by Kenya Wright
My uncle and I had come from a long line of betrayed roughnecks. Ancestors that fought their way out. One had to understand that the roots of the Russian underworld went back centuries. Thieves robbed and murdered during imperial Russia. They’d been simple peasants climbing their way out of poverty. They hadn’t been just Russian Robin Hoods immortalized in songs and stories. They had also developed a strict code of conduct among criminals. This code stood the test of time.
Uncle Igor had lived in that code. He’d been vory e zakone—a thief of law.
In 1941, Hitler invaded the Soviet Union. Stalin dangled freedom to prisoners that would join and fight Hitler. Many of the criminals enlisted. When the war was over, Stalin sent them right back to prison. Then a recession hit, people were paid in vodka. Stalin died. Somehow, those betrayed were released. A new breed of criminal came, eating away at the soviet machine.
My uncle was one of those deceived prisoners, and he was also a hero to me and others.
But his life scared me too. The aging and dying. The lack of hair and muscle. The regret and dread in his eyes. The sadness sagging his wrinkles. The cold loneliness moving around him, icing the castle, freezing the stone walls.
He will die like all my other uncles. Either someone will kill him, or he will kill himself.
Before he died, my Uncle Dmitriy told me that his dead daughter haunted his dreams. She’d been killed at ten years old by an enemy. It drove him mad after that. In his last years, he experienced a crisis of conscience. He still killed, but the murders were philanthropic. He took the lives of the bad to equalize the population of good. In the end, he died old and alone. The neighbors had complained of the smell and called the police. He was found covered in his own piss and with tons of dead bodies stacked in his basement.
I won’t be like my uncles.
I would rather die an early death than leave the earth that way. Let twenty men barrel through my room and fill me up with bullets. Let it be that I was outsmarted and outwitted. Let it be that I went down with a gun in my hand and another’s skull in the other.
But I couldn’t die alone. Not this way. Not in a castle full of people who don’t care for me. Not with servants and men who are forced to give me loyalty versus ones who truly care.
“I want your permission to talk to Valentina,” Uncle Igor said.
“You don’t need my permission for that.”
“Yes, but many know it’s not smart to upset her, especially when you’re concerned.”
“Then, I would recommend having a nice conversation.”
Uncle Igor didn’t look pleased. In his day, he didn’t ask. He ordered. Even more, he’d wiped my ass and changed my diapers when he was making the orders. And now, I had grown up, towering over him physically, and had more power too.
This will happen to me one day. My niece or…son…or daughter…he or she will tell me I can’t do something, and I’ll have to accept it.
Uncle Igor snorted. “Your mind is not with me, lev. It’s with the mouse.”
“No, it’s on legacy.”
He snorted again. “Legacy? What is legacy but broken promises and shattered dreams?”
“Your son, Misha is strong in Europe,” I said.
“But nowhere else. He has millions of fake money and believes he’s running the world.”
“Cryptocurrency is very real, Uncle, and Misha dominates it.”
“Still, I want more from my legacy.” He faced me. “Talk to Valentina first. Ask her about who the father is. And then when I talk to her, she’ll be prepared.”
I don’t know about that.
I nodded but made no commitment. There was more going on right now than a discussion on grandchildren and baby fathers.
“Do you need my help, these next days?” my uncle asked.
“Just continue to listen.”
He fanned his face as sweat dripped on the sides. “I hate when we must kill our own, but one must consider that it is more than Sasha coming after you.”
“I agree.”
“Who do you trust?” he asked.
“Not many.”
“Luka?”
“I believe so.”
“How has he been?”
“The same as always.”
“That could be an indicator. Was he not off balance with Sasha’s betrayal?”
“He’s been Luka, never showing emotion, but always there and ready.”
“I don’t want Luka to have anything to do with this, but he’s always been your shadow. Sometimes men do not like to be another’s shadow.”
I nodded.
“And your mouse…” Uncle Igor appeared uncomfortable with talking about her, but he continued anyway, “your mouse will either kill or heal you. Get control of your emotions, when it comes to her.”
I didn’t know why I asked, but I did. “Do you like her?”
“Does it matter?” he asked.
“No, but I want to know your thoughts.”
“To get your attention, she must be the most amazing woman of this world. You’ve never brought anyone here.”
“These are extenuating circumstances.”
“You’re nervous about how you feel about her. You don’t want my thoughts, you want me to tell you everything with her will be okay. You’re scared. When’s the last time you’ve been so scared?”
I didn’t respond.
“On the day your mother died, she said to make sure you found love. I laughed. Now, I know she was right to let that be her last thoughts. And what else could I do but laugh when your mother, such a beautiful woman, left the world on her terms, covered in silk and diamonds, sipping vodka in between bloody coughs?” Uncle Igor sighed. “Your mother’s here. Do you feel her?”
I breathed the steam in. “Yes. That’s why I always come here, after a rough situation.”
“Then, what do you think your mother would say about Emily?”
“They would’ve been friends.”
“If that’s true, then your mouse is crafty.”
