FILTHY SINS_Sons of Wolves MC

by Nicole Fox

  Sergei is the picture of a gentleman right now. Contrite, genuine. He seems very calm today, not as manic as I’ve seen him lately. I’m wary, of course, not nearly dumb enough to fall for it. But I play along.

  “Well, I understand that things have been stressful. I accept your apology,” I say.

  “Thank you,” he says. “Will you let me take you to dinner tonight? A true apology? No ulterior motives? I really do value your company.”

  “I, uh,” I wasn’t expecting this, and I do not want to go to dinner with him again. Still, maybe I can get him talking, find out more about what he’s got going on with this illegal side game he’s playing. I need to talk to Finn about this, be prepared. “I can’t tonight. But I think I’m free tomorrow?”

  He gives a short nod. “Tomorrow is perfect. I’ll make a reservation. We can leave straight from work.”

  I make a noise of affirmation and he wanders off toward his office, whistling. I eyeball him suspiciously. He never whistles. If I thought he was just a normal guy, I might guess that his breakfast meeting was really a booty call, that maybe he finally worked off some of that pent-up sexual energy.

  He has me doing some filing today, organizing accounting documents and filing them with various business accounts. Nothing extraordinarily exciting, but normal. Which is fine. At one point, he asks if I’ve ever played golf. When I say no, he offers to take me golfing sometime.

  It’s all very odd. Sergei is acting too normal, too happy. On a normal day, let’s say the first week I worked here, he was mercurial at best. He yelled a lot, was always teetering on a meltdown, usually to do with something going on overseas. On very bad days, well, he was downright abusive. Yesterday was one of the very bad days.

  It’s making me totally on edge. At lunch, he asks me to run out and get him some Chinese takeout, and I’m happy to get out of his range. I walk a couple of blocks to his favorite place and place the order. While I wait, I send a text to Finn.

  Me: SK is weird today.

  Finn: Weird how?

  Me: Nice. Happy. Offering to take me golfing.

  Finn: That’s weird for sure. You okay?

  Me: I’m OK. He’s asked me to dinner tomorrow night.

  Finn: Hmm. Talk later.

  The smell of Chinese food makes my stomach turn. Normally I really like it, but for some reason, I’ll chalk it up to pregnancy, it makes my stomach lurch. I run to the restroom and throw up. When I come back out, Sergei’s food is ready. I stop at the coffee shop nearby for some peppermint tea, hoping it will calm my stomach.

  When I arrive back at the office, Sergei is very polite, thanking me several times for getting his lunch. He whistles some more while he eats at his desk.

  By the end of the day, I’m exhausted just from having my red flag up for so long. I’m so weirded out by his behavior that it’s nearly sending me into a full-blown panic attack. He leaves at five on the dot, cheerfully saying he’ll see me tomorrow. I let out a long breath as soon as he’s gone and have to sit for a full five minutes just trying to get my anxiety under control.

  When I get home, Finn is there. I’m relieved and he must sense it because he pulls me into his arms, into a hug that I really, really needed.

  ***

  Finn

  I’ve only been here for like twenty minutes. The whole time, I was wishing I could have just picked her up from work. Even though she texted me to let me know she was walking home, I still couldn’t relax until she actually walked into the door.

  There’s a group of guys I play basketball with a couple of times a week out in Queens. I’ve known them since, like, grade school. I don’t really have friends, not in my line of work, but they’re the closest I’ve got. And I know they’d be calling me pussy-whipped for sure if they knew just how much energy I’m putting into worrying about this one woman.

  Selena. I think about her all damn day, it seems. And while I’ve only been around her for a few days now, I feel like she’s been in my life a lot longer. I’m having a hard time imagining ever being comfortable just saying goodbye and sending her out into the world on her own.

  It’s not that I see her as some kind of wounded animal, incapable of surviving on her own. Quite the opposite, actually. She impresses me. She’s smart. She’s obviously navigated around some very difficult men. I think she’s never had a real chance to excel on her own. Her star is only just starting to shine.

  When she walks in, I can see the stress etched into the lines of her face. I can’t help but pull her into a hug and I just hold her there for what seems like an eternity.

  When we finally peel apart, she wanders to the bedroom to pull on some yoga pants and a T-shirt. I raise an eyebrow and she says, “I’ve got to go to my Thursday night yoga class. I haven’t worked out in days and my anxiety is like level ten right now. Exercise helps.”

  “It’s too dangerous,” I say.

  “No, it’s not,” she says. “Sergei’s planning for dinner tomorrow night, right after work. He’s not going to do anything in between now and then.”

  “Well, where do you go for yoga?” I ask.

  “Don’t be such a nervous nelly,” she says.

  “Nervous … nelly?” I ask, feeling my face twist into a half-smile.

  She flips me off. “It’s two blocks away. I’ll be back in an hour and a half. And I’ll bring home dinner. There are some papers in my bag for you to look over while I’m gone.”

  She pulls on her tennis shoes, grabs a bag and a mat, and kisses me on the cheek as she walks out the door.

