Dmitriyev Bratva

He's not a man who asks. He's a man who takes. My father is the mayor of Las Vegas, but Mikhail Dmitriyev didn't care. Not when he led me through a posh resort blindfolded before ravaging me in his opulent suite, or when he hunted me down and broke into my apartment so he could strip me naked and spank my bare ass until he was sure I knew better than to keep secrets from him ever again. But as I'm shoved up against the wall, his hands roaming over my body as if he owns it already, I'm not just worried about what this ruthless Russian mafia boss is going to do to me.

I was his obsession. Now I'm his completely. His breath is hot on my bare skin. His eyes rove over every inch of me as his muscled body looms over mine, pinning me helplessly to the bed. When his teeth bite down where he knows it will get my attention the most, I fight to keep from giving him the satisfaction of screaming. Or coming. But the man about to ravage me brutally isn't some crazed stalker. At least not tonight.