“Yes.”
“Hard to control? Hard to guess her next move?”
“Yes and yes.”
“Your mother’s happy.”
“She probably is.”
“I’m hungry.” Uncle Igor rose. “Let’s eat and see how your mouse does tonight.”
I followed him, putting on my robe and leaving in the opposite direction. He didn’t glance back, but I was sure he knew where I was heading.
I only had a few minutes to see her, but those moments would be enough.
Tonight, she would be in my bed. Did she know? Did she understand that all her nights would be mine from now on?
It was another realization I’d just decided on. What was the point of rising in this world without enjoying the moment with someone as intriguing as her?
It took me no time to get to her room. Two young female servants giggled as I passed them in my robe.
I made it to the dark hallway where Uncle Igor decided to host my guests. He’d told me later that I would get the suite on his level. I’d declined for the first time I’d ever visited. If Emily was on the first level, I would be there too.
Luka stood in front of the door. Worry covered his face.
I put my hand on the knob and turned to him. “What?”
He leaned in closer and kept his voice down. “I should be with you.”
“You say this to me as I stand next to you in a robe?”
Luka didn’t enjoy the humor. “There are enemies here.”
“How do you know?”
“How could it not be?”
“I haven’t died yet.”
“Make sure I’m with you or it’ll be guaranteed.”
“Emily is more important.” I patted his shoulder. “Keep her safe.”
Luka scowled. “I like Emily too. She is a…nice girl. But you are more important than all of us.”
“Luka. No. she’s more important.” I leaned his way. “And don’t make me give you
the response that would come, if you said that again.”
Luka looked away from me.
I stared at the knob. “How is she?”
“She’s been quiet.”
Quiet? That’s never good.
I opened it.
The whole time with Uncle Igor had been a focus on death and the strategy that comes with blood and violence. But the sight of Emily bent over a desk and studying her phone…that shit dissolved the tension of the day.
This is why men keep women around. Beautiful asses greeting you at the end of a day.
She shut her phone off and turned my way. “Hey.”
The movement seemed suspicious. No fear lay in her eyes, but mischief wrinkled around the mask of professionalism on her face. She looked like she was just caught doing something wrong at her job but wasn’t sure if the boss knew or not.
“You’ve done something.” I closed the door and studied her.
She didn’t answer because she knew it wasn’t a question. And she wouldn’t provide any information because she knew I damn well didn’t care in this moment. At this point, I needed her naked and in my arms.
Uncle Igor’s feasts lasted for hours. Top people would be there to see if I was really alive. There’d be no alone time with her.
She gazed back at me and didn’t blink, probably ready to give me some prepared explanation to whatever.
I directed my gaze from head to toe, taking her in. Dust covered some of her jacket. Dirt scuffed the tips of her new boots. Tiny scrapes lined her right hip as if she had to slide against a wall.
Naughty little mouse.
For some reason, her mischief made my cock hard. Unable to help myself, I slid my hand along the front of my robe and gripped the hard length. “Take off your clothes. You’ve got them dirty.”
Blushing a little, she looked down at the plush carpeting. Silence filled the space as inch by inch, she raised her hands to that jacket and unzipped it. My heartbeats increased. Impatience burned at my fingertips. Her jacket fell to the floor.
I hissed at the shirt and pants, wanting them off already.
She placed her fingers on the top of her pants. “How was your uncle?”
“We have a lot to talk about tonight, but for now, there’s only your clothes coming off.”
She bit her lip.
“Or…” A slow smile uncurled on my lips. “If we do have time to talk, then we can discuss why your clothes are so dirty when you were supposed to be in your room.”
Smart as fuck, she slipped those pants off fast. Desire built in my chest. They fell to the floor as she slipped her feet out. Long, chocolate legs greeted me as well as that bare pussy.
I did my best to keep my anger out of my voice. “Where’s your panties?”
“On the plane. I think.”
Honesty lay in those words. Jealousy was something new to me, but I was starting to see that I could feel the emotion. Her being without panties shouldn’t have made me think she’d been with another, but still, the suspicion came.
No. Em is too smart. Too loyal.
She pulled the shirt off next, slung that down, and unsnapped her bra in the front. Those lush breasts fell. Her erect nipples bobbed with the movement.
My cock ached, and I couldn’t stay away from her anymore.
I closed the distance between us. I couldn’t wait another second to have her mouth on mine. And when I had her in my arms, naked and warm, I took her mouth hungrily, fire blazing in my tongue, madness drumming in my ears. Her lips parted and all was forgotten—Sasha, whatever mischief she’d done, and any enemy around us.
Our tongues dueled in the most beautiful way. We kissed, chest to chest, consuming the other.
Moaning, she slipped off my robe and undid the towel underneath it. They fell to the floor. Next, she stroked my cock. She knew what drove me crazy, swirl movements around the tip and squeezing at the base. She knew my cock better than me, knew what would make me push her up against the wall and lift that body up.
And so, she drove me to it.
I had her up against the wall in seconds, her thighs spread, my cock driving into her as I groaned. “Mysh.”