  It’s such a normal thing to do, right? To kiss someone on the cheek and go do a thing? Anything? Yoga. Go to work. Go run errands. But I’ve never had it before. I never thought I would have it.

  I shouldn’t have it. Shouldn’t want it. I’m still not convinced that letting myself care is a good thing. This is probably going to end very badly for both of us.

  The papers she’s left behind are doozies. Just exactly the kind of evidence we need. I organize everything as best I can, trying to figure out just exactly how I want to set up my takedown of the great and mysterious Sergei Kovolov. All of his secrets are exposed here, and there are a lot.

  I’ll have to ask Selena how she got all of this information, but first I want to make her come as a reward until she passes out. There is so much information here, I could probably get him sent to maximum-security prison on several life sentences. Good thing I don’t want that. I only want a whole lot of his money.

  There is a corrupted page that didn’t print right that I decide I really need. A list of cops on the Kovolov payroll. If I’m going to extort money from him with a threat of going to the Feds, I need to know which ones are on his payroll and which ones aren’t. He needs to know that I know who to talk to. I’ll have to ask Selena to dig one more time tomorrow. Once I have that list, we’ll be golden.

  She returns from yoga looking more relaxed than I’ve seen her.

  “How was yoga?” I ask.

  “Blissful,” she says. “You should try it sometime.”

  I laugh out loud at that, at the thought of twisting my giant body into a pretzel. Selena looks shocked and I ask, “What?”

  “You’re laughing,” she says. “Smiling. I’ve never seen you smile or laugh before.”

  I raise an eyebrow at her.

  She pushes her lips to one side and raises her eyebrows right back, then turns away, heading into the kitchen to get plates out for dinner. I watch her plate up our takeout Italian meal and feel my gut do its own twisty yoga thing. I like this woman. Care for her. Fuck. I am in so much trouble.

  After dinner, we watch a movie in her bed. She lays her head on my chest and it feels right. Good. Comfortable. I try to pay attention to the movie but I can’t. I keep thinking about how we should just pack up and disappear. I can liquidate everything I have at a moment’s notice. I can get us a car nobody recognizes. We can drive across the country, stay in shitty hotels until we find a little town we like, one th
at’s out of the way, where no one will find us.

  When I can’t take it anymore, I push her to her back and lift her shirt over her head. Her bare breasts are so perfect, they spread out on her chest, the air puckering her nipples. I suck on both of them, paying great attention to her moans and sighs and the way her hips buck as she gets more and more aroused.

  I kiss at her navel and nip at her pelvic bones. I push two fingers inside her sopping wet cunt. She loves it. She spreads her legs further apart and I dip my head between her thighs, lapping at her swollen clit, dipping my tongue between her folds, onto her taint, and back to meet her sweet little asshole. She cries out at the attention, no doubt the first time anyone has ever come near that little brown hole.

  I continue working her pussy, pushing her closer and closer to the edge before I finally slip a pinky inside the smaller hole. She gasps and stills, but then begins to ride my fingers. She loves it, and I feel her pussy walls tighten around my fingers as her orgasm starts.

  “Come for me, Selena,” I say. “You love it. You love this.”

  She moans and comes and as she slowly unclenches, I replace my fingers with my cock, her moans getting louder. She comes instantly, a vise around my cock that feels so, so good.

  “You are so perfect,” I say. “You come like a champ. You feel so good.”

  “Fuck me, Finn,” she says. “Hard. Don’t be gentle.”

  I give her what she wants, her legs pushing back, way back toward her shoulders. She’s nearly bent in half as I ram into her, her cries so loud, so perfect. And when I shoot my load, I roar like a motherfucking lion. I feel like a king.

  Selena is boneless when I slip out of her. I get a warm, wet washcloth and gently clean her up. She’s still so sensitive as I wash between her legs, and she spreads wide again, her head back on the pillow, hair splayed out all over the place. Her eyes are closed and her hips move in small circles. She wants more.

  “Again?” I ask with a chuckle. She moans and, not one to disappoint, I slip inside her again, kissing her as I move much more slowly this time. We make love. Our eyes meeting as we kiss, we taste each other’s tongues. I move in and out as she pushes her pelvis up, her engorged, sensitive clit rubbing against me, sending ripples of orgasm through her that are so strong, they raise gooseflesh all over her beautiful body. I’ve never had a woman who was so responsive, so perfectly suited to me in bed. Her pleasure becomes my pleasure. When she pushes me to my side, we face each other, her leg thrown over mine, our bodies meeting in the middle, a rhythmic type of dance that allows me to see every face she makes, every expression that accompanies every twitch of her cunt around my cock.

  It feels like a dream, like some kind of waking dream that can’t be real. This wanting, this ecstasy, it doesn’t stop for me, even after I come again, this time finishing in her mouth at her insistence.

  Later, after a long bath, I get her a glass of water and climb into bed, under the covers, with her. She snuggles up against me and kisses the stubble on my chin. Her eyes are closed and her breathing deepens before I can even say a word.

