63. Nat

Max has kept his distance all week, just like he promised that first evening. At the time, I wasn't sure if I wanted him to, but in hindsight, it helped me clarify some things.

When Mickey told me Max was a member of the Russian mafia, I was shocked. Beyond shocked, in fact.

The mafia are criminals. They deal in drugs, weapons, and people. Uriov is in the mafia, and he's about the worst possible example of a human being. Anyone who makes money from abusing women and children is a fucking psychopath. I don't think Mayor Kolanski is mafia, but he does have close ties to Uriov.

So if Max is in the mafia, surely he's no better than them?

But I'm not thinking about whether Max is a dangerous criminal. Not while he shifts so I'm lying half under him on the reclining chair. It's way too small for the both of us, but his hands and mouth are on me and all I can do is feel.

"I've missed you," he tells me as he pushes up the loose tee I'm wearing. There's a sharp exhale when he discovers I'm wearing a pale blue bra from a set I found in the closet. The cups are made from delicate lace and sheer gauze, my hard nipples clearly visible.

When I found the energy to check out the closet, I found it was full of clothes, all in my size. A mix of casual wear, a few cute summer dresses, and everything else I might need in the current climate. When I thanked Greta, she shook her head and told me it was all Max's doing.

He licks my nipple through the lace and I moan. Loudly.

"It makes me happy to see you wearing the lingerie I bought," he says with a satisfied smile. There's a hint of ownership in that statement but I don't pull him up on it. Honestly, I like knowing he chose the clothing I'm wearing.

Rick bought me clothes, too, but they were things I'd never have chosen for myself, mostly unflattering styles designed to hide my figure. Everything Max bought me is stylish and fits me perfectly, a mix of comfortable and sexy.

"Are you wearing the matching panties?" he asks.

I nod and he quickly pulls my cotton pants down my thighs.

"Fuck, you look good enough to eat, malyshka."

There's a massive bulge in his tailored pants as he sits back and admires me in the lingerie he's bought for me. Never have I felt so desirable. Max doesn't see thick thighs or a rounded belly. In his eyes, I am a beautiful woman with soft curves designed to cushion his hard muscles.

How can a man who makes me feel so amazing be evil?

While my head tells me he's dangerous and I need to stay the fuck away from him, my heart disagrees. My heart knows it's too late. I've already fallen for my dark mafia gangster. Nothing he does will make me walk away now.

"Thank you," I tell him as he hovers over me, his lips so close to mine I can almost taste him.

A small wrinkle forms across his brow. "For what, malyshka?"

"For everything… bringing me here, keeping me safe, the clothes…"

Emotion hits me hard. Maybe it's a delayed reaction to the trauma. Tears prick my eyes and I'm worried I might cry. This is supposed to be a sexy moment, not a tearful moment. Max must think I'm an idiot who can't keep a lid on her emotions.

To my surprise, instead of sitting up and looking at me like I'm unhinged, he wipes a stray tear away and smiles softly.

"Natalya…" I love the way he says my name; like it's the sexiest word in the English language. "You don't need to thank me. Everything I have is yours, if you want it. It's my job to protect you, provide for you. I'd give you the whole world on a plate if I could."

"But that's…" My brain struggles to make sense of what he's saying. "Insane!"

He frowns again. "No, it isn't. I love you, malyshka. Nearly losing you…" Emotions - pain, anguish, rage - flutter across his handsome face, and for a moment, he closes his eyes, shutting me out.

Then he opens his eyes again and I fall into them. "I love you, Natalya. I've never felt like this about any woman before. You mean everything to me and I'm not letting you go."

"You love me?" Rick told me he loved me. At the time, I was delirious with joy, but I soon learned his words were poisonous lies. He never loved me. He wanted to control me, own me, and, ultimately, destroy me.

My heart tells me Max is not like Rick. He doesn't want to control and own me. His only goal is to protect me. I'm safe with him. Cherished and cared for.

