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It takes everything in me not to go back into the room and ravage her body again. My cock is soft, clinging damply to my naked thigh, but I know I’d be hard again in no time from the sight of her naked and covered in my cum, her voice spitting curses at me. Her fight is one of the most erotic things about her. I’d once thought she might plead and cry, but this is a thousand times better.
You should be making plans to take her to New York. To give her to Viktor as you planned, for him to finish her off in recompense for what Obelensky did to his wife.
It would be the easiest, quickest path to the end. I’ve tormented Natalia, taken my pleasure from her, terrified her and shown her how helpless she was in the face of my vengeance, how nothing can save her from paying for her father’s sins. Viktor could finish the job, I could give him the information about Obelensky that would clear my name from having been any part of that coup, and then I could simply wait on his apology and the proof of Natalia’s death to send to Vladimir.
I could wash my hands of all of this.
The resistance that I feel towards the idea, as I walk down the hall to one of the guest suites, is instantaneous.
I’ve looked forward to this moment for so long. I’ve plotted every moment of her capture, followed her and watched her, spent the money necessary to make her believe I was nothing more than a rich man wanting to spoil a woman he’d fallen in lust with. I’d taken it all slowly, even as I’d burned with desire for her, waiting for her to want it, toneedwhat I could give her. To accept that she wanted more than just my money.
I’d only fucked up once. And even that, I’d managed to get her to forgive.
I step into the bedroom, tossing my clothes onto the bed and head for the shower. I’m almost loathe to do so–I’m not ready to wash her sweet scent off of me–but the hot water will help to clear my head.
I shouldn’t feel confused. The path ahead of me is clear. I’ve succeeded in kidnapping her, succeeded in tricking her so that I could have that glorious moment of her shock and horror when she realized how foolish she’d been–and now it’s time to finish the job.
So why does it feel so anticlimactic?
I look around the massive bathroom as I turn on the hot water, as big as the bedroom in the apartment I’d stayed in prior to the penthouse. This entire house is mine to do with as I please, for a little while, and my mind drifts to the ways I could torment Natalia in a place like this, far from anyone who might find us, from anyone who could rescue her. The ways I could stretch out her fear, her dread, until I finally turn her over to Viktor as agreed.
There’s no reason I can’t play with my food a little before the end, is there?
I don’t want to give her up so soon, now that I finally have her. Just the memory of her soft, warm, straining body in the throes of her pleasure is enough to make me ache all over again, and the thought of letting her go already, of not continuing to slake my lust for her in any number of ways, feels like a punishment–not the reward this is meant to be for all my patience and careful planning.
You’re obsessed, Kasilov. You have been all this time. This is just an excuse to continue playing a game that should have reached its end.
I groan as I step beneath the hot water, tipping my head back to let it drench my hair. There’s no time limit on this, although I know Vladimir won’t wait patiently forever to hear that she’s dead. But I know he hadn’t expected me to have her captive so soon, in just one night after getting the keys to the house.And besides,I think with swelling resentment,this ismymark. My plan. My captive. Not even Vladimir can tell me what I should do with her between now and when I hand her over to Viktor to die.
He’s not my fucking boss, after all.
Why should Viktor get to have all the fun?If what I’ve heard about his new leaf is true, he’ll likely give her a quick end. Just the fear of knowing her death is coming, and then a bullet.
It’s not enough.
I close my eyes, the faces from the picture I carry with me filling my head, leaving me with only anger burning inside of me. Mika’s sweet face, her platinum hair loose around it, her arms around the smiling, giggling boy in her lap. Those sounds of laughter, that joy, cut off far too soon by Konstantin Obelensky.
All because I wouldn’t agree to help him overthrow Viktor’s Bratva. All because of my loyalty.
How has that served you this past year?
I deserve more. I deserve the pleasure I crave, to savor the revenge I’ve worked for. To see Natalia every bit as terrified and panicked as the ones whose torment and deaths she was complicit in.
You’re just as guilty as your fucking father. And I don’t even mind that he’s dead any longer, even if it was him who I really should be hurting, for what he did to them. You will be so much more pleasurable.
I’ve suffered long enough. I deserve this.
The water sluices over me, loosening my muscles and relaxing me. I can feel the decision settling in, the choice to keep her here a while longer. To indulge in what I want.
Besides, if I take her to Viktor so soon, she might convince him that this is all a lie. That I’ve brought him the wrong person, that I’m lying to him to save my own skin. I hadn’t believed a word of her ridiculous story, the one where she insisted on calling herself Ekaterina and made up a sad tale about her parents, but that doesn’t mean that Viktor couldn’t be convinced.
Especially if he’s grown more soft-hearted since Caterina was rescued, as I’d heard.
Natalia can be seductive, charming, convincing. I have no proof other than her, and if things went wrong, she could be my downfall instead of my salvation.
Then Viktor would kill me. That’s not the way I’ve planned for this to end.
I linger in the shower for a little while longer, satisfied in my decision. I’ll take what I’ve earned, enjoy the spoils of my victory, and when I’ve decided that I’ve had enough–when I have the proof of who and what she is–I’ll finish this as I’d intended to all along.
