It’s not purely selfless. I love the way his ribbed muscles press into my soapy fingers, and I feel out the deep crevices and beautiful hills of his body. He’s masculine perfection, his body honed in that gym where we first made love, and on the job where he’s saved my life repeatedly, and I’m fascinated by him.
Even as the water grows cooler and goosebumps arise on both our bodies, we don’t want to part. We don’t want anything to disturb this perfect, tranquil moment that’s stretched out between us. He takes the brunt of the cold on his back as my fingers trail down, finding his masculinity, letting the soap cleanse him of my feminine scent.
Despite our recent lovemaking and the chill water spraying his backside, he stiffens in my grasp. That hefty cock in my palm throbbing bigger, thicker, its veiny surface expanding until at last, he’s more than clean and he shuts off the shower.
“Here,” he says, reaching out of the shower to pluck up a towel and wrapping it around me. He’s still dripping, but he picks me up in his arms, carrying me out of the bathroom and into the bedroom nearby. He doesn’t give a damn about the trail of water we leave behind, but he lays me down on the edge of the bed and slowly towels me off before using it on himself. And I get the added joy of watching him stand before me, half-erect, wiping away glistening moisture from his ripped physique.
It feels like the calm after a storm, everything feeling so electric and fresh, and when he tosses the towel aside, I reach for him. I want to feel his weight on mine, to become one again.
“You’re gorgeous,” I say as I look him up and down, drinking in his scars, his beautiful tattoos, his rugged masculinity. I want to lick him all over, to taste his clean flesh, to make him feel good.
He places one knee upon the bed then lifts me up, laying me down in the middle of the mattress before lowering himself over me. Despite all that thick, hard muscle weighing him down, he holds himself up with ease, kissing my lips, my face, my neck, letting his free hand roam over my breasts and torso.
This time, unlike our rough and hard fuck in the shower, he’s gentle and slow, even though I feel his dick so hard and pulsating, pressing along my smooth inner thighs. Mikhail’s rock-hard and throbbing with need for me again already, but he takes his time, exploring my newly cleansed body as if discovering it for the first time all over again.
I feel naked, but not in the physical way, even though I am. It’s like he’s reached into my core and sees me as I really am, all the flaws I try to hide, and simply accepts them. Usually, being naked comes with a sense of vulnerability, but he makes it feel something so much deeper than that.
I watch as his tongue trails along my hip bone, leaving a little roadway of saliva that quickly dries away, and then he kisses closer to my sex and I shiver. I’m already so sensitive from my earlier orgasm, and now, he’s so near to the source of that torturous delight.
Mikhail fucked me. Came in me. Then cleaned me again. And now here he is, his lips kissing my labia as his tongue lashes out against my sensitive clit. Lifting and guiding me through the whole process.
To be his is to feel the epitome of vulnerability and security all at once. This big, broad-shouldered brute hunches down, licking at my freshly cleaned slit, his muscles rippling as he pushes my thighs apart. The swirl of his tongue around my tiny clit so torturously skillful.
My back arches and for a second I think I’m going to twitch and hurt him, but then I remember it’s Mikhail. I can’t hurt him. It’s like he reads my thoughts, because he grips my thighs harder, making sure I know that he’s the one in control, even as he pampers me with his mouth.
“Oh god,” I gasp, clutching the blankets as my entire body grows warmer. I lose all my thoughts, all my hesitations, all my insecurities as he lavishes me with attention.
There he is, this older man, made of muscle and determination, carrying the scars of a harsh life, using all his power to hold me down and please me. To keep me in place as he takes his time, taking a taste of me. And the way he does it never made it seem for one moment like it’s anything but his desire to drink me in and have every bit of me that pushed him to do this.
Mikhail has to have me. All of me. All to himself. But not like some rich man hoards his gold, no. It isn’t just enough to have me, he has to experience every facet of me. Savor me. And that’s what it looks like as I watch him eat me out, his head moving, a low, guttural growl rumbling from out of his broad chest to hum through his lips and he tongues against my slit.
