Mafia Bad Boys: The Ismailovs Book 4
She lied to escape her brutal family.
She married him because he was her only escape.
Did she exchange their brutality for his cage?
Because now that he has her, he’s never letting her go.
He’ll keep her lying mouth busy until her body speaks the truth.
She. Is. His.
Love games—War games…
Is there any difference?
Treasured by the Bratva Prince is book 4 immediately follows the events in book 3, Tamed by the Bratva Prince. Although this fast-paced short book is a standalone it is best enjoyed after the preceding books. Treasured is a safe, steamy, light mafia romance with some dark elements.
AmazonExcerpt from Chapter 1
Maxim Ismailov clawed his hand through the woman’s long, blonde curls while she cleaned her tonsils with his cock. Ramming her face down to the hilt buried in his pubic hair. He groaned when she looked at him with watery eyes, holding his long gaze before smiling. A woman who was honest enough to admit she loved sucking cock as much as he enjoyed getting it sucked. He might keep her around for a bit until he tired of her. But then he’d have to recall her name. What was it again, Connie, Lonnie, Ronnie, Bonnie? God help him, it wasn’t Donnie, was it?
She vibrated her vocal cords like a rattler, shaking its rattle to draw his attention back. Shit, his mind had wandered again. She was sucking his cock like she got paid to do it. Which she was. Her energy and enthusiasm should have held his attention—something no one else had done lately. Surprise him. Captivate him. Fucking, interest him. Hummingbird, a perfect name for her, hummed her cords along his dick again, eliciting his groan. Hell, Hummingbird might have had a chance.
He pulled and pushed, grinding in and out of her mouth’s wet glove. He slid his chair back and shoved her face deeper into his lap. Her legs curled beside his office desk as she crawled to keep up. Maxim hadn’t indulged in the fairer sex for almost six months. When he’d cut Elaine, his ex-girlfriend, loose, he’d severed the relationship as soon as she declared her love. She didn’t mean it, and he didn’t either. The only difference between them, was that she thought lying about loving him would push the relationship further. He knew better. Either she was lying to him or herself. Money and power, walking in on the arm of the most feared man in Chicago, was what she loved.
Maxim didn’t mind. Ismailovs were feared, hated, or lusted after; that’s what it meant to be the son of Akim Ismailov. He only resented it when someone lied about it.
Shit, Connie used her teeth to scrape lightly down the sword stabbing down her throat. A move that would have earned her an automatic ejection if she hadn’t executed the move perfectly. Demanding Max’s attention—again.
He slammed her face down, burying it in his crotch as punishment. Holding her there while he fucked her throat. This time when he allowed her to raise her head, her teary eyes had swapped playful with repentant. She paid her penance with a firm suck-and-tug on his tip that had him spouting over her face and throat.
Lonnie sat back on her heels and licked her lips. Her long fingers scooped strings of ejaculate to feed herself–definitely, a woman who enjoyed sex. Next time, he’d rent a room. Max’s dick hardened again as she continued feeding herself with one hand and pinching her nipples with another, while giving him a saucy wink that made him shudder. Where had Dex found her? Was she an agency girl?
“What’s your name, sweetheart?”
She pouted her lip. Obviously disappointed that Maxim didn’t remember. Her scarlet red lip pouted before she answered.
The shrill buzz of his office phone interrupted. He raised a finger to silence her. If Caroline interrupted his stress-relief break, it was urgent.
“What happened?” Maxim greeted the caller. He’d suspected that it was family, but Sanyet was a surprise. First, because, technically, he was still on his honeymoon. Second because, Sanyet rarely delivered terrible news. He didn’t send messages about a problem. He just went out and solved it. Unfortunately, or not, Sanyet solved problems with a bullet.
“Get your ass to Vegas. The jet is waiting for you at O’hare. Don’t worry about clothes. Everything you need will be here.”
“How serious? Deadly serious?”
“No, you won’t need to bring anything other than a wedding ring. Congratulations, brother. You’re getting married.”
Maxim’s eyes dropped to the woman stoking his deflating dick. “What the fuck? I’m not getting married. Is this about the Persian? She was supposed to marry Venedikt.”
Ronnie stopped her stroking at the word marriage. As if cold water had poured over her. The hell if he didn’t feel the same.
“Change of batter, now you’re on deck. Kiss your stress relief goodbye and get your ass down here. We’ll update you then.” The line went dead. Shit. What the fuck?
He stood up, tucked, and zipped. He’d never removed his jacket or shirt. So, she looked demolished, while he looked freed. Good job, Bonnie.
Maxim helped her stand, pulled up her dress, and walked her to the door. Ignoring the way her feet dragged and her lip poked out. Closing her out of his mind when he closed the door. He couldn’t worry about her feelings. Apparently, he was getting married.
