Hey, Daddy (Semyonov Bratva Book 2)

I used to think bulls were crazy for chasing red flags, yet here I am.

—Nastya’s secret thoughts

NASTYA

“Can you give me a ride back to my car?” I asked my brother.

We were at Milena’s coffee shop, which was within walking distance of my new apartment.

Last night, Auden, Maven’s husband, had called to tell her that Lola was sick and asking for her. Instead of dropping me off at my car, she’d gone home, and I’d gotten a ride home from Auden’s brother, Atlas.

Atlas worked at Dallas Police Department and happened to be driving right past my apartment complex.

Though, Atlas hadn’t been happy about my choice of apartments, and had barely concealed his disgust when he helped me move eighteen packages into my apartment that looked like it could be rushed at any moment.

He’d left, but not before giving me a lecture.

But it was the morning now, and I really needed my freakin’ ice maker!

Though, I was unsure how I was getting that big ass box out of my car and up two flights of stairs…

But first, coffee.

It just so happened that my big brother was visiting Milena’s coffee shop, and happened to have a capable vehicle that could get me to where I needed to go.

“Sure,” he said as he jerked his head toward the front door. “Be good today, Milena!”

Milena flipped him off. “As long as you don’t fire any more of my employees, I’ll be fine!”

I laughed.

Shasha did do that, but only because Milena was easy to be taken advantage of, and she had a soft heart.

Shasha didn’t.

He couldn’t care less who he needed to fire for my sister.

I actually think he sometimes liked it.

He’d fired three of them in the last few years.

“Where is your car located?” he inquired.

I grimaced. “Costco.”

“Fuck.” He sighed. “You know I hate that fucking area.”

I knew he did.

I also knew that I loved it.

Shopping was the best thing in the world.

“Drop me off at the Whataburger, and I’ll get some food there before heading to my car,” I suggested.

It was really freakin’ early, and I had plenty of time. Though, I really wanted to get my ice maker.

“I don’t know what you see in that place,” he muttered as he started driving.

I gave him a hurt look and said, “Honey butter biscuits.”

“You’ll die of a heart attack before the age of forty if you keep eating it every day for breakfast. Plus, there are too many carbs in that choice,” he supplied helpfully.

“But I’ll die happy,” I ignored the carbs comment. “And sometimes, I don’t always get Whataburger.”

“Sometimes you get Chick-Fil-A,” he snorted. “Like that’s any better, though.”

“I’ll have you know I had Panera Bread last week.”

“Only because you had a mystery shopper thing there,” he pointed out. “And still, I’m fairly sure that I heard you coming back with one of those cinnamon crunch bagels and that sweet-ass cream cheese. And a cinnamon roll.”

“You’re right, I did have a mystery shopper thing there.” I shook my head. “It’s hella expensive, though. I’m sorry, but you can’t convince me that they can’t make a profit off a bagel for a dollar.”

“They probably could, but this is a country that has businesses that want to make a profit. Not give shit away. So yeah, they’re going to up the price of a bagel that you could’ve made at home for pennies. Because if you wanted to make it at home, you would’ve made it at home,” he grumbled.

I began to ignore him so that I didn’t have to hear him go on his spiel about the United States being a capitalist paradise. And it being the “American Dream.”

Logically, I knew.

But I volunteered enough that I saw what the economy was doing to us. I knew that there were people out there struggling to make a living and barely treading water.

I’d never experienced it myself.

I grew up in an influential family that never wanted for anything.

When I finally cut myself off from my dad, I immediately found a job that would allow me to do what I wanted for a living without having to pay to do what I loved—shop.

I’d lucked out.

First I’d become an Amazon Reviewer that got paid and got sent free stuff.

I’d then applied to become a mystery shopper and got paid to go into people’s businesses and buy things.

Further, I’d started up a blog at just the right time, and people followed me for the “must haves” and “it” items.

I even got paid for content now.

Not that I was what I would consider an “influencer.”

Truthfully, I didn’t like to get behind a camera and never would.

The notoriety of having your baby sister go missing and having your dad the leader of the Russian Bratva made it almost impossible to stay anonymous.

And, to be completely honest, I didn’t want to be in the spotlight.

I wanted to live my life unimpeded by the challenges that my brothers’ and father’s life choices afforded me.

“Busy today,” Shasha said as he pulled into the Whataburger.

