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Home / Stormy Night Publications Newsletter / Sweet Depravity: A Dark Mafia Romance by Zoe Blake – Extended Preview

Sweet Depravity: A Dark Mafia Romance by Zoe Blake – Extended Preview

This was beyond wrong. A catastrophic mistake. I knew with my matte red lipstick and leopard print fuck-me pumps I gave off the vibe that I did this sort of thing all the time, but that was definitely not the case. I hadn’t had a boyfriend since freshman year in college, and it had been ages since I had even had sex. Truth be told, the men in my life were boring. Predictable. And worse, they were mediocre, at best, in bed.

I wasn’t all that different from my roommate, Emma. She dreamed of book boyfriends. I dreamed of actor boyfriends. I didn’t want Mr. Darcy from Pride and Prejudice. I wanted Spike from Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Jax from Sons of Anarchy, Dean from Supernatural, Sebastian from Cruel Intentions. That was my curse. I lusted after the arrogant alpha asshole who confidently sauntered into a room and owned the women in it. The man who knew precisely what a woman wanted and gave it to her—over and over again till she screamed for mercy or in ecstasy.

Fortunately, I was intelligent enough to know that those types of men made the worst kinds of boyfriends. They would bring only heartbreak. Maybe that was part of their appeal, the dancing with danger, buying your pleasure now with the pain that would come later. That was probably why I didn’t date all that much. Well, that and the fact that this type of man didn’t exist beyond the glowing screen of a television.

Or at least I thought they didn’t.

Sure, Emma seemed to find a man like that in Dimitri, but I figured he was a unicorn. A big, sexy, masculine unicorn, but still a unicorn. Men like that weren’t supposed to exist in the actual world. So who the fuck would have guessed there’d be two badass, arrogant, hot-as-hell Russian men running around Chicago?

 Vaska stared down at me and slowly unbuttoned his shirt. I forgot to breathe. Dear God. The man’s chest was sculpted rock covered in ink. As he shrugged out of his shirt, I saw two eight-pointed stars in vivid blood red, gold, and black on the front of each shoulder. I remembered from that book Emma got to investigate Dimitri’s tattoos that two eight-pointed stars denoted a high-ranking thief or master criminal.

Damn. Was it wrong that he’d just gotten even sexier? Of course, it was wrong. It was crazy, psychotic wrong. This wasn’t a movie, for fuck’s sake. There was no guarantee of a happy ending. For all I knew, I was about to either have the best sex of my life or get murdered literally tied to my bed.

He turned his back and crossed the room. His whole back was covered in ink as well. As I focused in to decipher the mosaic of bright images, he did something unforgivable. He unzipped his pants, letting them and the rest of his clothing fall to the floor. The man had the greatest, tightest ass I’d ever seen. He reached into the suit jacket that was slung over my vanity stool and pulled out some small gold foil packets.

Vaska turned and walked back to the bed. And that was when my late panic set in.

I shook my head violently from side to side as I kicked with my legs, trying to get to a seated position so I could work on the binds around my wrists. “No! No! Stop! We can’t do this.”

The man was enormous. There was no way he was putting that thing into my body. Nope.

Vaska tossed the Magnum condoms onto the bed and reached down to stroke his shaft. “Don’t worry, malyshka, I’ll make sure you’re wet enough to take every inch.”

He placed a knee on the bed and reached for me. I kicked at his hand. My fight only amused him. Climbing fully onto the bed, he easily captured my flailing legs and tore my panties off. Pressing his cock near my entrance, he forced my legs over his shoulders.

I stilled.

He grinned. “That’s more like it.”

I squeezed my eyes shut and braced for the lethal pounding I was sure I was about to endure. The bed squeaked slightly as he shifted. Instead of the hard, painful thrust of his cock, I felt the warmth of his mouth. My eyes flew open to see his head nestled between my thighs, his arms wrapped securely around the base of my legs, holding me open.

He met my gaze and winked. Opening his mouth, his tongue stretched out to flick at my clit. Without volition, a throaty groan left my body. His tongue continued to swirl and tease every nerve. Each time I tried to buck my hips, Vaska held me still with his firm grip.

My hands balled into fists as I gripped the sheets and threw my head back, giving in to the delicious torment of his mouth. The man wasn’t just going through the motions, like most men. He was a wizard. It was like he knew what I wanted, what I needed, before I did. He read every sigh, every shimmy, every held breath and used it against me. Not once did I have to say higher, or softer, or a little to the left, or not so fast. He was perfectly in tune. And damn, the man didn’t just lick; he feasted.