Even though I can’t help but squirm, I’m overcome by the sensuality and the soft pleasure he’s bestowing on me. I lick my lips, but I’m panting so fast that they’re immediately dry again.
“Oh Mikhail,” I moan, my fingers going to his head, entwining in his thick hair as my other hand grips the comforter. “Just like that!”
But he does it as his own pace, torturing me, teasing me along the brink a while until I’m a panting, squirming mess. Only when he’s satisfied with having his fill does he help push me over that ledge I’ve been teetering on, his tongue masterfully swirling around my clit until I’m crying out and gushing with pleasure.
My world goes dark as I feel blind a moment, slumping back onto the bed breathlessly. When I slowly come back to reality, it’s with my dark, rugged lover over me. My ankles are in his hands as he keeps me splayed wide, his dick teasing along my glistening pussy.
“I meant every word I said,” he growls, nudging the thick, purple crown of his manhood against my womanhood. He speaks as he sinks down into me, spearing me on his manhood as his dark voice rumbles with pleasure, “I am going to knock you up and make you my woman for life, kotika.”
“I know,” I manage, but my head is still spinning, and I’d say anything to get him back inside of me. I want his warmth, his touch, inside and out. But it’s not for me to say. He has all the power, all the control, and no matter how much I nudge my hips towards him, I know he won’t take me until he can’t stand the temptation any more.
I watch his manhood pulse as I tease, smearing my glistening honey along his cock as he stares at me with such intensity. Is it love? Lust? Both, I know instinctually. The smolder in his dark gaze is communicating with me on a sub-human level, even though he’s never said the words.
He sweeps down slowly and presses his lips to mine, taking my mouth with a deep, passionate kiss. Only then does he push in, spearing me once more, stretching me around his manhood and making me moan all over again, as if it were the very first time. From there, it’s the slow, steady pump of his hips as he claims me anew.
I’m fresh and clean, but he’s making me feel filthy in all the right ways. He’s torturing me with pleasure, and it’s only when I’m screaming and the bed is torn apart by my frantic grasping that he seems to be letting up at all. I feel like I can’t take it anymore, my throbbing clit pressed against his loins, my ankles wrapped around his neck, but he doesn’t relent.
My paler skin meets his hard flesh, his short tangle of dark hair above his shaft tickling my sensitive nub as he pumps into me. It’s torturous! And with how big he is, the strain he puts on my narrow little slit is almost too much to bear, but he draws the moment out, taking his time with me. Slow and sweet.
I’ve been flailing and bunching up blankets around me for some time when I first start screaming out, “I can’t take it!” But he’s still not done with me, even as I feel his dick swell. He’s ravenous, like a mighty warrior savoring his gladiatorial rewards, and he won’t stop until he’s done.
As I feel him near, he reaches out, taking hold of my face, pointing me right towards him as he stares into my eyes so intensely.
“I am going to breed you, my pet,” he husks, his gaze not letting mine wander. “I am going to keep you with me and make you swell with my child. And when you give birth, I’ll plant another seed in your belly…and another…” His gaze grows darker, more intense and I feel him throbbing inside me painfully wide, my poor pink little labia stretched raw and reddish from his long use of me.
Some part of me screams that I shouldn’t let a killer come in me—again—but I shove that voice down, because what he’s saying...
I want that. I want exactly that.
“Yes!” I cry out, “Please, I need it.”
I’m on the cusp of another orgasm, but I do my best to keep it down and watch. Watch the glorious sight of this ripped god pump his dick into me a few final times. See the way his veiny trunk of a cock splits me open, glistening with my honey, until at last, he buries it inside me one final time.
I watch as he tenses, and sinewy muscle bulges across his broad shoulders, over his biceps and down his rocky stomach. Then I witness the glorious sight of this massive brute pump, short little coital pumps, and I’m able to feel him piercing too deep inside, unleashing all that virile seed as far inside me as it’ll go.
