for me, I thought God would punish me because of what happened to you. But now I see you and you are alive and I feel compelled to fix this, only I'm not sure how," Dorian explained.

"I know how," Royal said finally in whisper. She looked up at him. "I'll get to Sochi tomorrow. If you agree to form a truce with my family and my sons
crime family…
" She shook her head in disgust and cringed. "Then I can persuade the two of them to let bygones be bygones, and we all walk away from this with no more to do with each other."

"I'm not sure such a truce would hold. Your outlook seems more optimistic than things really work."