“It’s Wednesday,” I pointed out. “Today is the day that all the old men meet and bring all their old, restored cars. You’d probably like going out and admiring them.”

“Hmm,” he said as he came to a stop right in front of the door that led inside. “You need your bodyguard.”

I rolled my eyes. “I already told you, I’m not doing it.”noveldrama

His lips thinned as he grumbled something under his breath.

I got out, blew him a kiss, and headed inside.

He watched me go with a glower on his face, and I nearly laughed.

I walked inside and waved at all the old men, then made a quick turn to head to the bathroom first before ordering.

I’d just finished up and was walking out of the bathroom when I ran face first into a hard, muscular body.

“Ooomph,” I grumbled as I was almost forced right back into the bathroom.

The door kept me from doing that, though, and the hands belonging to the muscular body shot out and caught me up before I could ping pong between the two hard surfaces.

“Walk of shame?” a deep, husky voice asked.

I shivered as my gaze lifted to see…

The man from the bar.

I allowed my eyes to study what I could—the man was holding on to my hips after all.

Bending over sideways, I checked out his jeans and boots, then looked back at him. “Me, walk of shame? No. I stayed with my sister last night and didn’t have a change of clothes. What about you? You’re still in the same thing, too.”

His lips turned up at the corner. “Work.”

He didn’t elaborate, which gave me ample time to feel the obvious protrusion that was tenting the front of his jeans where he was pressed against me.

I felt the solid length of him against my belly, and the answering tingle between my legs answered his attention.

“Work,” I breathed, unable to stop myself from pressing my hands against his chest and feeling the muscular bulges there.

Damn, the man was in shape.

Logically, I’d known that from seeing him at that bar, but seeing and feeling were two completely different things.

“Swear to God,” I heard him mutter. “You keep feeling me up, I’m backing us up into the bathroom and fucking you in the handicap stall.”

I blinked, but the petting didn’t stop.

It went lower—as low as his arms still firmly planted at my hips would allow.

I couldn’t control my actions.

I’d wondered last night, and now that this opportunity was upon me…

“Fuck it,” he grumbled. “What’s one more bad decision?”

Before I could think about how stupid it was to fuck some literal stranger in a Whataburger men’s bathroom in broad daylight, I was pressed against the wall right inside the bathroom door.

Hell, he didn’t even make it to a stall.

His mouth was on mine before I could remember how to breathe, and I was climbing him like a tree a few moments later.

His body leaned into mine, pressing his hard cock exactly where I throbbed the most.

Our kiss was frenzied.

Two adults losing control while neither one cared about how stupid and crazy they were being.

I’m not sure who moved first, but the kiss went from one hundred to one thousand in the blink of an eye when we both started fumbling below the waist.

He dropped me only long enough for my panties to come off and his pants to come undone.

Seconds after that, I was back in the air, and his hard cock was pressed against my entrance.

He only paused long enough to awkwardly slip a condom over his cock.

The head of his cock pressed against my entrance, and my hand went out to the side, and the stupid automatic hand dryer turned on, startling us both.

“Fuck,” he said as he shoved upward in reaction.

Endowed.

Adjective.

Naturally possessing a certain quality, talent, physical feature or other advantage.

The man—God, I didn’t even know his freakin’ name—was certainly possessing a certain physical feature that most men did not.

I wasn’t a virgin by any means.

Sure, I could only count them on two hands. But of the six men that I’d slept with, only one of them had come close to this man’s size.

Maybe it was because he was older.

Whatever it was, the man was fucking stacked.

And I was all there for it.

All. There.

The only saving grace of our very public display of affection was the fact that the blow dryer was still going when he filled me all the way with his cock.

My scream was drowned out by the hand dryer, and eventually by his mouth, when he slammed it down on my own.

Then he was fucking me.

Rough and hard.

His hands gripped my ass, one finger so damn close to my asshole that he kept brushing it with each thrust of his hips.

My pussy clenched at the unfamiliar touch, and I nearly closed my eyes in embarrassment with how good it felt.

But there was something about the way his eyes were staring into mine that let me know he didn’t want me to close them. He wanted me to know exactly who it was that was fucking me.

I held his gaze as he fucked me thoroughly.

So hard.

Each of his thrusts felt like they were going straight to my soul.

I’d never really understood what the point of a “hard fuck” was.

I’d never really liked it.

Could never find a way to get into it.

But apparently, I’d just been doing that hard fucking with the wrong man.

