by Cole, Jagger
“I have a confession.”
She looks up shyly.
“I lust when I look at you.”
She blushes. “Yeah, but it’s different.”
I grin. “Yes, but how is it—”
“Because no man has ever looked at me the way you do,” she breathes softly.
Our eyes lock. My lips pull into a smile. Goddamn, I can’t stop smiling with her here in my world.
River blushes and turns to the wall of built-in shelves by the doorway.
“Hey, how about some music?”
She suddenly reaches for the bluetooth speaker connected to my laptop as I sit bolt upright.
“Shit, wait—”
But she pushes the play button. Instantly, the whole bedroom is filled with…
“Okay what is that?”
I grin, even if I have a slight twinge of embarrassment in my taste in music. Especially to someone her age. I very much doubt she’s ever listened to much Russian folk music.
“What, you’re not a fan of Vladimir Vysotsky?” I smirk sarcastically.
She’s trying to hold back, but she’s clearly having a hard time not laughing. I don’t exactly blame her. Vysotsky is like the Soviet-era Russian version of Johnny Cash. Deep baritone with a country music sound. But, Russian country music, not American. So basically, Johnny Cash singing like a dramatic Bond villain, backed by a klezmer band—accordions, tubas, the whole thing.
I’ve listened to this shit my entire life, and it’s still comical to me.
“You can laugh, you’re not going to get in trouble.”
The dam breaks. Instantly, River is howling with laughter. Tears roll down her face as Vladimir belts out an upswing ballad about his grandmother’s beet farm. She blushes as she looks at me, wiping tears away.
“Oh my God, this is…”
“A classic,” I grin.
“Do you really listen to this?”
I nod, shrugging. “He was my father’s favorite singer. I grew up with this shit.”
Her smile fades. “Oh, geez, now I feel like an asshole.”
“Don’t. It’s comical, and campy. But that’s why I like it.” I smile as the memories of playing in the corner of my father’s office, listening to this stuff, flood back. “I was born when Russia was still the Soviet Union. Towards the end of it, but still. It wasn’t the happiest, sunniest of times. My father though?” I shake my head. “He was born during the second World War. He grew up during the height of the Cold War. He was…” I frown. “Let’s say he wasn’t one for smiling. I can count the number of times I saw his smile on less than ten fingers, actually.”
The Vysotsky track swells comically, blending from tuba band to a gypsy-jazz type sound.
“But this?” I chuckle. “This you can’t help but smile about.”
She grins. “You really can’t. This sounds hilarious, what are the lyrics about?”
“A soldier dying face-down in a trench.”
River makes a face. “Seriously?”
“That’s Soviet humor for you,” I chuckle as the song ends. “For the record, I grew up listening to other stuff too. I’m old but I’m not that old.”
She giggles and turns back to the bluetooth speaker. She starts scrolling through the tracks. “So what else did you grow up listening to?” She turns to smirk at me. “Soviet marching music and more tuba bands?”
“Hilarious. I was an eighties and nineties kid. We listened to smuggled-in Depeche Mode and Nirvana records.”
She grins impishly. “Oh, so classic rock?”
“Careful,” I growl as she giggles.
“I actually love Depeche Mode. More of Pearl Jam girl when it comes to grunge, though.”
“Well, no one’s perfect.”
She giggles again. God, I’ll never get tired of that giggle. I stand, naked as I move towards her. She drags her teeth over her lip, glancing down at my nudity. But I brush past her and scroll to a new track on the speaker. I turn to grin at her.
“I hope you’re ready for this.”
“For what—”
The Russia hopak folk music blasts through the room. Instantly, I drop into the dance position—the sitting position with my arms crossed stiffly. My legs kick out, my thighs staying at the ninety-degree angle.
River losses her mind. She howls with laughter—tears running down her face as she holds her sides. I bark the shouted verses with the folk music. I kick furiously, keeping my face stern and scowling. Which is extremely difficult with how much she’s laughing.