And I do it all knowing that each new spurt of his cream was another enhanced guarantee I’d bear this murderer’s child.
That’s the thought that does it, and I can’t hold back anymore. I let loose a scream of pleasure that surpasses all the others and I sink my nails into his bulging forearms, quaking so intensely as I climax upon his dick again, a flood of my slick honey coating his manhood, flooding down around his heavy balls.
When finally we come down from our mutual high, panting for breath and glistening with perspiration, I can’t help but giggle a bit.
“I’m going to need another shower now that you dirtied me all up again,” I tease.
He gives a wry smile and kisses me sweetly, grabbing up the towel from the floor and using it to cup our loins as he pulls from me, keeping our blissful mess from spilling out. That tender little act is just one among many, but it touches me deeply as he pulls me into him with his arm, holding me to his chest as he tugs the blankets up around us.
“Worry about showers later, kotika,” he says gruffly, turning off the bedside light. “For now, you and me need to rest,” he says.
I know he’s right, and after... how many orgasms? I’m exhausted. All the pain of earlier, the aches in my wrists and leg return, though they’re duller now, numbed by our mutual pleasure.
“That was amazing,” I purr as I curl into his chest, my fingers lazily stroking the bed of hair there.
“You were amazing, little kotika,” he says in a deep gruff.
“What does that mean?” I ask, my voice faltering as hoarseness takes over. “Kotika?”
“Kitty cat,” he explains patiently. “You are my little kotika,” he says, and though it’s dark now, I can feel his smile.
My heart's still pumping even as he idly strokes my hair, and I wonder if I’ll ever calm down enough to get to sleep. But it doesn’t take us long before we’re both out, the exhausting day claiming us both in a deep sleep.
When I wake up, it has to be a whole new day, because I feel like I’ve slept for an eternity, but the orange glow of evening sunset spills into the room. We must’ve slept for nearly a full twenty four hours!
But that’s not the truly alarming thing—what strikes me is the sight of Mikhail sat on the edge of the bed, phone to his ear.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, but he holds up a hand to silence me.
“Get dressed,” he says tersely, and I see the seriousness in his eyes. “Now.”
19
Mikhail
Nikki’s voice still rings in my ears.
“Gregor knows everything. He knows you hid the girl, that you killed Vasili…I’ve never seen him so angry, Mikhail. And the way he looked at me? He’s gonna be gunning for everyone you’ve ever cared for, if that’s what it takes to get to you,” she’d said.
I’d told her to go into hiding, given her the address for my old safehouse in New York, the one I’d taken Alicia to originally, in case she can’t get any further in time. But nobody is safe anymore. Not with me around.
“What’s wrong?” Alicia asks me, pulling me out of my own head as we get ready, and I head to the closet, pulling out a shirt, pants, and jacket. She’s listening to me now, getting dressed, and I know she must realize how serious this is. She’s fought me on everything else so far, but now she’s being obedient. It somehow hurts to see that, and know it’s my fault.
“Somehow, Gregorovich knows I spared you, kept you safe, and killed Vasili,” I say as evenly as I can, but we have to go.
“Who’s Gregorovich?”
“One of the biggest bosses in New York.”
“Wait… was that the other Russian guy Vasili was talking to on the phone while he was torturing me?” she asks, fear quaking her voice.
Shit. So that was it.
“I guess that’s how he overheard it all when you came to rescue me,” she says, and she’s right.
“Rookie mistake,” I growl at myself. But my head had been fuzzy. It was a miracle that I pulled off the rescue at all with all the blood I’d lost by then.
“Aren’t we safe here?” she asks me as she pulls on her clothes. Unfortunately, I have no extra women’s things, so I do my best to offer her one of my oversized shirts to replace her bloodstained top.
“No,” I say firmly.
“But… you said it’s secure,” she says, clearly not grasping the severity of the situation. And how could she? I took her out of her simple life, where her biggest concerns were getting recognized at her job. She wasn’t made for my life, for the things I have to do.
