Claim Me: A Dark Russian Mafia Romance, page 1
CLAIM ME
PIPER STONE
CONTENTS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Epilogue
Afterword
Books of the Dmitriyev Bratva Series
Books of the Devil’s Syndicate Series
Books of the Legacy of Kings Series
Books of the Vengeful Empire Series
Books of the Brutal Empire Series
Books of the Savage Empire Series
Books of the Ruthless Empire Series
Books of the Benedetti Empire Series
Books of the Mafia Masters Series
More Mafia and Billionaire Romances by Piper Stone
Books of the Claimed and Protected Series
Books of the Mountain Men of Danger Falls Series
Books of the Montana Bad Boys Series
Books of the Missoula Bad Boys Series
More Rough Romances by Piper Stone
Books of the Ruthless Instinct Series
Books of the Alpha Beasts Series
Books of the Cenzan Mates Series
More Sci-Fi and Paranormal Romances by Piper Stone
About Piper Stone
Copyright © 2025 by Stormy Night Publications and Piper Stone
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
Published by Stormy Night Publications and Design, LLC.
www.StormyNightPublications.com
Stone, Piper
Claim Me
Cover Design by Korey Mae Johnson
This book is intended for adults only. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only, intended for adults.
CHAPTER 1
Marissa
The music vibrated deep within my core, the staccato beat of the passage in the Rachmaninoff Prelude extending to my fingertips. With every deep rumble swirling in my chest, I was left breathless in awe and wonderment. Every powerful boom reverberating in my chest excited my mind, the increasing tempo fueling my heartbeat.
There was nothing so freeing as being lost in the moment, finding peace in the driving bass. My fingers flew across the keyboard as my body moved in time like a metronome. I felt every audience member leaning further forward in their seats. Remaining in awe, their emotions were turbulent, anger and sadness mixing with utter joy.
As the lights shimmered across the stage, the other musicians became ferocious in their interpretations of the powerful piece. Every keystroke satisfied the darkest passion, rough and sadistic while remaining hypnotic.
I darted a single look toward the audience, hopeful he was there watching me. Patiently waiting.
Hungering.
A mysterious fan with imploring eyes and wanton desires.
I’d envisioned a man gorgeous and muscular, a knight in shining armor brought by destiny.
Whoever he was, he was my fantasy and I longed for him to finally step away from the shadows, taking what he’d laid claim to the first night he’d tempted me with gifts.
Tingles coursed through me, heat exploding in every tendon and nerve ending. The music. The man.
The longing.
Beads of perspiration dared to defy the flow, a single one sliding down the bridge of my nose. I used the entire keyboard, rolling my fingers from white to black keys, my head bobbing ferociously as the final passage drew near.
A single tear formed in my eye, the love of what I was doing on full display. I was proud yet anxious, struggling with the deep sadness roaring through me. As soon as I brought my hands down in the last chords, the last run of my fingers from one side of the piano to the other, I felt utter vindication.
When finished, I threw my head down, the dramatic ending exactly what I was hoping to achieve.
The applause was thunderous, rumbling beneath my feet as I took a few seconds to relish the moment. I watched as if frozen as both the bead of sweat and the tear fell, lightly splashing across the keys in their own dance of joy and salvation.
The moment I finally lifted my head, staring into the audience, I was more emotional than I’d been in my entire career. The lights blinded me from distinguishing faces, but I could feel the outpouring of love. This was my moment, something I’d worked my entire life to achieve, never believing it possible. As I took my bows along with everyone else in the symphony, I reminded myself that dreams really could come true.
I could feel him, the heated vibrations pulsing deep within my pussy.
Once the curtain was down, I pressed my hands over my mouth to keep from screaming. I’d worked for years to achieve a single goal. To be a soloist. I spun in a circle, stomping my feet to continue the vibrations. They allowed me to know this was real and I was very much alive.
“So beautiful!” someone called.
“Very proud of you,” the conductor said. “Absolutely stunning. We need to discuss your upcoming piece for the world tour.”
Oh, my gosh. We’d heard rumors we’d be heading overseas. I sucked in my breath as I watched his hands in fluid movements. He was a true maestro. Excitement tore through me. I hadn’t been certain I’d be allowed another solo. To think of doing so in Milan or Paris was incredible. “Oh, thank you. Yes. Yes. We will.”
“Call me in a couple days.”
At least we had some time off to reenergize and enjoy the moment, but I was even more excited about the next concert. The program was entirely different, the selections free and full of passion. Music was my life.
“Thank you, sir. So much.” I fanned my face, rising onto my tiptoes to try to locate my best friend, finally watching as she pushed and shoved her way closer.
“You did so great!” Teresa squealed as she bounded in my direction. A violin virtuoso, she’d been first chair for the evening, the selection astounding her as much as I’d been when I’d received the solo. We’d both worked so hard to achieve this very moment, never fully believing it would happen.