When the song ends, she’s literally on the floor, laughing as the tears flood down her face. I grin and take a dramatic bow. River gets to her feet and falls laughing into my arms. She looks up, and she’s still laughing when my mouth finds hers.
But then the kiss grows deeper. I pull the towel from her and let it drop. Her body presses to mine, and her laughter turns to a soft moan.
It doesn’t matter that I’m not technically fucking her. This is the most intimate I’ve ever been, with anyone. This is lust, but it’s also something bigger. It’s something I thought I’d felt before, but now know I was wrong.
I reach over and push the play button. Depeche Mode’s Precious fills the bedroom as she sinks into my arms.
I don’t know what’s happening to me. I don’t know what she’s doing to me. But I know there’s no going back. There’s no taking any of this back.
Only forward. With her.
16
River
“Holy shit…”
I’m seeing double. I gasp for air as I roll onto my stomach on the bed. Every inch of me is throbbing and tingling. Every single cell in my body is humming with a hungry energy.
It’s been like this for almost ten days now. But no, I’m not having the longest stroke in the world. This is just the hazards of locking yourself away from the world on a crime lord’s yacht having a marathon sex-fest with the hottest older man of all time.
I turn to grin lazily at that very man himself. Yuri groans, stretching on the big bed next to me. Sweat glistens on his chest, and I can feel it trickling down the small of my back as well.
“You okay, old guy?”
He turns to glare at me. But it’s with a hungry grin on his face. “Watch it.”
“Or?”
“Or I’m going to do that to you again, without a break.”
I groan. But my body surges, eager for it. Even if doing that again might very well kill me unless I get some air and water first.
“I yield, I yield,” I mumble. Yuri grins as I slide over and kiss him. But then I’m rolling out of the bed to stand on shaky legs. Shit, too quickly. I plunk back down to the edge of the bed as my head spins.
Yuri chuckles. “You going to be okay?”
“If I’m not, I’m blaming you.”
He grins. “That seems like a fair accusation.”
I groan and stand again. This time, I make it the bathroom. I pee, grab a robe, and wrap it around myself before I duck back into the bedroom.
“I’m going up for air. And maybe some food.”
“I’ll have it brought here.”
I roll my eyes, grinning at him. “That’s tempting.”
“So be tempted.”
I blush. “Air, Yuri. I need fresh air.”
He chuckles and sits up in the bed. My teeth rake over my lip as I let my eyes slide over his perfect body.
“Eyes up here,” he grunts.
I blush as I look at him. “Need anything?”
“You, back in this bed.”
I giggle. “I’ll do you one better when I come back with food, too.”
I turn for the door.
“Come back soon, kiska,” he growls. “Or I might come looking for you.”
The promise makes me tremble with heat. I smile at him, heart thumping as I slip out the door. I walk slowly, barefoot, through the huge yacht. Korol is prepping some sort of roast in the kitchens when I step in. But he eagerly puts it aside when he spots
me.
“Here, for you, I make something special.”
I giggle. “Is it one of those sinfully good grilled cheeses?”
He smirks. “I am getting predictable.”
“And I’m getting chubby. Bring it.”
He chuckles and turns to start the stove. “Get a seat, I’ll bring it out when it’s done.”
I thank him and slip out into the formal dining room. It occurs to me that I’ve only ever had late-night, post-sex-marathon grilled cheeses out here, courtesy of Korol. The rest of my meals I’ve eaten either in bed with Yuri, or on his private terrace.
But the big dining room is gorgeous, too. I walk across it and out the open doors onto the mid-level deck. I slip behind the bar area and pull a bottle of sparkling water from the cooler. Then I find a seat by the balcony overlooking the dark sea.
I could stay here forever.
It’s a silly thought. But every time it comes up in my head, the next question to thinking it’s silly is “well why not?”
Why not spend forever here? A huge boat? A pool, a movie theater, all the grilled cheeses I can eat, and a crazy-hot, older sex-god who seems hell-bent on making me die from orgasm?