This one, the one that I didn’t know the name of, definitely had the “hard fuck” down to a science.

He knew exactly what he was doing and was doing it very well.

If only I had a name…

“No names?” I gasped as I leaned forward and nipped his lip.

He groaned before squeezing my ass a bit tighter.

“Not this time, Mama,” he growled.

My heart fluttered hard in my chest, but I didn’t argue.

We both knew what this was.

A very one-time thing.

“You gonna give it to me yet, Mama?” he asked.

Mama.

I kind of liked the “mama” thing.

It made me feel…cherished.

Fuck.

“What?” I breathed, unable to think past what he was asking.

“Your cum,” he whispered. “Coat my cock with it. I want it.”

And so I gave it to him.

I came.

I mean, there was no other choice, really.

I had to give it to him because he wanted it, and who was I to deny the man anything at this point?

I came. Loudly.

It was the most life altering feeling I’d ever had the pleasure of experiencing.

Which happened to be when the bathroom door opened.

“Hey, man. Get a fuckin’ room,” the man said as he went to the opposite side of the room to pee.

I closed my eyes as I tried to find even a smidgeon of embarrassment and found none because my orgasm was ongoing. It felt like it was never going to end.

The man’s mouth found mine once again, then he was groaning into it as his thrusts grew

The toilet flushed.

The door closed.

And still, I was coming.

Only when we were both panting into each other’s mouths a few long seconds later did I finally open my eyes and realize what I’d done.

Holy shit.

Was that what it was all about?

Was that what I’d been missing my entire life?

Did I want to go back to normal after that?

I didn’t think so.

Which was why I decided to ask for his name again.

“Still no name?” I teased, hoping he’d give it to me.

“No, mama.” He tucked himself away and tossed the used condom into the trash can.

I pulled out a few paper towels and covered it up before saying, “Okay, Daddy.”

His eyes flamed. “Don’t…”

The bathroom door opened again, and an old man this time shuffled his way inside, completely oblivious to the two of us.

I slipped out before he could disappoint me by opening his mouth again.

I slipped into my own bathroom and cleaned up, only realizing when I was finished using the toilet that I’d left my panties on the floor in the men’s bathroom.

Fuck.

After washing my hands, I headed out to place my order, very aware of the draft that I could feel on my bare ass.

Luckily, the dress was long enough that there would be no accidental slips.

When I ordered my food, I took a surreptitious look around and didn’t spot the man anywhere.

Breathing a sigh of relief, I moved to the other side of the building and laid a few napkins down on the booth before taking my seat.

When I did, my gaze automatically went to the window and to the parking lot beyond.

That was when I realized something.

Something was going on in the parking lot beyond the Whataburger, and that something was big.

And centered on my car.

I pulled out my phone and placed the only call that I would make in a situation like this.

“Hey,” I said to my brother when he answered, my heart pounding. “Can you come back?”

He sighed. “What happened?”

I didn’t really have a good way to say it but…

“My car is surrounded by police tape that says ‘DO NOT CROSS’ and there are multiple cop cars surrounding it. Also, there are five police officers standing at the edge talking.” I felt my stomach roil.

One of those police officers being the man I’d just fucked in the Whataburger bathroom…

“I’ll be right there.” He sounded much less annoyed now. “I’m calling my lawyer, too. Don’t do a fucking thing until I get there.”

I didn’t have to wait long.

I was halfway through my honey butter biscuit when Shasha came through the doors.

He walked directly to me and placed his hand on my shoulder.

I’d just opened my mouth to ask him “what now” when another person came from behind him and stopped to where she could see out the window beyond my table.

Shasha and the woman studied the scene in front of them.

“Who’s that?” the lawyer asked. “The guy in the jeans and the black t-shirt with the combat boots on. He looks to be the one in charge.”

My head whipped around and sure enough, there was a man fitting that description out there.

Shasha turned to glance in the direction that Elianora Bates was looking and said, “That’s Detective Haze Hopkins. Stay the fuck away from him.”

My belly fluttered.

So I finally had a full name to go with the face.

Haze Hopkins.

And he was a detective.

Of course he was.

I took the last bite of my biscuit and threw my trash away.

When I was done, Shasha and Elianora Bates walked with me toward the crowd.

We were noticed within seconds.

But it didn’t come as a surprise that the first man to notice us was the detective.

“What’s going on?” I asked quietly.