The music played and there was chaos all around her; pieces to clothing lines had disappeared, and it was craziness. Rayanna looked at Carrie wide-eyed, and Carrie burst out laughing. “I owe you a steak dinner, or whatever you want. Tonight at LaCrueage with all the big shots,” she said.
Rayanna smiled. “You got it.” She then noticed a man in a suit walking through the area with another man.
“Oh brother, they’re already starting,” Carry said to her.
“Who is he?”
“I don’t know. You’ll see a few different men, big shots with deep pockets, walking through here picking out which model they intend on sweeping off their feet and maybe getting in their beds tonight,” Carrie said, sounding disgusted.
“I can’t find the black bra. I need it. Who fucking took it?” one model yelled out, ranting.
“We’ll find it, calm down,” Carrie said and rolled her eyes. Rayanna hid her chuckle and went about trying to gather the next set of dresses for the runway. As she was looking through and placing the gowns next to each woman, she thought about how cool this actually was, and how she wished she were taller than five foot five. She would so love to strut her stuff down the runway.
“Is that mine?” one model asked her.
“Yes it is, and these go with it.”
“Jesus, I can’t believe how high these heels are. I mean, how the hell are we supposed to do this all night? That runway is extra long.”
“I don’t know how you all do it, but somehow you pull through. You’re going to look sexy hot in that number. Think about that and not your feet hurting,” Rayanna said to her, and the model smiled.
“Thanks, Rayanna,” she said, then continued on. As the evening progressed, it seemed to get crazy a bit and then die down again. Just as she was about to tell Carrie how this wasn’t so bad, a bit of chaos erupted around the bend.
“She passed out. Oh God, what are we going to do now?” one of Jaque Bennire’s assistants, C.C. said to them.
“I don’t know. I think we need to find someone to fit in that dress and send them out there,” the woman stated.
“Great idea, but all the models have a dress or outfit ready for them. The next set is outerwear; there’s no way they can do both,” Carrie said, and then a few others came around and started looking at Rayanna.
“What?” she said.
“Oh God. You think?” Carrie said to Jaque’s assistant C.C..
“The top and the ass will be super tight, making it more sexy than what Jaque had anticipated, but I think it will do well,” C.C. said.
“Rayanna, how do you feel about stiletto heels?” Carry asked, and they started to walk her toward a curtain and began putting her hair up in some fancy style as another woman did her makeup.
“What in God’s name?” she said, and then it hit her.
“No. You can’t be serious?” she said to them.
“Dead serious. I will owe you my life, Rayanna. My life,” Carrie said.
“No. No way. No can do. I am not…”
Her eyes locked onto one very tall, handsome, serious-looking man and three others he was with. He emitted power, importance, and as his gaze swept over her body, she felt it everywhere. Annoyance pooled in her belly.
“Take a hike, buddy, nothing’s for sale around here,” she stated and then saw the shocked expression on Carrie’s face. Another woman pulled her toward the curtain.
“You need to get the dress on, and then I need to grab the accessories. Here are the heels. Can you handle this?” the woman asked her as Rayanna looked at the heels. They were high, not that she’d never worn such high heels before, but add in her nerves and the chaos of being unprepared for this…
Carrie clutched her shoulder.
“Yanna, please,” she begged of her, calling her by her nickname.
“Grr,” Rayanna growled. Carrie chuckled, then took her arm and whispered to her.
“I can’t believe you just mouthed off to that man. Holy shit, Rayanna.”
“What? Who is he?” she asked. She could see through the side mirror that he stood there waiting, arms at his sides, and the men next to him looked just as serious.
“A man no one ever speaks back to, never mind even approaches unless he initiates.”
“What?” she asked and stepped into the dress.
“Shit. Earrings. You need earrings.”
Rayanna grabbed Carrie’s arm before she left.
“Who is he?”
“Russian mob boss Dmitri Sanclare.”
Rayanna’s mouth gaped open, and her heart hammered inside of her chest. She had such a big mouth. Jesus, why did she even say something to him? I’m going to have a stroke.
That accent, his hands, the controlling tone, the dominant attitude, and how he played her body like an instrument were too much to ignore and fight. She couldn’t believe she stood here, hands on the bed, legs spread, bent over the mattress while Dmitri Sanclare undressed behind her and prepared to claim her. She could feel her legs shaking and her heart pounding, and when she closed her eyes, flashbacks of Puento hit her vision.
“No,” she whispered. Then he smoothed his hands along her skin, and his thick, long cock tapped against her thigh. He stroked her hair from her face.
“What is it, Yanna? What do you fear?” he asked her, binding her hair in his fist as he kissed softly along her skin. She tilted her head back and he licked along her neck. “What do you need?” he asked her.
“Take it away, Dmitri. Take away the memories of the pain. Of his touch, and the images imbedded in my head. Please, Dmitri.”
“Fuck,” he whispered, and she gasped as he turned her around and kissed her tenderly from the corner of her mouth to the center, then to the other corner, and along her cheek and jaw before he lifted her up with one arm around her waist and lowered her to her back. It seemed his idea of taking her for the first time from behind had been changed by her words, her begging for him to make her forget. He slid his hands along her arms and pressed them above her head. Her breasts pushed forward only for him to suckle and then tug on the nipples.
“Oh, Dmitri. Dmitri.” She felt the tip of his cock at her entrance. He held her gaze as he remained restraining her wrists above her head. That fierce expression…cold black eyes gazed over her body and then back into her eyes. The bold black tattoos along his shoulders and chest were wild and like nothing she ever had seen before. The words were not in English—perhaps they were Russian or Ukrainian. She didn’t know, but they looked ancient and as though they weren’t done in a tattoo parlor, but perhaps some prison cell. She had heard stories about the Russian and Ukrainian mobsters and their violent lives and what got them into the criminal business. She saw the scars on his chest, a long thick one with raised red skin along his ribs. A knife wound? Two additional holes under his pectoral muscles. Gunshot wounds? She gulped, imagining what this man had possibly gone through in his life. The hardness, the near-death experiences, and the enemies he had.
He started to slide his cock between her folds. He didn’t say a word, just stared at her, clenched his teeth as if he didn’t want to pound into her, yet something made her want just that. “Please, Dmitri. I want it too. I need it.”
“Then you’ll get it.” He thrust into her all the way, and she came. Just like that, with his very thick, hard cock thrusting into her, she lubricated the additional strokes, moaned and grunted from the depth of them. In and out he stroked.
She saw the cords of muscles in his forearm above her head while he gripped both wrists with one hand and held them there. His other hand he used to cup her breast, then grip her shoulder as he thrust his hips harder so that his cock penetrated deeper into her pussy. She lost her breath. He was lethal in every way. He would always be in control. Always a boss, a master, a powerhouse that both aroused her and intimidated her. She creamed some more, his control of her body and the thickness of his cock too much to handle.
When he released her arms, she kept them above her head. Something told her that Dmitri would like it.
“That’s right. You’re mine.” He gripped her hips and moved faster, thrust deeper into her body. When he lowered and kissed her, she couldn’t resist running her fingers through his hair and then caressing along the thick cords of muscle on his forearms, arms, and shoulders. She countered his thrusts and then he rolled to his back, making her take position above him. “Ride me. Take from me what you need to put him out of your mind forever.” She rocked her hips, gripped onto his shoulders until she felt the next orgasm building.
She closed her eyes and thrust harder, faster over him, feeling his cock thicken in her tight channel. Never like this. Never had she felt anything so powerful and electrifying.