I blush as I replay the events of the last few hours. And yet somehow, through all of our body-quaking escapades…
My face burns hotter as I look down at my hands.
I’m still technically a virgin. In the most archaic, basic sense of the word. We’re covered literally everything else, but we’ve stopped just shy—sometimes by barely an inch—of him actually sliding into me.
He’s never pushed it. Not once, and I’m so amazed by him for that. But I also understand why, even though we haven’t said it out loud. Yuri might be a vicious, ruthless, cold-blooded bratva kingpin. But he’s not a monster.
I know the reason he hasn’t simply done what most men would have by now, is because of me. He’s waiting for me to make that final step.
I groan, feeling embarrassed at myself as I chug the sparkling water. I don’t actually know why I haven’t been able to find the courage to do that. I mean it’s not for lack of intimacy on a physical level, that’s for freaking sure. And it’s not because I don’t feel safe with him. On the contrary, I’ve never felt safer. I’ve never felt more desired, and truly wanted, for all of me.
No one has ever seen the “me” inside of me like that man back in that bedroom has.
I freeze, the bottle of water halfway to my lips. It’s like the second I say it, I realize that’s that final key. The second that thought enters my head, I suddenly realize I have no freaking idea why I haven’t truly slept with and given my virginity to him.
I grin, a flush creeping over my face. The idea of just doing it—just marching back there right now, climbing into his lap, and just taking him in sounds so good. It sounds so fucking good that I’m almost mad at myself that it’s taken me this long to come to this inevitable conclusion.
“Et voila, grilled cheese.”
I gasp, startled by Korol as he sets the plate down in front of me.
“Magnifique,” I giggle.
He laughs. “Enjoy, Ms. Finn.”
When he walks away, my stomach gurgles as I stare at the sandwich. Okay, grilled cheese, and then I’m marching back down there and shaking off this dumb v-card once and for all.
I’m two bites in when I hear the chuckle behind me. I blush, turning with a mouthful of buttered bread and cheese.
“Don’t judge me,” I mumble around the bite.
Yuri chuckles as he slinks towards me. He’s barefoot, in black jeans and a Depeche Mode t-shirt. I giggle at the sight. I’ve only ever seen him in either a formal suit, or naked.
“Wouldn’t dream of it, kiska,” he grins. “But only if you share.”
I scrunch my face up. “That’s a hard bargain.”
“Take it or leave it.”
I sigh dramatically. “Okay. One bite. Korol is a genius.”
Yuri sits, and I instantly climb into his lap. I kiss him softly, then pull back to offer him the sandwich.
“I might prefer the appetizer more, now,” he groans. He leans close and kisses me again. Heat sizzles in my core. I pull back to let my eyes hold him. I swallow as my pulse thuds.
“I…” my cheeks burn. “I was thinking about something.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah.” I grin. “It involves you and me.”
He laughs. “I like where this is going.”
“And…” I wet my lips. “Something new.”
Yuri raises a brow. “Something new like…?”
“Like something we’ve been dancing around. Something we both want, but that we’ve both been waiting for me to take the first step on…”
He groans, and I instantly feel his thickness surge against me. I gasp softly as I settle onto his lap.
“Kiska,” he growls quietly. “There’s no need…” he groans as he looks deep into my eyes. His hands tighten on me. “I want you, River. I want every part of you, all for myself. Greedily. Selfishly.”
I moan, pulling close to him. “Good, then we’re on the same—”
Something heavy and metal suddenly lands with a clank on the deck. My head whips around as the strange hook looking thing suddenly yanks back against the railing, pulled by a rope. My brow furrows.
“What the hell is—”
“Move!!”
I scream as Yuri grabs me. He lunges to his feet carrying me in his arms. He whirls and starts to bolt into the dining room. But suddenly, the doors inside smash in. I scream again when two men in black holding machine guns barge in and start screaming in Russian.
