My cock is still inconveniently hard, and as I realise with a combination of horror and pride, smeared with not just her cream, but also… Pink. Blood.
“You were a virgin, then.” I force the careless phrase out. “This calls for a celebration.”
Not pausing to see Taylor’s response, I stride to the door. Taylor gasps as I yank it open.
The guard stationed closest turns, sees I’m naked, dips his gaze instinctively down to below my waist then flushes scarlet when he gets an eyeful of my cock, jutting up.
“Pakhan, sir,” he corrects himself.
Yes, good. Think about the sex I’ve been having with the little virgin dancer. Focus on my enormous cock, and how it compares to yours.
“Mr Morosov. What can I do for you?” The other guard turns, and keeps his gaze on my face.
“Champagne,” I say imperiously.
“I don’t think?—”
I quell him with a cold stare. “Do not think. Get me champagne and strawberries.”
That should cause them some inconvenience. Taylor is still on the bed when I slam the door shut.
I regard her. She’s pulled the sheet over her torso, loose so she won’t get my sticky mess everywhere.
“You look thoroughly debauched, little dancer. How do you feel?”
“Fuck you.”
I grin. She gets it. Keep up the act.
“Yes, I think you will be fucked by me again,” I state with an obvious perusal of her body, even though it’s covered. “You did well enough.” An understatement equal to saying that the London Mafia Syndicate would rather you didn’t touch any of their wives.
“Clean up.” I flick my fingers dismissively. “Don’t forget to pee.”
Confusion and disgust settle on Taylor’s face, but I note how she can’t help but look at my body as she scurries to the bathroom.
She’s as attracted to me as I am to her. It’s the least likely scenario in all this.
I came here intending to stave off boredom and having some men in my debt by bringing home their wives’ sister.
Instead, I’ve found… Zhizn moya. My reason for living. My soulmate, for lack of a better word.
I hear movement in the bathroom, and satisfied she’s taking my advice, I return to the door.
“Where is the champagne?” I bark as soon as it’s open.
The guard jumps, and I can’t help but grin to myself as his gaze goes straight to my crotch.
Yep, still impressive, even soft. Distracting, almost, which is the point.
“On its way.” The guard indicates the stairwell where the other guard has gone on this errand.
“How long have you been with Volk?” It’s going to be a pity to kill him, but I’ll have to. He’s young and stupid. But if that’s the price of getting Taylor out, then fine.
He stammers out a response. The other guard will be more of an issue, I think.
The plan is simple. Be annoying, demanding, and distracting to the guards. Have them so exasperated by my repeated but reasonable requests that when I finally open the door fully clothed to escape with Taylor, they’ve expected a naked guy asking for mineral water, not a dangerous mafia boss who will slit their throats silently and disappear into the night.
Or, more accurately, away in a car parked across the street with one of my men waiting to take us to my helicopter. Fromthere, we’ll swap, to another helicopter in Eastern Europe, then to my private jet at another location. The jet is currently on the airfield just outside the city and will take off as soon as we’re safely in the helicopter.
