Chapter 3 NIKOLAI

Gwen, my little hellcat, stands in a thin, skin-tight black dress adorned with sparkles in the bay window of the little two-bedroom house she and her grandmother Rose live in.

I am supposed to be here at 8, but I can’t help myself from getting here early when all I could think about was her ass in that sparkly emerald green lingerie set with fishnets and neck-breaking heels.

She looked magnificent as she stood in an alley, with a cracked beer bottle in her hand and mouth too sharp for her own good.

If she talked to me the way she spoke to half of the guys in that club, I’d have her writhing over my knee, her perfect bottom stained with my handprint as she begged for me to fill that filthy mouth of hers with my cock. I smile at the image of her big hazel eyes, almost brimming with tears, so turned on and frustrated with me that she curses my name, and I, in turn, punish her for it.

I bet she’s a brat. Fuck. I adjust myself in my slacks as I stare at her, continuing to mess with her curly hair. She keeps fluffing her black curls, spilling down her back in spirals. They are more airy and free than they were at the club, swaying along her spine as she smiles at herself in the mirror. I keep flexing my hand in and out, waiting to thread my fingers in her hair and pull her into me.

I’ve wanted to run my hands along the curve of her waist, grip her hips, and make her feel what she has done to me since I saw her dancing. She had every man’s eyes on her. Every man was fixing their cocks in their pants. Every man under her siren song, like the little minx she is.

She could be a modern-day Cleopatra, have men killing themselves just for a moment in her presence, and I could be her Caesar, but then I heard our modern-day Cleo speak, and she spoke like a warrior.

Men fawned over her, and she kept them where they belonged, kissing at her feet, so of course, when I saw that fucker try to rape her, I took his pinky. Fuck, I would have taken his life if she asked, but Gwen is a merciful queen.

I look at the time again: 7:55, which is early but a respectable early. I slide out of my Rolls Royce, adjust my suit jacket, and grab the bouquet of pink roses because Gwen texted me that I better not be fucking unoriginal and bring red. Bringing pink was a minor submission, anticipating when I had her on her knees begging for me.

I knock on the peeling white door. A pair of wide eyes and the slick smirk of an old lady greet me.

“Oh my.” She fans her face, her eyes roaming over my body as I flash my most parent-friendly smile. “You must be Nikolai.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I say, kissing Nana Rose’s hand. “And you must be Nana Rose?”

I wink at her, and a warm smile spreads on her wrinkled face. A gasp leaves her lips. “Oh.” She points at me with her other hand. “You’re good. I bet you’re a charmer.”

“Not as much as your granddaughter.” I rise, smiling as she turns her body to the side, letting me into the small living area.

“Well, she got it from me!” Nana Rose claps. “Back in the day, I was a brick house. That’s old lady talk for I was the shit.”

“I bet you were,” I laugh as Nana Rose’s slippers click past me.

“Oh, I got the pictures to prove it! But make yourself at home while I see what’s taking her so long.” I nod, looking around the living room, cast in the soft glow of an aged lamp in the corner. From down the hallway, I hear Nana Rose call out, “Gwen, that man is fine, and he is waiting! Don’t keep good-looking waiting!”

I look around, my curiosity about Gwen only growing as I take in more of her house. A pink and cream flower couch and a worn wooden coffee table adorned with colorful delicate lace doily sit in the room’s center.

I roam over to a weathered brown bookshelf peeling tan against the far wall, its shelves filled with an eclectic mix of novels and a family photo of Gwen as a child sitting on the lap of a smiling man with a salt n’ pepper mustache. I pick up the image, focusing on Gwen’s wide, toothy smile.

“Well, shoot. If I knew you were going to go snooping, I would have told Nana to leave you outside.” Gwen’s snort breaks me out of the trance of the photo.

I return the frame and remark, “Consequences for keeping me waiting.” When I turn around, her hazel eyes are hooded, her pink lips are glossed and slightly apart in a smile, and her hands are holding a small clutch in front of her.

She whispers, “Are there always consequences with you?”

Nana Rose comes back in, a slight squeal leaving her lips. “You brought flowers!” I hand them to Nana Rose as Gwen peeks at the bouquet with a smug smile.

“Pink?” Gwen questions.

“You said no red,” I counter.

“And they are beautiful!” Nana Rose smacks Gwen’s arm, narrowing her eyes at her before smiling at me. “I am going to put these in water.”

As Nana Rose walks away, Gwen steps forward. The scent of coconuts and jasmine invades my senses. I swallow dryly, my eyes roaming over her now that she is in front of me. “Are you going to answer my question?” I arch my eyebrow, looking down at her. “You said that your snooping was the consequence for keeping you waiting, so I asked, are there always consequences with you?”

“Only when earned.” I wink. She gives me a mischievous smirk, taking another step forward.

“Did I earn one?” she whispers breathlessly.

“I don’t know, can you follow directions?” Gwen raises an eyebrow, challenging me.

“ You can follow directions; thank you for the pink roses.” Her lips pop on the letter p in pink as she wiggles her eyebrows.

“I follow directions very well,” I purr, pushing a curl behind her ear, watching the blush rise to her cheeks. “That’s why I rarely have consequences, but the question was: can you follow directions?”

She shrugs, giving me her faux innocent eyes. “Depends on the direction.” Oh, so my little hell cat wants to play a game of chicken.

I lick my lips. “Spin for me.”

“What?” Her eyes widen, and she looks around the room.

“You said you would dance for me privately.” I lean over to whisper in her ear, “So do it.”

“I am not dancing for you with my nana in the other room.” Her voice and eyes are firm as she pushes back, but when she places her right hand on her hip, my smugness reappears.

“I am not asking for my dance yet.” I bend over so I am at eye-level with the scowl she dawns on her lips. “Just a taste, or don’t tell me,” I almost brush my lips against hers, whispering, “you’re a brat who can’t take directions.”

Gwen’s nostrils flare, but her eyes dart to the doorway her grandmother walked down in excitement. She takes a small breath, and I lean back, watching as she crosses one of her strappy black heels in front of the other and quickly turns. When she looks at me again, she pulls her lips into a smug grin. “There. Are you happy?”

“No.” Her brows furrow, but before she can protest, I whisper, “Slower.”

“Nikolai!” she huffs.

“Call me Nik.” I take a step back to see her whole body easily. “And I said slower.”

Gwen bites her lip nervously, looking at the doorway again, but when her eyes land on me, they sparkle with determination. She crosses her heel over the other again, turning slowly, and I smirk, admiring how beautiful she looks tonight.

She’s stunning in that tight strapless sparkle long dress, the slight slit in the back teasing at what lies beneath. Her big black curls tumble down her back, framing her face in a way that makes me want to mess them up. Those pink glossy lips, smoky eyes—everything about her is intoxicating.

Her eyes cautiously make contact with mine again, and she crosses her arms behind her back, accentuating her chest, as she sways from side to side. “So?”

“Fuck, you are gorgeous, Kotik.” She blushes, looking away from me. I lean in again, my breath fluttering over the shell of her ear. “Tonight is going to be fun.”