My back arched as the pressure built. Just then he pushed a single finger inside of me as he increased the speed of his tongue. I came so hard, I forgot to breathe. Stars burst behind my eyelids as the sound of rushing waves filled my ears. My body hung limp from the silk tie binds.

He rubbed my cunt in soothing circles with four fingers and whispered to me in Russian, “Ne volnuysya, detka. YA tol’ko nachinayu.”

I slowly opened my eyes and stared at him in wonder, as I tried to catch my breath. “What?” I gasped.

This time he pushed two fingers inside of me, before saying, “I said, do not worry, baby. I’m just getting started.”

Without warning, he flipped me over. I had to push up onto my knees to ease the increased pressure of the twisted tie around my wrists. I had expected him to position himself on his knees behind me, but instead, he lay on his back and his head went between my thighs.

I cried out in alarm. “No. You can’t. It’s too sensitive now.” I had never even tried to come twice in a row because my clit was always too sensitive after the first orgasm. I honestly didn’t think it would even be possible.

His warm breath tickled the inside of my thigh as he chuckled. “Vy zakonchili, kogda ya govoryu, chto vy zakonchili. YA khochu bol’she etoy sladkoy pizdy.”

I did not know what he was saying, but I was certain it was dirty. Before I could ask, his mouth was back on me and I had to bite my pillow to keep from screaming. I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he was right. As I recovered from my second mind-blowing orgasm, his warm skin brushed the backs of my thighs.

I tensed.

His left hand caressed my back as his right rubbed my pussy. He pushed two fingers inside, then a third.

“Ow! Wait!”

“Shhh. This is happening, krasotka. Let me prepare you.”

His fingers shifted in and out of my body, opening me as his other hand continued to rub my back. Still, I couldn’t stop the rising panic. He was too big. I pulled at my binds. “Untie me.”


The distinctive sound of a foil wrapper being torn open sounded out like an alarm.

“Please, I don’t want to be tied up anymore.”

“No,” came his same unrelenting reply.

My voice became high-pitched and strained. “You can’t say no when I’m saying no.”

“Yes, I can.”

With a cry of frustration, I yanked on the silk tie, which only tightened it further around my wrists, causing angry red marks. Before I could argue again, my body rocked forward as a sharp sting of pain radiated from my right ass cheek.

He had spanked me!

The bastard had actually spanked me.

Casting an outraged look over my shoulder, I raged, “How dare you?”

He spanked me again.

“Stop that!”

He raised his arm. My eyes widened. “Don’t you dar—”

I wasn’t even able to finish my threat. He spanked me a third time. By now, my skin was on fire. Hot needle pricks ran over my ass and down my thighs. The worst part was it seemed to heighten the pleasurable soreness I was already feeling between my legs.

“Are you going to be a good girl and obey me, or do I keep spanking you?”

Under normal circumstances, the sexual threat of that sentence would be scary, but when it was uttered in a heavy Russian accent by a huge Russian criminal who currently had me tied to a bed, it was terrifying.

“Please,” I begged, although I wasn’t sure what for.

He leaned down to whisper in my ear, “Tell me you’re going to be my good girl.” His free hand reached under my body to caress my breast before pinching my nipple. The sharp stab of pain was another warning.

“Yes,” I breathed. “I’ll be your good girl.”

His knuckles brushed my inner thigh as he fisted his cock and rubbed the heavy bulbous head through my slit. I couldn’t contain a whimper.

Vaska kissed my shoulder. “Shhh, krasotka. This first time will hurt, but I promise it will be worth it.”

He pushed the head into my tight entrance.

I fisted my hands, driving my nails into my palms. “Oh, God!”

His arm wrapped around my waist, holding me in place as he pushed inside. His thick cock stretched and strained my inner muscles. With his free hand, he caressed my breast as he whispered soothing words in Russian I couldn’t understand.

He pushed in another few inches.

A fine sheen of sweat broke out on my back as I strained to accept him. “Please. You’re too big. It hurts.”