I wasn’t sure how or when it happened, but she’d become mine—my mouse, my need, my hunger, my everything.
Pumping into her, I lifted Emily up further in my arms, our mouths slipping against each other. So wet, her pussy hugged my cock perfectly. I couldn’t help but pin her back against the wall. She wound her legs around my hips.
I drove deeper—so fucking deep. Pounding. Searching for the bottom of her. The limit. The moment where I couldn’t be further inside her.
But there was none.
I found her clit and rubbed in circles, pulling a moan from her lips that I quickly swallowed with another kiss. When I pulled away from her mouth, I whispered in Russian, “Why are you so addictive?”
Her eyelids droop in lust as she tried to keep them open.
“Tell me.” I dove my cock into her hard and then slowly pulled away, before driving in her again.
“Kaz.” Em gripped my shoulders and rocked into my rhythm, already getting closer.
Again, I whispered in Russian. “Why did I miss you?”
She moaned, pushing her hands through my hair, unable to say more as I bounced her up and down on my cock.
I switched to English. “Do your mischief, mysh, but never stray too far away.”
Before she could answer, I swallowed her response and then kissed her neck, needing to taste her skin, yearning to have every inch of her on my tongue.
Her words rose on broken moans. “I’ll always come back.”
Weeks ago, I doubt she would’ve said that, no matter how scared she was of me. Weeks ago, she might’ve killed me or escaped somewhere. Weeks ago, I would’ve run away too, not interested in being around any woman for too long.
And now today, everything changed.
“Oh Kaz.” She gripped my biceps and watched me with a desperate expression. The need in her eyes was almost painful.
“Never leave,” I growled as I quickened my pace, feeling her close to losing control.
“I won’t.” She came all over my cock—wet. Slippery. Warm and loud. “I won’t.”
I watched her come, loving the way she drowned in pleasure.
“No one else either.” I alone had to be the one to bring this side out of her.
Moans were the only thing that left her lips. I wouldn’t have heard what she’d said anyway.
My body crashed into itself in orgasmic pleasure. I closed my eyes, died in her, and then was rebirthed. Her pussy was a religion, her body a scripture that I would study every night as I prayed. I wouldn’t put my faith in anything else, but her. My soul would be hers. My body. My power. Everything I possessed, if she let me worship her.
Knocks came at the door.
Groaning, I pushed my cock into her for the last time, spilling cum inside that warm tunnel. Coating all of her. Nasty and necessary at the same time. It felt so good to dirty her. So right to muck her body up with my scent.
I hadn’t planned it.
She didn’t seem pissed.
Another knock came.
“Podozhdite!” I slowly set her down.
She stood on the floor. “What did you say?”
“I told them to wait.”
“Podozhdite,” she whispered back.
“Good, but never say wait to me either.”
She smirked.
I picked up my robe and covered her. “Your robots are here.”
“Robots?” She closed the robe around her, barely able to hold it up. It was too big for her. The material fell by her feet. The sleeves swallowed her shoulders and arms.
“Valentina calls Uncle Igor’s servants his robots.”
“Why?”
“Uncle Igor was always proud that a Czech made up the word robotnik, the origin of the word robot. Karel Capek was a Czech playwright in the 1920’s. It was in his sci-fi drama. So, Uncle Ig
or calls them robotnik.”
“What does the actual word mean in Czech? Is it robot too?”
“No.” I frowned. “It means slave.”
“So, the playwright saw robots as slaves for humans?”
“Something like that.”
She looked uncomfortable. “Is that how your uncle sees his staff?”
“He is surrounded by people who have given their life and loyalty because they are either poor or just plain scared of him. That is the very essence of a slave.”
“So…what about the guy that was chained to the wall?”
“Which one?”
“Uh…there are more?”
“A lot more.”
“Why are they chained?”
“They did something to him.”
She tapped her foot. “So, I shouldn’t check that out…or free them or anything…”
“No, you should not. We have enough going on without making an enemy of my uncle.” I picked up my towel, wrapped it around my hips, and scanned the room. “This room is too small for us.”
She furrowed her brow. “For us?”
“We’ll have to stay in my suite on the higher level.”
She placed a mask on her face, and I didn’t know if she approved or not.
“Hmmm.” I touched her face.
She blinked.
“You’re not my slave, mysh. You’re not chained to me either.” I held her chin and lifted her view to me. “I don’t want your life and loyalty because you’re desperate and scared.”
“You wouldn’t get it that way anyway.”
I smiled. “When you don’t want to be in my bed, say it.”
She shivered against me, and I knew it wasn’t fear. I swore it was desire, pulsing from her body, even though she’d just come.
“Oh, Emily, I want to fuck you again.” I tasted her lips. “You’re lucky your robots are here.”
She blinked again as if she’d forgotten they were at the door. “Why are they here?”
“Valentina ordered several gowns for you to pick from. You’ll need your own credit card, eventually. I know you like to be in control. When we get to Moscow, you’ll have your own accounts.”