Found

are you going to do about it, huh?" She stuck out her chin.
He released her. "Get on the bed, Brat," he ordered, pointing to it. "Now."
"You cannot boss me around." But she did as she was told, scurrying on hands and knees to the head, her bare butt exposed. She flipped onto her back, mattress bouncing, and crossed her arms under her breasts, her body stiff as a board. "Now what, ass?"
"Now." He shrugged his gun and holster off his shoulders, laying them on the dresser. "I teach you respect." He slowly unbuttoned his shirt, exposing a tanned, muscled chest.
"And." He pulled back his belt buckle. "I deliver on a promise." His pants dropped. White boxers. Powerful legs covered with dark hair. Black socks.
"Respect is earned, not taught." Her mouth went dry. There were silver nicks along his flat stomach. Another scar on his shoulder. He was a man who had known violence.
But he wouldn't hurt her. She didn't know why she knew that. She simply did.
"Then I will earn it." He crawled over the bedspread toward her. She wiggled backward.
"Don't move." He gave another order as he circled her ankle.
"You are a very bossy man." His hands felt so good as he stroked up her legs. "Do you know that?"
"Yes, my fiancee may have mentioned it." He followed with his lips. "Once or twice." He reached her sensitive inner thigh. She clamped her legs shut. "Open." She hesitated for a second before obeying. "And be still."
How could she be still when he was... His fingers reached... Her toes curled. Then, his mouth, his wicked, bossy mouth. "Nikky!" She grasped a fistful of his hair.
He chuckled. "That is still attached to my head, Brat." She loosened her hold.
She grabbed onto the mattress, instead. "Stop, Nikky, it's too much. I can't. It..." But he didn't listen. He never listened. That damn fiance of hers. He licked, his tongue rough, kissed, his lips tender, nipped, his lip-covered teeth applying the right amount of pressure.
The combination, it was too, too much. "No, please, no!" She twisted, it was unbearable.
Then, he covered that one spot, sucking long and hard. "Nikky!" She arched, right off the bed, her world exploding.
What had he done to her? That ass. "Nikky, Nikky, Nikky," she sighed as she collapsed.
Those last Nikky's sounded dazed. As they should be. Her first orgasm. Nik grinned, pleased with himself, stroking through her dampened hair. Frizzy there too, like the hair on her head. He moved up her body, to better see her face. Her cheeks were flushed, a trail of tears from her closed eyes. The covers around her were in delightful disarray. She was a passionate woman, his fiancee. "Do you respect me now, Brat?"
One eye opened. "I'm beginning to appreciate you more."
He laughed. She wouldn't give him anything he hadn't earned fair and square. He liked that.
He caressed her small breasts, so soft and responsive. He liked her. She touched him, also, gently at first, then more aggressively, lower and lower. "Would you like to show that appreciation?" he asked as he pulled down his boxers.
Tatyana spun around in his arms. She was naked. He was naked. And snoring, sprawled out, his arm thrown over her waist. "Are you going to sleep all day?" It was nearly seven a.m.
He groaned, lifted his head from the pillow, looked at the alarm clock. "Let me sleep, Brat."
Buried his face in the pillow again.
He was wasting precious moments of living, idiot man. She slipped out from under him, padding around the hotel room naked. There it was. She picked up the pen and paper, returned to the bed, leaned back, and used his bare ass as a head rest. "Do you have health insurance?" Did crime families have health insurance?
Something mumbled. Sounded like yes.
"I'll need a copy of it." If it wasn't adequate, she'd top it up. Plus, she'd require the information to check him in. She stroked his hairy legs. He couldn't pass for a Tatyana. No, not at all. "Do you have any medical conditions paramedics should know about?"
He placed her pillow over his head. "Sleep deprived."
That must be a no. He did look, and Tatyana remembered last night, her toes curling, act like a very healthy man. "What's your blood type?"
"B Negative." He groaned, rolling onto his back, an arm covering his eyes. Dislodging Tatyana. She snuggled into his shoulder, instead.
B Negative. "That's fairly rare." She bit her lip and he was a big guy, he'd need a lot of blood.
"I'm O Negative." A universal donor. "In a pinch, I could donate." She had before. Not that it helped.
"Units set aside," he mumbled.
Very smart. Tatyana nodded, more optimistic. "I'll need that information, too." She tapped the pen against her lips, thinking. This was a rare opportunity, knowing her next victim so well. Maybe, just maybe. "I don't want you to die, Nikky."
He placed his arm around her. "I'm not going to die."
She thought about that. "When death comes..."
"We'll work something out. Death and I are old friends."
"You need some new friends." She hated death. Hated it. Death took away everyone she cared for and she was sick of it. "Do you have a will?"
His body tensed. "No."
He didn't think one was needed. She hoped he was correct. "You should have one. Everyone needs a will." To ensure loved ones got a piece of them, so they wouldn't be forgotten.
"I don't." He sat up, bouncing her off of him again, and swung his legs over the side of the bed. "Because I don't own a damn thing." He didn't own anything? But he gave the impression of wealth. He walked to the bathroom. "Order breakfast, Brat. Tell them I'll have the regular." He shut the door.
He didn't own a damn thing. Nik still fumed over that, hours later, as he moved through the casino. Everything he had was doled out to him by Grandfather. Like a damn dog, waiting for his bowl to be filled.
A dog on a short lease. What he