He ignored my pleas and pushed in another few inches. My body would have buckled forward if not for the binds around my wrists and his grip on my hip. After an eternity of him slowly thrusting forward inch by inch, I felt the pressure of his hips against my ass. He was fully seated inside of me. I tried to concentrate on my breathing, taking deep breaths in and out to control the overwhelming feeling of pressure and fullness. It felt like someone had shoved one of those novelty dildos you know couldn’t possibly fit inside a woman’s body… inside of me.

He stopped moving, letting me adjust to the feel of him. I could hear his harsh breathing and the flexing and tightening of his fingers on my hip, as if he was trying to keep control.

Gradually, my body opened and relaxed around his length.

After another moment, I could feel the return of a delicious sensation between my legs. I pulled my hips slightly forward, feeling him slide out a few inches, and then pressed back into his hips. I rocked slowly back and forth like this several times, each time only letting him slide out an inch or two. Finally, I felt confident enough to shift my hips forward enough to allow several inches of his shaft to slide out, then I pushed back with more force than before.

Vaska groaned but stayed perfectly still.

Then I crossed a line.

I repeated the motion, but this time I boldly shimmied my ass against his abdomen.

The moment I did so, I knew I was in trouble.

All the air left the room in a rush.

The atmosphere crackled with renewed sexual tension.

He fisted his hand into my hair and wrenched my head back. Biting my earlobe, he growled, “That was just what I was waiting for.”

Oh, God.

Vaska took complete control.

He pulled out and thrust in deep, pounding into my body again and again, every thrust more powerful than the last. His painful grip on my hair held me in place as he rocked his hips into me. Several times he added to the pleasurable pain by spanking my ass with each rhythmic push of his shaft.

He consumed me. There wasn’t an inch of my body that didn’t feel his touch, his brand, in some way. He was right; this wasn’t sex, not even close. This was fucking. My willpower was gone. As I climaxed for the third time, I screamed. I didn’t have to turn to know he was smirking. I had submitted and given him precisely what he wanted, right down to my orgasmic scream.

Releasing my hair, he drove into me several more times before reaching his own completion. I collapsed forward onto the pillows, my arms stretched above my head. The heat of his skin scorched my back as he reached over me to untie my wrists. The bed shifted as he rose. He draped a soft blanket over me. I kept my eyes closed as I listened to him dress.

Outside there was a clamor of raised voices and slamming of car doors. He peeked through the curtains and nodded. “My crew is here to install the security system.”

For a moment, I was confused, until I remembered his real purpose for even being here this morning. It was funny how three unbelievable orgasms from a completely hot-as-fuck stranger could really scramble a girl’s brain.

I guessed now he would leave. At least I wouldn’t be surprised if he did. That was how these things always ended in the movies. The guy got what he wanted and then he’d split. I was sure I should be feeling some kind of Catholic guilt bullshit or regret, and maybe I would once I felt human again. For now, I was a satisfied puddle of melted bones.

Dressed again in his trousers and shirt, he held his suit jacket as he leaned over and brushed the hair from my face. He gave me a kiss on the forehead.

Here it comes. The promise to call. A promise he would have no intention of fulfilling.

Without saying a word, he left.

That bastard!

The least he could have done was lie to me.

I waited to hear the closing of the front door, but it never came. A moment later he returned to the bedroom holding my phone. “Unlock it.”


“Your phone, unlock it.”


He sighed. “Mary, you are going to need to work on this nasty habit you have of questioning my orders. I’m being patient and forgiving now, but that will not last.”

This is him being patient?

What would him being impatient look like?

With him staring down at me with those dark, inscrutable eyes, I didn’t have a choice. I typed in zero, one, one, nine, Buffy’s birthday, and unlocked the phone.

He took it from me and typed something. The phone in his pocket pinged.

He handed my phone back to me and shrugged into his suit jacket. As he buttoned it, he said, “Whatever plans you have this evening, cancel them. I’ll be here at eight.”

My mouth fell open. So it was like that? “Just because I let you… fuck me… doesn’t mean I’ll let you do it again. This was a one-time thing.”

Vaska ran his knuckles down my cheek. “You didn’t let me do anything. I took what I wanted and yes, it will happen again… and again.”

My cheeks burned at the truth of his implication. Before I could object, he turned to leave the room but not before calling over his shoulder, “Be ready at eight and put some clothes on. If I find out you were half naked in front of my men, there will be hell to pay tonight.”

Springing up onto my knees, uncaring for my naked state, I threw the bed pillows at his retreating back.

I heard his laughter till the front door closed.


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