The Russian Savage: Enemy of the Bratva by Rie Warren is a Dark Mafia Romance. It's book 2 in the Krasnov Brothers Series, it's Available Now and Free on Kindle Unlimited so what are you waiting for go get your copy today! Keep reading for an excerpt & giveaway!
Title: The Russian Savage:
(Enemy of the Bratva)
Series: Krasnov Brothers #2
Author: Rie Warren
Genre: Dark Mafia Romance
Release: August 3, 2020
I am her enemy. And I’m going to make her mine. She might never forgive me, but I don’t care.
Saving the daughter of an enemy was not my intention but, now that I have her, I intend to keep her. Nothing is going to stop me from using this mafia heiress as I see fit, not even her personal vendetta that pits her family against the Bratva.
Kidnapping the beautiful Italian princess is in my best interests even if it’s not good for her. Because I have wicked secrets of my own, which I intend to play out on her luscious body.
She will be my prized possession come hell, high water, or a vicious new war.
The Russian Savage is Arkady’s story and is book two in the Krasnov Brothers series. No cliffhangers. No cheating. Includes vivid, steamy scenes. Can be read as a standalone.
Arkady killed with the same hands that he used to kindle such uncontrollable lust from me. If only my body understood what my brain knew indefinitely.
Inside, Arkady shed his jacket before he clasped a hand around my elbow. He guided me upstairs and into his bedroom. Spinning me in front of him, he began tugging down the hidden zipper at the back of my dress.
What do you think you’re doing? Never before had a man handled me as if he owned the rights to my body. I clutched the dress to my front as he deftly lowered the zipper to the base of my spine.
He trailed a lone fingertip down the center of my back, creating a pattern of chills across my skin. Suddenly my mind clouded, and I was spun right back into the arousal he’d so quickly ignited at the nightclub.
Both his hands settled on my shoulders while mine fell away from the dress. I must check the dressing on your thigh. His deep silken voice made my breath leave in a whoosh.
Easing the garment from my arms, he snagged the straps of my bra too. You don’t need to take off my bra to do that. The breathless quality of my reprimand made my words entirely unconvincing.
But I want to. And, as the dress hung at my wrists, he nimbly flicked open the bra’s catch. My breasts bounced free then the dress swirled down to lay in a puddle around my feet.
As if in the throes of a spell, I started to step from the pile of fabric as well as from my stilettoes but Arkady stopped me. As he faced me, his gaze washed over me with smoldering male hunger.
Leave the heels on. I like them. He took my hand, lacing his fingers slowly through mine. Heat coursed through me from a pulsing point in my pussy.
He helped me step from the dress and sat me on the edge of the bed. Stay. I didn’t move and I barely breathed. He entered the bathroom, tugging off his shirt along the way.
Bronzed muscles flexed as he walked, and I unconsciously arched toward him even though he wasn’t looking. I grew embarrassingly wet between my legs as he stalked back with swabs and bandages in his hand.
His cock pushed out prominently at the front of his trousers. He got to his knees in front of me, and I watched the top of his head as he bent to set his first aid items on the floor.
His calloused hands gripping my ankles, he pressed my legs open. I sat there, swimming in the darkest, most illicit lust, my feet arching within the classy stilettoes, my legs spread obscenely wide, wearing only a pair of diminutive satin panties.
Inside, Arkady shed his jacket before he clasped a hand around my elbow. He guided me upstairs and into his bedroom. Spinning me in front of him, he began tugging down the hidden zipper at the back of my dress.
What do you think you’re doing? Never before had a man handled me as if he owned the rights to my body. I clutched the dress to my front as he deftly lowered the zipper to the base of my spine.
He trailed a lone fingertip down the center of my back, creating a pattern of chills across my skin. Suddenly my mind clouded, and I was spun right back into the arousal he’d so quickly ignited at the nightclub.
Both his hands settled on my shoulders while mine fell away from the dress. I must check the dressing on your thigh. His deep silken voice made my breath leave in a whoosh.
Easing the garment from my arms, he snagged the straps of my bra too. You don’t need to take off my bra to do that. The breathless quality of my reprimand made my words entirely unconvincing.
But I want to. And, as the dress hung at my wrists, he nimbly flicked open the bra’s catch. My breasts bounced free then the dress swirled down to lay in a puddle around my feet.
As if in the throes of a spell, I started to step from the pile of fabric as well as from my stilettoes but Arkady stopped me. As he faced me, his gaze washed over me with smoldering male hunger.
Leave the heels on. I like them. He took my hand, lacing his fingers slowly through mine. Heat coursed through me from a pulsing point in my pussy.
He helped me step from the dress and sat me on the edge of the bed. Stay. I didn’t move and I barely breathed. He entered the bathroom, tugging off his shirt along the way.
Bronzed muscles flexed as he walked, and I unconsciously arched toward him even though he wasn’t looking. I grew embarrassingly wet between my legs as he stalked back with swabs and bandages in his hand.
His cock pushed out prominently at the front of his trousers. He got to his knees in front of me, and I watched the top of his head as he bent to set his first aid items on the floor.
His calloused hands gripping my ankles, he pressed my legs open. I sat there, swimming in the darkest, most illicit lust, my feet arching within the classy stilettoes, my legs spread obscenely wide, wearing only a pair of diminutive satin panties.
©Ria Warren 2020
Badass, sassafras Rie Warren is an OG Amazon All Star author of Bad Boy books and MC romance. She delivers five-star sex, suspense, and the best banter around.
Her stories are one hundred percent original, do not contain fluffy plots or virgin brides, and wring every last emotion from readers to leave them with a satisfied smile. Rie’s tough alpha males are never brought to heel, but are instead healed by the feisty femme fatale of their perfect match.
She grew up in Maine, went to college in Iowa (Iowa, what?), lived in Scotland, and married in Englishman. In true roundabout fashion, they came back to the States, settled in South Carolina’s lowcountry, putting down southern roots and pursuing their arty endeavors.
Tale spinner and character diviner, Rie is a lover of sleep, wine, and rude memes often involving either Disney characters or Winnie the Pooh. She is raising two teen daughters along with an entire brain full of unruly characters.
Rough-talking alpha men? Rie has that on tap. Stubborn sassy heroines? You bet. Smoldering sex scenes that’ll set your Kindle on fire? Check, check, check.
Keep a fan handy, you’ll need it.
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