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“I’m your first, and I’m going to be your last,zaychik,” Viktor says between heated breaths. “There’s going to be no one but the two of us. Always.”
He turns the rest of his seat to face me, grabbing each side of my hips and pulling me onto his lap. The fire in his eyes spreads to mine as I circle my arms over his shoulders. He scoops my ass into each of his hands and pulls me closer to him, setting me down so I straddle his lap. I gasp as the hardness of his cock presses into me. Our lips brush past each other as I rock my hips over his shaft, begging for it.
Viktor stands with me in his arms and walks to the dining room table, setting me down on it. The sunlight shining inside the apartment makes him look almost god-like as he hovers over me and unzips my jeans. I lift my hips as he hooks his fingers around the waist of my pants and pulls them down. His eyes widen when he sees I didn’t wear the panties he bought me. My face flushes when I remember I refused to put them on as an act of silent protest.
“Is purple not your color?” he asks.
I raise my torso from the table to kiss him, but he pushes me back down, trapping me under his thick hand. He stands over me, rubbing the shaft of his cock as his free hand slips under my shirt.
“If you’re not wearing your panties, you better not be wearing a bra.” His hands climb up my stomach and surround my breasts. A smile spreads across his face when he discovers I left the bra behind, too.
“Naughty,zaychik,” he taunts. He pulls my shirt over my head and lays me back down against the table. Frustration builds in me as he keeps me pinned to the table and unable to touch him, but he leans over me, hovering just above as his eyes rake up and down my nakedness. He lowers himself completely, taking my breast into his mouth and moaning in hunger.
I slide my hand into the waist of his pants, slipping over the band of his underwear. My fingers circle the thickness of his cock and struggle to hang on as I pump my hand up and down his shaft. My pussy dribbles a trail of wetness, aching to feel him. When I can’t stand it anymore, I unzip his pants and pull his cock out, aiming it at my entrance.
Viktor looks at me with a frantic lust in his eyes as he spreads my legs apart and thrusts the full length of his cock into me. His fingers graze back and forth over my clit as he fucks me. I gasp from the sensations. It’s difficult to be ready for a cock as big as Viktor’s, but it feels like it belongs inside me. Sparks erupt inside me with each pass of his cock and my orgasm builds.
“Harder,” I plead with him between broken breaths. I want him to unleash his fury on me. To feel the pleasure mixed with pain, just as I did the night he took my virginity.
Viktor grunts and hooks his hand over my shoulders as he thrusts harder. I scream as my orgasm ignites and blasts through me. Dizziness mixes with the sensation of Viktor fucking me harder than he ever has. His hips slam into mine. It should hurt, but the endorphins flooding my body make it feel like bliss. He bends my leg, resting it on his chest as he continues pounding into me. His grip on my thigh tenses as I hear him grunting. My pussy fills with warmth as he comes, slowing his thrusting with each contraction of his muscles. I feel his cum drip onto the table below me, coating the bottom of my ass. He takes one final slow thrust, pauses, and pulls himself out before collapsing on top of me. We hold each other while we catch our breath.
The mere mention of leaving me behind made Viktor fly into such a possessive rage. I feel wanted, like I belong to him. But even as we hold each other, I urge myself to stay focused. Maybe what Viktor feels right now is genuine, but he doesn’t know my secret.
And I need to be far away from him if he ever finds out.
Chapter17
VIKTOR
The elevators open to boisterous laughter echoing through the foyer. I recognize the voice and make a sharp turn towards it, welcoming anything that might keep the good mood I’m in going.
Kalash is the most animated of Vadim’s men. His voice is so gravely you’d think he ate razors as a child, and he uses it to his advantage. He towers over most men he comes across, casting a thick, muscular shadow over anyone he deems an enemy. The dark hair and facial features offer little welcome to strangers. A thick brush of facial hair covers his jaw and upper lip, adding an edge of mystery to someone not lacking it in the first place.
I walk past the foyer and find Kalash and Sergey sitting at a bar, sharing a bottle of vodka. Sergey sits reclined with an arm slung around the chair next to him. He gives me a slight nod and turns back to Kalash, who smiles and grumbles a deep “eyy,” as a greeting. Kalash has the bottle of vodka in his hand, takes a series of gulps and tops off Sergey’s glass before he offers me the bottle.
“I’m in a whiskey mood,” I say as I head towards the wall of bottles behind the bar. I peruse the offerings and go with a Japanese whiskey I’ve been meaning to try.
“You two really are brothers,” Sergey says, barely over a mumble. He leans back in his chair with a smile tugging at one side of his mouth. “Vadim likes that one, too,” he adds.
I pour a splash of soda and swirl my drink around before taking a sip. “He’s got good taste,” I say.
“So, what do you make of the news?” Sergey asks me.
I narrow my eyes and shake my head. “There’s news?”
“One of the Bratva elders is forfeiting his seat,” Sergey clarifies.
I follow the wood grain running across the bar counter, trying to recall each of the men I met in the bathhouse with Adrik and Vadim, but I don’t know any of them well enough to shake out any apparent motives.
We live in a world where men usually lose power when they’re killed. Living long enough to retire is a foreign concept for me.
I shrug my shoulders. “It’s a bit outside of my understanding.”
“Maybe you can take the empty seat,” Sergey suggests to me. “Your father would probably have been a sitting elder if he were alive, and we could use more influence with those old bastards.”
I swirl a mouthful of whiskey over my tongue before swallowing hard, surprised that Sergey thought so hard over this. “That’s not a life I imagine for myself,” I say before bringing my glass to my lips.
Kalash raises his arm holding the vodka bottle and points a finger at me. “That’s the fucking truth,” he says. “You’d be dead within a year, and it would be from boredom.”
