Page 21 of Nurse for the Russian Mafia

“Are you kidding?” I cry. “Yes, a thousand—no, a gazzlion times yes!”

He slides the ring onto my finger and then leaps to his feet, pulling me to him. I find his lips in the embrace and we kiss, our tongues dancing, the nerves sending buzzing sensations all around me.

I place my hands on his chest and give him a shove, guiding him to the armchair.

“My queen,” he says, eyes glinting with lust and happiness.

“He won’t be home for a while, right?” I say.

“It’s not that,” he says. “It’s you. It’s how you’re taking control. It’s so fucking attractive.”

I feel myself standing up straighter and a warm glow spreading across my cheeks. Then I throw myself at him, and we both fall onto the chair. I stradle him and grind my sex against his pants, feeling his manhood already rock hard and huge for me. He braces my back, sliding his hands under my dress and unhooking my bra.

“I need to free those milk giving breasts,” he growls. “I need to suck on them. Soon, you’ll be giving life to children, Samantha. Tell me. Tell me how badly you want to take my seed.”

“So bad,” I cry, as he tears my dress down and frees my breasts. As he takes one in his mouth, I start to moan. “I want you to fuck me and make me pregnant, Alexander. I need it. I need to be pregnant with our children. I need to be your wife, and care for our family.”

“It makes me so hard when you talk like that,” he growls, pushing my breasts together. He sucks one and then the other, making my nipples red. “You’re the sexiest, most voluptuous woman I’ve ever laid eyes on. I can still taste you on my lips, beautiful, and it makes me so fucking horny.”

“Oh, God,” I whisper. “I need you Alexander. I want it so bad. I’m so wet for you.” I cringe, listening to myself. “Do I sound like a slut when I talk like that?”

“Hush,” he snaps, leaning up and kissing me passionately. “You’ll never be a slut to me. With me, you can be whatever you want.”

“Then I want you, now,” I cry, leaning up and fiddling with his pants. I grab his manhood and guide it through the slit of his pants. Then I fiddle with my panties, but it’s difficult to get them—

“Let me help,” he roars, grabbing my thighs and lifting me over his head, like I weigh about five pounds. He brings his teeth to my underwear and bites them, and then snaps them away. “There. Much better.”

“I can’t believe you just did that.”

“What about this?”

He lowers me onto his length, not even having to reach down to guide himself inside of me. He is pointing straight up, as hard and certain as our love, and I slide down with a sigh. I brace my hands on his shoulders and bounce up and down, guiding the tempo of our lovemaking.

He stares at my bouncing breasts like a man possessed, and then caresses them, looking up into my eyes. Finally, as we’re both close, as the heat envelops us and threatens to blow the roof off the house, he grabs me and tosses me onto the couch. He leaps atop me, diving deep again in one slick thrust.

“Make me yours,” I moan, bouncing up and down on him. “Forever.”

“Beg for my seed.” He bites my shoulder softly, then harder. “Beg for me to cover your womb in my hot wet seed. Beg.”

“Please!” I cry. “Please come deep inside me. Cover my womb in your seed!”

I hardly listen to myself. I can’t spend long pondering my words when his engorged fleshy pike is buried so deep inside of me. My lips burn with anticipation and then, in one sudden moment, something snaps wetly inside of me.

I squirt onto his throbbing cock, my juices sliding down and over his balls.

“Fuck,” he snarls. “I can’t hold it—”

“Please,” I beg. “Please, please, please …”

“Ahhh!” he roars like a Viking berserker entering battle.

Afterward, we lie together, Alexander holding me tightly. He kisses my cheek and strokes his hands through my hair. I let a big, cheesy grin spread across my face.

I’ve spent so long wondering if I’d ever find a place to belong, if I’d ever be pretty enough, or interesting enough, or funny enough for a man to love me.

And now I know. I do deserve all the things other women do. This isn’t a trick.

“I love you so much,” I whisper.

“I love you, my queen,” he says.

Epilogue

One Year Later

Alexander

I stalk through the dog rescue center and hide behind a pillar. I don’t want her to see me, not yet. I press up against the pillar and try to make myself small, which, for somebody who’s six foot five, is admittedly difficult. But I’m used to operating under the radar, and I think I manage to stay hidden as she enters the room.

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