I grasp her by the shoulders, holding her tight as I gaze down into her eyes.
“This isn’t a thug like Vasili. Gregorovich is a boss. He commands an army with the backing of a fortune. He’s less a criminal than a warlord. None of the usual rules apply anymore, Allie. None of them. He will find us here if we stay long enough, he’ll find us anywhere we go. Hiding is no longer an option. Running only works for so long,” I say, impressing upon her the seriousness of this situation.
But I see the wide-eyed fear and depression setting into her gaze.
“Then…then what? We just...give up?” she asks, her lower lip trembling, making me want to kiss and suckle it. Damn it, I can’t get distracted. Not now. I want to soothe and comfort her, but there’s only one way I know to do that.
“No,” I say firmly, lightening my grip on her. “I am going to take you back to the gang and arrange a meeting with the over bosses. If Gregorovich is going to wage war, I am going to call in the big guns,” I tell her firmly, knowing it’s the only course of action.
But her brow furrows, she disapproves immediately.
“But… you can’t take me to the gang again,” she objects as I take out a burner phone, a disposable thing I’ll use but once before discarding it. “Mikhail,” she says grabbing my bicep as I dial up a number I’ve not ever had to call.
I block her out as the call goes through, and a dark voice picks up on the other end.
“Yes?” a man’s voice says on the other side.
“I need to arrange a meeting,” I say, grim and simple.
“When?” he asks, knowing well that I would never call unless it was serious. Direly serious.
“Immediately,” I tell him and he goes quiet a moment, as Alicia tugs at my arm again.
“Mikhail!” she cries, looking panicked. So I put my arm around her and hold her close.
“You know the place. Tonight,” he says, and that’s it. The call is over.
“You can’t just dump me off with them! Not after what happened last time! I’m no safer with them than I am with you!” she pleads frantically.
“Get ready,” I stress as I finish up pulling on my jacket and then open a back panel behind the clothes in the closet. There I store some guns, ammo, a knife, and other equipment, everything I’d need to take out a small army.
She takes a step back, and I can feel the fear that jolts through her. She’s been with me so long, it feels like, but she’s still surprised by the ugliness I hide. A second later, though, and she’s back at my side, the momentary shock evaporated.
“Holy shit,” she curses, an
d the dirtiness of her words distracts me again, just for a second. I’m not at my best with her at my side, that’s really why I don’t want her there. Protecting her means putting a bit of distance between us so I don’t get fouled up when I need to work.
When I need to kill.
Strapping some guns and knives to my body, I’m wearing a heavier leather jacket to better mask their presence. I give her a small knife, strap it to her calf, and add two small guns, giving a quick rundown of how to use them. Then I guide her to the door, grabbing up some food from the cupboards along the way. It’s all non-perishable stuff, but some protein bars and bottles of water from the fridge will have to do. I’ve not eaten in so long, and I’m still getting over the injuries I suffered, so nourishment will be needed.
I take her on out of the building, down towards the basement garage. I open the door and very nearly guide her out first before my instincts kick in, and I hold her back.
Not a moment too soon, because a shotgun blast rings out, enough to mow down anyone that’d be standing there and leave only a bloody pulp.
“Get back!” I say, pushing her to the wall out of the way. The doors on the other side now, I can’t reach across to close it.
I hold back and wait, but there’s not much more to do. I could take Alicia to the other exit, but there’s a good chance if they found this hideaway, they’ve staked out that exit too and are just as ready there.
Their impatience pays off for us, though, when one of the men comes to the door. I grab his wrists, hit him in the face, and step out into the doorway, using his body as a shield. Another shotgun blast fills the building, but the meaty thug in front of me absorbs the blow with a pained, dying groan.
I raise my gun over the dying man’s shoulder and fire. One shot is all I need again, and the shooter is down, never to get up.
I toss the corpse in my arms into the garage, and another man shoots for it, his itchy trigger finger anxious and aiming for the first sign of movement. These men were sent here to kill me, not capture. Gregor isn’t playing games.
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