Yuri hisses, whirling. But suddenly, I realize what it is that clanked onto the deck: a grappling hook. Because just then, three more men are clamoring over the edge of the rail brandishing machine guns.
Yuri moves like a bear: fast, ferocious, and ruthlessly. He tosses me into a deck chair and whirls, slamming into the first man like a truck. The guy doubles over in pain, but Yuri is already whirling to the next. He grabs the teak chair I was just eating grilled cheese in and whips it around. It catches the second man in the head with a crunching sound. I bury the scream in my hands as his body flops over the side of the yacht.
But as Yuri whirls again, suddenly, there’s even more of them. Three others join the first two in the dining room, and all five are barking orders, holding the guns up at him. I scream as two of them rush me. Yuri roars, whirling as if to charge. But instantly, the others are on him.
I scream again when one of them slams the butt of his rifle into Yuri’s stomach. Two men grab me by the arms, yanking me out of the lounger. Yuri bellows and tries to charge again, only to get slammed to the deck by the rifle again.
He gets right back up. I’m screaming and sobbing in terror as he roars and charges again. But suddenly, a familiar voice barks from the dining room. We all whirl to see Maksim storming out brandishing a machine gun, a tight scowl on his face.
Even though there’s five of them and one of Maksim, I feel hope suddenly catch fire in me.
That is, until Maksim marches over to Yuri, pulls his fist back, and punches the older man in the jaw.
I scream as he topples to the side. The men around him chuckle, and two of them yank him up and slam him up against the railing. Yuri’s eyes flash to mine, his jaw clenched tight. My pulse thuds as I try not to drown in the fear creeping up my throat.
“Ona ne tvoya,” Maksim spits at Yuri.
None of the other men are knocking him down or taking his guns. He’s with them. I’m witnessing a coup.
“Yes, she is,” Yuri snarls back at him in English. “She was mine the minute I laid eyes on her.” His lips curl into a snarl. “This is Semyon, isn’t it?”
Maksim shrugs. “It is what it is,” he grunts.
“Fuck you!” I scream at him. He turns along with the rest of them to smirk at me.
“You will learn how to speak politely,” he smiles thinly. “Your new husband will see
to that.”
My stomach drops. Yuri snarls and tries to lunge at Maksim. But the men holding him hold him fast. Suddenly, Maksim pulls a pistol out of the back of his belt. When he levels it at Yuri, my heart stops. My vision dims at the corners as pure horror explodes deep in my very soul.
Yuri’s gaze swivels to mine. His face is grim, but his eyes hold mine fiercely. And suddenly, his lips are mouthing three words that break my heart in two.
“I love you.”
Maksim cocks the gun. “See you in hell, Yuri.”
“No—!!”
The gun roars. Yuri grunts and knocks backwards as the men holding him let go. And suddenly, he’s just gone.
I hear the splash, and then nothing. Then, I just go numb.
I feel nothing. I hear nothing as the men yell in Russian and yank me back through the dining room. They bring me down to the back lower deck, and then onto a small black military skiff.
Maksim climbs on as well, and the engine rumbles to life. The skiff pulls away from the huge yacht that’s been my home for the last two weeks. But suddenly, it slows and stops, drifting to the side. One of the men pulls a big box out from under one of the bench seats and opens it. He hauls something cylinder-shaped out and rests it on his shoulder.
Suddenly, I realize he’s holding a rocket launcher.
Maksim hisses something angrily. But the man with the rocket just chuckles. The other men I don’t know seem to be on the same page. One of them turns to me, grinning wickedly.
“Say bye bye,” he chuckles in broken English.
I barely hear the hiss. I blink at the sudden bright spark of the rocket launching from the tube. It feels like I’m watching in slow motion as the little bright spark shoots through the darkness. But when it hits the side of the yacht, the darkness is erased.
The explosion is deafening. The fireball turns night to day. And my heart turns to ash as the yacht goes up in flames.
The skiff motor turns on again. I crumple to the floor, holding myself in shock as we roar away across the waves from the only man I ever loved.