Since the night we met, he's protected me. He intervened and made sure Rick never hurt me again, even though I was a stranger. Then, when we met all over again, he once more stepped in when I needed help.

"Yes, Natalya, I love you." He doesn't allow me to say it back, which I'm grateful for because I'm not sure I'm ready to admit how I feel about him. It's too soon and my emotions are way too unstable.

His mouth meets mine and he kisses me like he's starving and I'm his last meal. I moan when he swipes his tongue across the seam of my lips, pushing inside and taking what he wants. Then he moves down, leaving a trail of kisses across my collarbone and the swell of my breasts.

His cock is hard and insistent against my thigh but there's no rushing him, even if I am desperate for more. My pretty lace bra is removed and tossed aside. A hot, wet mouth finds my breasts, feasting on my hard nipples. With each slow suck of his lips, I fall a little deeper under his spell and the rest of the world fades away.

Max's seductive mouth trails kisses lower, over my soft belly, and down between my thighs. He strokes the damp silk, purring with pleasure at how wet and ready for him I am.

Small moans and whimpers punctuate the night air. I'm so needy it's embarrassing, but he just chuckles.

"Patience, malyshka."

He pulls my panties down my trembling thighs and drops them to the side. For a moment, he sits back and stares at my pussy. It's disconcerting. Is there something wrong with it? I haven't done any lady-scaping for a week. God, do I look a mess down there?

My confidence seeps away and I try to close my legs, but he forces them back open. His gaze snaps up and he frowns.

"Why are you trying to hide your pretty pussy from me, malyshka?"

"It's… I don't know…" Thank god it's dark and he can't see me blushing.

"Baby, never hide from me. I love every part of you. This perfect pink pussy? I own that." He leans over and licks me from my taint up to my clit. "These gorgeous tits? They're all mine." I moan a little when he moves over my body and sucks a nipple deep into his mouth before releasing it with a loving lick. "And now I'm going to show you how much I love you, malyshka."

All my insecurities are forgotten when he spears my aching pussy with his tongue, drinking down my arousal like it's the finest champagne. From his muffled groans, he's loving this almost as much as me.

Every swipe of his tongue pushes me higher. I writhe beneath him, grinding against his face, searching for the friction I need. Scratchy stubble adds delicious bite but it isn't enough.

"Max, please!" This is torture, I need to come. But the bastard just laughs, teasing me just enough to keep me on the edge, but not enough to let me topple over into bliss.

I wriggle a bit more and he pins me down more firmly. Minutes pass and I'm almost crying from being edged to the point of insanity. Just as I'm about to beg, he wraps his mouth over my clit, pushes three fingers inside my sopping channel, and sucks.

My orgasm hits hard and my whole body pulses with pleasure. Max moves and before I can formulate any kind of thought, sensible or otherwise, he surges inside me, stretching me with his thick cock.

"Oh fuck, malyshka, I'm not going to last long, you feel too fucking good!" My thighs wrap around his waist and the recliner creaks under our combined weight. With each slow drag in and out, my body thrums with delicious aftershocks.

The stress and pain of the last few days is vanquished, obliterated by pleasure. I'm certain now this was Max's goal when he found me out here this evening. He probably knows I've been like a zombie since he brought me here.

Greta probably gives him updates every evening. She's clearly loyal to him, and she's been watching me like an overprotective mama bear.

"Fuck me, Max, make me forget," I whisper in his ear as he slides over my sweat-slicked body, holding his weight on his forearms.

"I got you, malyshka," he promises. "Always."

The words I want to say are there, right at the forefront of my mind, but I'm not ready to release them into the universe. Instead, I show him how I feel with small kisses along his jaw, loving touches, and the way my body accepts his with zero hesitation.

He's mine and I am his.

Always.

It might be the worst decision ever, but I've fallen in love with the devil. Even if he's still holding back some vital pieces of himself.