We jumped up and down together before she wrapped her arm around my waist as we did our victory dance toward the dressing rooms.
“So did you.”
“Did you notice the reporters?”
I shook my head. “If I had then panic would have set in.”
“Bullshit. Gah, I can’t believe the concert hall was packed,” she added as we pushed our way through the crowd. I continued looking at her, so entrenched in what she was saying I ran into another performer.
“Oops!” I laughed, giving a hand sign as the celloist grinned.
“You can make it up to me by going out for a drink.” The musician’s hand brushed down my back and instead of the tingling sensations I’d felt before, his touch was creepy.
I could tell Joseph was shouting, which was unnecessary. I shook my head, avoiding eye contact. “I’m finally back home in Seattle. I need my warm bed.” I also craved a tall glass of wine all by myself. Maybe a movie under a warm blanket. I put my two hands together, placing them by my ear and leaning my head against them indicating sleepy time.
He gave me a heated look. “That can be arranged.”
I swatted him while Teresa wagged her finger. “Not this time.”
Sighing, his gaze turned darker, but he nodded. “One day, Marissa. One day.”
He was so sure of himself. Of course it didn’t help almost all the female musicians fawned over him.
We both waited as he moved into the crowd, no doubt eager to start his evening of drinking with the guys.
“He never gives up,” she mused, shaking her head. “Kind of creepy if you ask me.”
“No, he doesn’t, which is a problem, but he’s a nice guy.” He’d asked me out on countless dates over the last few months. I’d accepted one. He’d reminded me why his nickname was Mr. Handsy. I’d caught him lingering in the corridors waiting for me to walk by afterwards. He wasn’t a bad guy, but my world revolved around my music. I opened my dressing room door, another little thrill. For tonight, I had a dressing room of my own. Maybe it was the size of a closet, but that didn’t matter. I only hoped my brother had made it to the concert. He’d be so proud of me. He’d been my greatest supporter over the years.
“You might want to give him a chance. Maybe a cup of coffee.” Teresa leaned against the wall, giving me one of her infamous looks. “That’s right. You already did that. How many times did he shove his tongue down your throat?” Her laughter caused me to shake my head.
The hallway was abuzz with activity and excitement. We were home for a full
Shrugging, she studied my hands. “I know, but I’m just looking out for you. At least have a drink with me. We need to party.”
“That I can do.” I walked in and immediately froze. Very slowly a smile crossed my face. This time the sweeping sensations were explosive. My made-up images of my adoring fan centered in my mind. Soft lips. Hard muscles. A big, thick cock. I licked my lips as I thought about swirling my tongue around his shaft. “My God.”
“What?” she asked.
“Take a look.” A tiny thrill tickled me all the way to my toes. The roses were from him, the sexy stranger I’d never met. I’d been right. He’d been in the audience. Maybe he was waiting for me.
Teresa trailed behind me, peering around my shoulder. “Wow. Those roses are incredible. Suddenly, you’re popular. Maybe he’s a hot guy. Ooh-la-la.”
I was shocked to see them, the instant thrill followed by a moment of sheer fantasy even filthier than before. It was the third time an admirer had sent flowers. Always blood red. Always accompanied by a beautiful quote. After the first, the fantasy had been born, the person responsible a handsome man who adored my music, someone exploding with passion. Another series of tingles slipped down my spine. “Maybe,” I breathed. “They are… amazing.”
“Perhaps they’re from your brother or…” She squeezed my arm, issuing her famous pout. “No, my guess is some gorgeous man wants to sweep you off your feet. He must be rich. Your lucky day. I’m jealous.”
“Oh, stop. Besides, what if I have a boyfriend?”
She swatted me. “You wouldn’t keep something so decadent from your bestie. Whoa. There’s a package for you too. This kind of thing only happens in romance books.”
True enough.
There was a silver bag with a glorious red bow that perfectly matched the shade of roses. Another moment of shock and awe settled in. Only my brother knew my favorite color was red. Maybe Teresa was right. I was home in Seattle. Charlie had promised he’d try to attend.
Suddenly, an unsettling feeling replaced the giddiness. Hesitantly, I moved toward the crystal vase that glistened in the LED lighting, pressing my fingers around the stem of one while I inhaled. The scent was incredible, the velvety petals tickling my nose. Staring at the bag, I was almost fearful to discover what was hiding beneath the crisp tissue paper.
Teresa moved to where I could see her. “Well, open it. Don’t keep a girl waiting. I certainly have never received a gift after a performance. I’m already jealous,” she encouraged even though her mouth twisted into a pout. She was almost as excited as I was.
I glanced toward the still open door, hopeful to see my brother standing just outside. He’d been so busy lately that even when we’d performed in Seattle two months before, he hadn’t been able to attend the performance. Musicians rushed by the door, all laughing in their moment of celebration. At that moment, the crowd blended together in a sea of bodies and noise.
