Anya
My wedding dress is the most spectacularly stunning thing that I have ever seen in my life. It’s cut off the shoulders, with a heart-shaped neckline. The bodice is corseted and fit snug just below my waist. The white lace is thick over my breasts to keep things modest, but it turns sheerer to accentuate the flowers embroidered through the body and the top layer of the skirt that explodes out from the bottom of the fitted torso, and out in a ballroom style over my legs. However, it’s the daring slit up the side where my left leg is visible that I love the most. Just enough to flash Nikolai a hint of leg, get him all riled up before the ceremony actually starts. Just the way that I like him.
My hair is done up in a low bun at the nape of my neck, loose waves have been pulled throughout to soften the lines of my face with chandelier-style earrings. I wear no other jewelry besides my engagement ring. My veil is fastened into my bun, heavy, but I’m managing well enough. My heels are short, but I could have been wearing platforms and I still would not be anywhere near Nikolai’s height. The very inner layer of the skirts is a soft pastel pink made of satin that feels divine as it brushes against my bare legs. I didn’t want to wear all white, it just didn’t feel right, all things considered. It is just enough.
I run my hands down the bodice. I keep waiting for the nerves to settle in, but they don’t. I don’t have any regrets; I don’t have cold feet but I always thought that somehow it was supposed to settle in right about now. We have invited limited guests to our wedding, mostly just his hired men and a couple of my friends from Vegas who just assume that Nikolai is some rich oil tycoon, or a sugar daddy, or some foreign model. They have different, crazy theories that they run past me every now and then and I always make sure to agree to each and every one. They are mostly just here so that my side of the lawn isn’t totally empty. The only person that I really care about is the man waiting for me at the end of it all.
In just a few more minutes, it’s going to be official. I will be Anya Volkovich.
I can’t get the smile off of my face.
It feels like closure and a new beginning all at once. Ending a chapter, or rather closing a whole book on the life of when I was Anya Griffith and letting her go. I am writing a new story as Anya Volkovich. My new thick lashes brush against the tops of my cheeks as I close my eyes and breathe deeply to let everything really sink in.
When I open my eyes again, Nikolai is standing in the doorway, looking at me looking at myself in the full-length mirror. “Damnit!” I gasp and nearly knock the mirror over as I jerk away from the sight. “Get out of here!”
“You cannot tell me what to do.” Nikolai rolls his eyes, confidently strolling into the room, one hand in his pocket. He pops the knuckles on his other hand with his fingers, one at a time as he advances on me. “Tell me something, Anya, when the priest gets to the part of the ceremony where he says that you are to honor and obey…what are you going to say?”
“It’s bad luck to see the bride before the wedding! I’m in my dress and everything!” I back away from him, and snatch a decorative couch cushion from the nearest couch to pull in front of my body, not that it’s doing any good.
“Bad luck, Pah.” Nikolai spits at the floor to banish my mention of bad luck as he snatches the pillow from my hand and throws it forcefully back to the couch. “We have had quite enough bad luck for one lifetime, don’t you think?”
His fingers encircle my wrist and he yanks me forcefully to him, and I crash into his chest. Both hands flatten out over the crisp white fabric of his oxford shirt as he smirks at me.
“See, what I am thinking is that you have pulled some trick…or attempted to bribe the poor priest out of saying that part. Do you think that you will not have to obey me?” He lowers his face closer to mine. “Being my wife only means that I shall have more tools at my disposal than ever to get you to obey my every desire.”
I scoff. “Bribery? Me?”
“You made the priest cry…he came to me to express some reservations about your purity.” His smirk spreads into a full-out grin. “I admit, I did laugh when he implied that you were pure in any way. Do not worry, I have informed him of all of the ways that I have personally corrupted you. Now we might have to have Ivan marry us.”
He looks far too proud of himself as he walks me backward to the nearest wall. I feel my shoulders collide solidly with the wall, and logically I should move. I should try to get away because I’m far too easily trapped by him like this.
“You sound way too proud of yourself. Besides, Ivan cannot marry us — he’s walking me down the aisle.”
“He can do both.” Nikolai shrugs.
“No, he can’t. Get out of here right now, and go apologize to that poor holy man.”
“Soon,” he says ominously, and his nose brushes mine. I can’t even pretend to be mad that he’s snuck in here. “I have corruption to attend to first.”
Nikolai nearly kisses my teeth I’m smiling so big. “You still haven’t told me just what I’m supposed to expect from a mafia wedding anyway.” I giggle.
Nikolai answers while trailing kisses down the side of my neck, focusing on that spot where my neck meets my clavicle that makes my knees buckle and my toes curl, until I’m clinging to him breathlessly.
“It is much the same as any other wedding…just a lot more vodka and tattoos.”
He pauses for a moment, his hand grabbing mine so he can brush his thumb over the now healed tattoo covering my entire hand and the majority of my arm. Some of the ink I had gotten to match Nikolai’s after we had signed our first property documents together. Others we had gotten in promise to one another, and some were to commemorate the union of our families. Then I had gotten away with connecting the rest of them.
“You will fit right in now, do not worry there.”
“I’m not worried,” I answer. Apart from the half sleeve I have managed to acquire over the past few months, I have also added another much smaller tattoo to my collection. A small set of tally marks on the back of my hip to commemorate the years that my mother has been dead. I entered into this strange relationship unblemished and now I’ve got enough ink to pass for any of the guests in attendance. I love it. Fitting into Nikolai’s world has been so much easier than I ever imagined that it could be. Not even just because Nikolai threatened to maim anybody who gave me any shit either.
