Page 51 of Lord of Justice

So in between rounds with my wife on every horizontal surface and a few vertical ones, I've pushed to keep up with the Morozov Legal Division's current court roster, because I need to choose who will handle what cases. I meet with more businessmen. More elected officials. Then I race back into Iris's soft embrace and sweeter pussy.

"Nikandr, would you turn over these cases to Popov and Dushkin in Legal? They're the new head legal counsel. The division neededtwoof them to handle Andrey's job," Dmitri says proudly. "Someone, go find Trofim. He'll be down by the personal assistant's desks, trying out his latest round of sleazy charm. He can show us Andrey's schedule for the next week. If we can't keep him awake-"

"Or out of bed," Alexsey helpfully adds.

"-we might need to handle some of his engagements ourselves." Dmitri stacks the papers in front of him with a sigh.

Last night, I showed my wife how to suck mycock. She kept giggling, saying my pearls were tickling her upper lip, but when I came down her throat, she swallowed it all. Leaning back on her heels, she delicately wiped around her lips to tidy up and then put her finger in her mouth… I was hard again in seconds.

Wait. What did Dmitri say?

Opening my eyes, I find myself alone in the conference room with a bottle of water sitting pointedly in front of me.

There's a buzz as my phone sends me a notification. I'd set it to respond to any media stories about Iris and me.

The Tattler Sees…

Why do we get the feeling new husband Andrey Morozov signed up for twice the trouble with his new wife Iris and her identical twin sister, Rose? They're sharing a moment here with U.S. Senator Carlisle Sinclair.He'slooking happy to see them.

There's a photo, taken fairly close up of the girls in a department store, talking to that rat bastard Sinclair. He's grinning, his gaze no doubt centered right on their breasts. The twins have their backs to whatever snoopy fuck took the picture, so I can't see their expressions. A growlerupts from my chest as I look at their pose; arms around each other's waist, heads tilted flirtatiously together.

My jaw tightens. My wife thinks she can keep playing those cheap little games with her sister? The sheer disrespect that they're using their charm on fuckingSinclair,of all people enrages me.

We'll be having a serious discussion tonight.

***

Yebat' - Russian for fuck.

Chapter Twenty-Four

In which Andrey is a judgey asshole.

Iris…

Andrey has a gym on the second level of his penthouse that is almost too pretty to be used. There are rows of gleaming, silver barbells, impeccable mats, even the well-used hanging weight bag somehow looks distinguished. I’ve watched more than once, misty-eyed as he walked from the gym back to our room. How his sweats hung low, his perfect Adonis belt leading toward his pearled cock.

His back would be rippling with muscle, each one precisely sculpted and the riot of tattoos spreading across his back. A crow on one shoulder with eyes so sharp that I swear it's following me. More tattoos where blood pours from skulls, and another that's a waterfall of gore. Stars for each shoulder. Everything stops abruptly where a shirt's neckline would be, and above his wrists.In a suit, you'd never imagine he’s this dark carnival of muscle and ink.

There's one on his right ribcage that pulls at the corner of my memory. It's a skeletal bat, wings spread, positively vibrating with rage. I can't explain why, but it's uncomfortable to look at for very long.

I've taken to using the rowing machine or the running track when I don't have enough time to launch the USS How Many People are Required to Protect Iris? It's a production that requires four security guards in addition to Melina. I always make sure to wipe everything down and be out of the gym before Andrey gets home.

He's had a lot of late nights recently, so when I hear him say, "We need to talk." I yelp and nearly choke myself with the barbell I was using.

He easily pulls it off me with one hand and sets it back on the rack. Is he angry? It’s hard to tell from his beautiful, remote face. It’s not in his expression, it's more of a glow behind his eyes.

"You're home early," I say, sitting up and trying to regain my dignity and also a towel to wipe my face.

"It seems I have things to deal with here," he says.

"Like what?" I've been sogoodthese last few weeks, the perfect Mrs. Morozova in public andall those endless events. Hell, he should be feeding me cheesecake and rubbing my feet for how awesome I've been.

Taking his damn time to shrug out of his jacket and loosen his tie, he carefully puts them on a clean table by the door before turning to face me again. "There was a gossip piece about you today."

Oh, I'm feeling good and defensivenow. "I've seen several about you, too," I snap. "But you'll notice thatIdon't come storming into your gym session like I have been personally wounded."

His perfectly-shaped brows draw together. "You have?"