Free Protected by a Mobster 2: A Russian Mafia Romance (Volsky Mafia) by Jacee Macguire Page A

in Russian but I don’t mind translating if you want to pick for yourself.”
    “I trust you. Go ahead. Surprise me. Can I ask you something?”
    “Sure. I’m an open book.”
    “What’s Dolce Vita?”
    As soon as the words leave my mouth, his body goes stiff. I immediately regret the question. He glances around the room as if making sure nobody is close enough to hear his response.
    “Where did you hear about that? Never mind. It doesn’t matter. I own a number of businesses, and Dolce Vita is one of them. It’s a special club that isn’t for everyone. It’s a bit too wild for some people.”
    “Too wild? How exactly can a club be too wild?” I ask as a waitress approaches our table.
    I sit quietly as Ruslan orders our lunch and a bottle of Russian Standard. After the woman leaves, he explains that Dolce Vita is a BDSM club. I’m shocked and extremely curious at the same time. He tells me he acquired the club from an Italian man that owed him money and couldn’t pay the debt.
    After some prodding he scooted his chair closer to mine and explained in some detail exactly what happens in the club. I could feel my cheeks burn with each description. What shocked me the most was the throbbing between my thighs as he talked so openly, without shame, about things so private and naughty.
    “So you... you like this stuff too then?” I asked, feeling shy and embarrassed as his sea-green eyes looked deep into mine.
    A cold chill swept down the length of my spine, followed by a warm flood of heat between my thighs. Ruslan’s hand settled on my thigh just as I clenched them together to hold my desire at bay. It didn’t help. I don’t think there’s a single thing in the world that would keep my body from reacting to his touch or the sound of his voice. It’s as if my body knows him and recognizes him in ways I can’t put words to.
    “It is something I tend to enjoy from time to time.”
    His hand slid along my thigh, moving higher and higher. I licked my suddenly dry lips, noticing how his eyes followed the movement. He leaned in, his breath mingling with mine, then his lips were on mine. A smooth velvety warmth followed as his tongue worked along the seam of my lips, flicking against them, begging for entrance.
    A small moan escaped me, offering him the chance to delve his tongue deep into my mouth, searching and tasting me. I melted against his body like butter when his fingers pressed against my heated core. Even with the denim as a barrier to his touch, I felt it.
    Breaking the kiss, I gasp for breath hoping it would settle my thoughts before I said or did something stupid. God have mercy on me for what I feel I have to say. I might regret it later, but in this moment I just want to be near him in every way a man and woman can be. “Will you take me there? I want to try it... with you.”
    “We’ll work up to that, moya koroleva. In time you will be ready. I think you will enjoy the journey, and the pleasure it will bring you.”
    Lunch only got better after that. The food was divine. Whatever the crap was my father’s chefs made was far from authentic. The Solianka, a spicy and sour soup, was followed by Golubtshy, a stuffed cabbage roll. Both were amazing and quiet flavorful. We ended our long lunch, sharing the most decadent dessert. Ruslan told me it was called Praga cake. It was a wonderfully sweet layer cake, and a perfect end to our lunch date.
    From there we walked through the park, discussing our childhoods and experiences we had growing up. It was nice to see Ruslan shift from his Bratva boss persona and into the gentleman that I met at the diner. I knew they were one in the same, but seeing him like this was breathtaking. When he talked about growing up in Russian and his family there, he was so animated.
    We laughed and joked around most of the afternoon until the real world blew it all to hell in a hand basket. It was just nice to be in a bubble, just the two of us, without interruptions. If only