Blinking, I looked away, the uneasiness continuing. That was ridiculous. Someone valued me as an artist. Nothing more.
I tugged at the bow, draping it across the edge of the mirror once freed. I peered inside to find a black velvet box.
Bright red tissue paper was nestled inside, the folds perfectly done. My fingers were shaking as I removed the box, eager yet a tiny nagging feeling pooled in my stomach. There was no reason for me to feel nervous, but butterflies swarmed my stomach. Very gingerly I opened the lid, the light immediately reflecting across bedazzled jewels. Wow. The flutter continued as a wash of heat crossed my jaw.
No stranger gave such expensive and glorious gifts without requiring something in return. A knot formed in my stomach.
Teresa was right behind me, on her tiptoes to glance over my shoulder. “Oh, my God. Are you kidding me? A ruby and diamond necklace. That must be from Charles. Did he come into some money?”
Frowning, I had to ask myself the same question. He’d sunk every dime into the resort and casino several years before, even using his inheritance to make his dream come alive. Maybe it was doing better than I’d been led to believe.
“No,” I whispered.
“Then maybe from your mystery man.”
What if that was the truth? Who sent a stranger expensive jewelry? The hair on the back of my neck stood up and for some reason, my nipples suddenly ached.
I bit my lower lip as I brushed my fingers across the dazzling jewels. The necklace was spectacular.
“Maybe there’s a note. If they’re from Mr. Dark and Dangerous, I’ll be really jealous.”
“Mr. Dark and Dangerous?” I threw at her.
After placing the box on the dressing table, I peered into the bag. There was a white envelope pressed against the side. I glanced over my shoulder at the door, uncertain what I was anticipating. While my brother adored me and would do everything in his power to protect me while allowing me to pursue my dream, my instinct told me the gift had come from someone else.
The man I’d seen watching me. Three times. The first time I hadn’t been certain, thinking the dark figure remaining in the shadows was just another patron of the arts. But the second time, I’d felt his eyes boring into me. That’s when the fictional, overtly sexy story had been born. With almost no dating experience, the dark fantasy had kept me warm.
This felt more like an obsession and something I should be extremely concerned about.
A lump had formed in my throat as I peeled away the flap, pulling the thick card from inside. As I skimmed the words, I was stricken with a sense of foreboding, which didn’t make any sense. There was nothing overtly dangerous or threatening about the words. In fact, they were hauntingly beautiful.
“Music is the literature of the heart; it commences where speech ends.”
Alphonse de Lamarline
I read the words out loud. What a perfect quote. Nothing threatening. Nothing overt. Just an amazing saying that fit the situation. Yet the ache in my nipples increased. Still trembling. Still breathless. I glanced into Teresa’s face, studying her reaction.
“Wow,” she exclaimed. “That’s beautiful. I didn’t know your brother was a romantic.”
He wasn’t.
I fingered the calligraphy, brushing my fingers across the slight ingrains from a heavy hand. Whoever had sent this to me had written the card himself.
“You really are a lucky girl, or you have a stalker. Either way, how freaking cool. We regroup in fifteen minutes?” she asked. “We’ll go to Jazzy’s tonight for a drink.”
I nodded and read the card again, still caught in the mystery and moment of utter passion, a similar emotion to what I’d felt while playing. Sighing, I glanced at the necklace. The piece must have cost a fortune. Maybe Charles had sensed just how important the solo was, not only to my career, but to the pain I’d felt burning deep inside for so many years. I brushed my fingers across the soft, velvety rose petals, another smile pulling at my lips.
A slight reflection caught my attention and I glanced into the mirror. My brother stood at the door with a bouquet of pink roses in his hand. Pink. Not red. Red like hearts. Red like… blood.
Instinctively, I slipped the card into the bag, pushing it and the velvet box behind the crystal vase. Knowing how protective my brother was, he’d demand to know who’d sent the gift, going to great lengths to find out while causing me significant angst. No, thank you.
Plus, I liked having a sinful secret.
I turned around, smiling. His eyes were full of pride.
Without saying anything, he took long strides toward me, offering the incredible bouquet. “Thank you.” I took a deep whiff. The fragrance was incredible, but not nearly as intoxicating as the others.
“You were incredible. I’m so proud of you,” he said as he looked directly at me, but his eyes wandered almost immediately to the other bouquet. His expression immediately hardened. “Who are those from?” He’d shifted his gaze back to my eyes. Now, all business. Entirely too protective and demanding.
“I’m not sure. An admirer.”
“Who?” His question was a demand.
My nerves were boosted to the very edge.
“I don’t know. Stop. Other girls get flowers sometimes, Charlie. I had a solo. Maybe from one of the orchestra benefactors. We were sold out tonight.” Even though he nodded, his face was pinched and the look in his eyes almost frightened me. He wasn’t just being my brother. Something was off. I’d had the same feeling several times before, but he never wanted to worry me.
