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She frowns like that’s the most ridiculous thing she’s ever heard. “What?” she scoffs. “My father is a businessman. He doesn’t deal with men like… you.”
Poor thing. She has so much to learn. And she’s not going to like what she does learn.
“Your father conducts business with all sorts of people, including those of us who control large territories. He has made the mistake of breaching ours. Unfortunately, he has to be taught the hard way that sort of behavior is not tolerated. Especially by us.”
She laughs through her nose, unwilling or unable to accept the truth.
“Abby,” Ilya says, “of course you think your dad is a good guy, as every daughter should. But you don’t know everything about him.”
She shakes her head violently. “No.Youdon’t know. I’m joining his transport company after I finish college. I’ve worked there every summer, and he’s promised to make me a partner in a few years. It’s all set.”
“Abby, if your dad doesn’t clean up his shit, he won’t be around in a few years.”
She covers her mouth like someone hit her, and stifles a sob. “Is that why… I am here? If he doesn’t do what you want, you are going to kill me?” Her voice breaks and tears trickle down her cheeks.
It’s not easy to learn your dad is a crooked fucker. But seriously. She worked there every summer and had no idea what was going on?
I have to say I’m impressed with Madden’s operation. Very discreet. Very smooth. We could all learn from that.
Her shoulders shake from her sobs, and I admit, I am tempted to take her into my arms for comfort. She seems like a sweet kid and shouldn’t have to answer for the sins of her father. But it happens all the time with guys like Madden. She’ll be cleaning up his messes for as long as he’s alive, and probably for a long time after.
Comforting her isn’t the only reason I want to take her in my arms though, truth be told. She’s different. Beautiful and elegant, without even trying. Those French girls couldn’t hold a candle to her with their over-the-top efforts to attract men.
A little mystery is the real aphrodisiac. A little restraint. A little coyness.
Fuck, I should write a book for women about what men want. Which is such a dick thing to say.
But I’ve seen the way she looks at the three of us. I know we’re not bad-looking guys. We’ve been known to attract what I’ll call female attention. And speaking for myself, I find Abby equally appealing.
I know I shouldn’t act on it, but for fuck’s sake, Bogdan and Ilya already have, the fuckers. There’s no way I’m denying myself, that is, if she’s wiling.
I don’t force myself on anybody.
I take a final bite of the incredible lamb chops Chef prepared, finishing just as Abby really starts losing her shit. I mean, sobs, gasping for air, beet-red face, snot running from her nose. All of it. And I know just what to do to calm her down.
I stand up and extend my hand. “Come,” I say.
* * *
I don’t wantAbby to think I’m a monster. I don’t know why. I usually don’t give a shit what people think about me. But there’s something about her I can’t put into words, which I’ve never been good with anyway, so it’s no surprise.
“Come on,zolotse,” I say quietly when we’re in my room.
This is when I wish I could draw a hot bubble bath for her. But we don’t have a tub on the yacht, so a nice shower will have to do.
I take her into my bathroom, and ease off her clothes. Her crying has slowed somewhat—she can at least breathe without gasping now—but her face is distorted and bright red, and when she wipes away the nonstop tears, her hands shake. I turn the shower on and guide her under the stream of water, remove my clothes, and join her.
Because we’re on a boat, the shower is tight. But that’s a good thing, because she turns and buries her face in my chest. I make sure the water is keeping her warm while I softly sing her a Russian folk song, the same one mybabushkaused to sing to me.
While she faces me, I take shampoo and lather up her hair, making sure to keep it out of her eyes, and I run my fingers through her curls to get it all out. Then I rub soap over her, slowing when I get to her breasts.
I turn her to face away and press my hard cock into her ass crack. My touch has calmed her, her shaking has stopped, and she lets the shower water run down her face to wash away her tears.
I rinse the soap from my hands and run them over her slick, wet skin until I reach her core. Pressing a finger between her pussy lips, I find she’s wet, and not just from the shower. Dipping a finger inside her lets me know she’s as turned on as I am.
I move my finger back to her clit, now hard and erect, and make slow circles with two fingers. She immediately relaxes into my embrace, dropping her head back on my chest, moving her shoulders in rhythm to my strokes.
A small whimper escapes her lips. She reaches for the grab bar on the wall, which gives her purchase. Now she can move her hips, and she begins to grind against my hand.