  I spend the whole night going back and forth in my head. Flight or fight. Leave or stay. I should not want her like this. I should not care about her like this. This is not a long-term thing. She is not safe with me. She deserves better than me. I am going to end up getting her killed. We can’t go through with this. It’s too dangerous. I need to send her away.

  By morning, I’m no closer to knowing the right answer. I slip out early, sending her a text that I need to attend to a few things at home. It’s true. I haven’t been in Queens for a few days and I do have an actual business to run. Also, I need some distance.

  I’m probably a prick for just leaving like that, after a long night in bed together, or real intimacy. I find myself thinking about the last time I let myself get emotionally attached to a woman. Her name was Becca. She was nothing like Selena. I know this now, and I’m thankful for it. But I still see twenty ways this thing could go sour.

  Believe me, I’ve had plenty of sour deals. I’ve been in plenty of precarious positions, some that nearly got me killed. But I’m playing on a whole new level with this guy Kovolov, and now I’ve got someone I care about involved, as well. The guy deserves to be taken down. He does. And the potential payout here is huge. But taking him down means that the entire Kovolov operation comes after us. After me. After Selena. I can only hope that things don’t go terribly wrong.

  I decide to send her another quick text as she gets her work day started.

  Me: Get to work OK?

  Selena: A-OK

  Me: Sorry to run out. Had to check things at work.

  Selena: No biggie.

  Me: Boss there?

  Selena: Affirmative. Being very nice again.

  Me: Feeling OK?

  Selena: Meh. Too much excitement last night. Muscles are barking. Stomach cramping. Threw up three times. Not awesome.

  Me: Sorry.

  Selena: It will pass. TTYL.

  It will pass, she says. Let’s hope so. My father used to say, “The only path forward is forward.” So I decide to go about my business, checking in with a few clients and working on my books for a bit before heading to the gym. Pounding the shit out of a punching bag sounds really good right about now. Then I’m going to go back into Brooklyn to talk to a guy I know who knows a few things about extortion.

  The only path forward is forward. Let’s do this thing.

  Chapter Eleven

  Selena

  I am a dutiful assistant for the next week. Sergei has me scanning a billion documents, most in Russian, that he says are the purchase agreements for a competitor’s shipping business. He tells me this competitor has military-grade ships and that he plans to use them primarily to guard his shipments from attack.

  “Why don’t you just equip your existing ships with better weaponry?” I ask.

  “They have weaponry,” he says, “And armed guards lining the decks. That is not the point. Some of our shipments are priceless; we need all of the protection we can get. Each rig is now going to travel with a fleet of destroyers. And buying a competitor also puts me in a better competitive position with clients.”

  “Building a monopoly on high-stakes shipping, are we?” I ask. Then, because he seems like he’s in a good mood, I ask, “What could you possibly be shipping that would require a fleet of destroyers?”

  Wrong question.

  Sergei is up in my face in half a second, his fingers digging into my chin as he grips me hard enough to cause a bruise. “What the fuck do you care?” he spits.

  “I was just making conversation,” I say. “I’m sorry. I’m interested in learning more about business.”

  “You do what I tell you and nothing else,” he hisses. “Don’t fucking ask questions. You’re just a fucking secretary.”

  “Yeah, okay,” I say, my heart about to jump out of my chest. “Of course. I’m sorry.”

  “You know,” he says, his grip loosening. His hand moves to stroke my cheek, his thumb tracing my lips. “You are beautiful. But beauty is not a job qualification. I could have you gone tomorrow.”

  “I know,” I say. “I’m sorry. I know better than to ask questions. I need this job, Sergei. Please forgive me.”

  He steps back and his hands hit his thighs with a slap. “Why don’t you get on your knees and prove to me why I should keep you.” It’s not a question.

  “I don’t … Sergei …”

  “Where’s that can-do attitude?” he asks, his voice syrup-sweet and full of venom. “You need this job so bad? Need those good paychecks I sign every week? Then get on your knees and show me why the fuck I shouldn’t just go find someone else to do this job?”

  I lower myself to my knees, my skirt bursting at the seams. He loosens his belt and unzips his pants. When he pulls out his cock, I almost gag. It’s only semi-hard. He rubs it a few times before nodding. “Get on with it.”

  Tears burn at my eyes as I take his nearly-
flaccid dick in my hand, then into my mouth. I choke back my gag reflex as the tears spill down my cheeks, which are hot with humiliation. He gets harder as I go, and I just try to imagine Finn in order to make myself go through the motions.

  Sergei at first looks bored, but gets more excited as the act continues. He closes his eyes and pumps his hips a bit. It only takes a few moments before I feel the hot liquid of his release shoot into the back of my throat. He lets out a moan, pulls out of my mouth, and suits himself back up.

  “Stay on your knees,” he orders, shoving his forefinger into my face. “Ask me one more question, piss me off one more time, and having my cock in your mouth will feel like a gift.”