Those few men that came from my father’s old empire vowed their loyalty to me easily and proved it to Nikolai. The dissonance caused by Elias and my father left a lot of people in search of guidance, needing somebody to look up to. Nikolai is that person, a natural-born leader.
One who serves nobody but me.
Nikolai’s lips resume their trail down my neck, his teeth closing over my sweet spot, and I gasp. He’s going to mark me before we even have a chance to walk down the aisle if he keeps that up. “Enough,” I gasp, pushing at his chest. He doesn’t budge. “There will be plenty of time for that later,” I laugh. “Forever, really, you’re supposed to wait until tonight at least!”
“I am not a patient man, Anya, you know this — besides, I’m hungry now — and you look divine.”
Desire pulsates through me, sending fire to every piece of me. He looks up at me darkly and lowers himself to one knee in front of me. I can’t deny him anything when he looks at me like this. His calloused hand wraps around my ankle, scraping his tough skin up the softness of my calf, and further, until he cups his hand behind my knee and bends it up to rest on his shoulder. The slit in my skirt comes in just as handy as I thought that it might, as his hands trace the muscles in my thighs and up to my hips; where he finds no opposition for him to remove, no fabric to get between us other than the layers of skirt. His smile turns positively feral, and I lose all desire to fight him. Not when I know what is coming.
His handsome head disappears from my view, the layers of fluffy skirt blocking the beautiful display as he places a kiss on the inside of my knee, chasing the soft sensation away with the sharp sting of his teeth. Again, and again as he travels his way up the inside of my thigh. I have nothing to hold onto, no leverage offered by the walls around me as I teeter on one leg, wholly at his mercy. I try to gather some of the skirts up in my hands, but it is of no use.
I end up with fistfuls of fabric, and I cling to them as he kisses the strained muscle where my thigh meets my hips.
He teases a trail toward my center, his tongue paying special attention to anywhere but where I want him most. My head falls heavily back to the wall, and I desperately wish that I could tangle my hands up into his hair and force him to my center.
I grunt in frustration as he deliberately bites the inside of my other thigh, and I can feel his short chuff of laughter against my skin — and then he parts me with his tongue and I nearly fall.
I wobble on my leg, and sag further into the wall so that I can push my hips as close to his face as possible, his wonderful tongue exploring, delving deeper with delicious sensations that curl my toes. He pushes his tongue inside of me, replacing it with two fingers that slip easily inside of me as he finally shifts upward to my overly needy clit.
“There, yes, please,” I pant as he flicks his tongue over me.
It’s not enough, I need more…I want everything. He’s moving too slow and it’s driving me crazy. The small jolts of pleasure have me jerking awkwardly. “Nikolai, please.” I try to press his face forward using my skirts, but I can’t get quite enough pressure. “Please!” I beg, and he finally relents. He swirls his tongue around my center, and a pleased moan tears its way from my throat. Any lingering tension in my body melts away.
He does such wonderfully sinful things with his tongue. His fingers pump inside of me, finding an easy rhythm that I want him to quickly replace with my favorite appendage of his.
I’m close, so close — I can feel the heat building in my core and spreading the warmth through to my fingers and toes. My vision starts to blur and I’m putty in his hands. I start to slide downward; my legs can’t hold me up. I’m about to buckle, lost in sensation when Nikolai catches me. He knows my body almost better than I know it myself. He’s pushed me to limits and beyond them countless times now.
Warm, tattooed hands grab me by my thighs and I’m sliding back up the wall as he deftly pushes his way between my thighs until I’m pinned between the bulk of him and the wall. My thighs stretch comfortably to accommodate him as he undoes the front of his black slacks.
My eyes cross as he pushes up inside of me. I can taste myself on his fingers as he covers my mouth with his tattoo-covered hand.
“Careful, or they are going to hear you,” Nikolai warns.
I can’t find it within me to care, not now. I grasp his upper arms, feeling the muscle tense under my holds as his forehead falls to my shoulder. I love feeling the way his arms and back move. Such a handsome, strong man and he’s all mine. I can’t stop my breathless smile as he drives into me, over and over — consumed by need and lust. Mine. More than anything I have ever thought was mine in my life, Nikolai is mine and I am his.
Husband and Wife, leaders of a powerful Bratva empire.
Nikolai’s teeth close over my shoulder, a growl of self-control building as his pace becomes erratic. “I guess you like my dress?” I pant, Nikolai nods into my shoulder, and bites me again — I yelp in surprise which only spurns him harder as we chase climax.
“You look beautiful,” he agrees, his voice dark and sensual. “You just needed a final touch, something new.” he winks and if he didn’t feel so fucking good, I might roll my eyes, but the friction is building and I feel like I’m floating.
“There,” I mutter, barely even a word on my lips as my eyes shut as my orgasm rips through me. All I can do is hold on until the end of the waves. Each time with my soon-to-be husband is better than the last. Nikolai kisses me on the corner of my mouth, and I capture his lip between my teeth, greedily holding on as he cums inside me. Damned primal bastard always has to mark his ownership of me. I stopped minding a long, long time ago.
He kisses me slow, and soft. His lips pressed against mine with a languid brush of his tongue over my fuller bottom lip, letting the last waves of our orgasm rock through us both before he leaves me, and slowly lowers me back down to my feet. I almost tell him not to. My legs feel like jelly.
“Clean yourself up,” Nikolai tucks himself away and straightens his shirt, tucking the tails back into the slacks with a wink. “We have a wedding to get to.”
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