Suddenly, the annoying voice of the fake-lipped woman brings me back to the present. “Congratulations, handsome. Here’s your prize.” She’s trying so hard, batting those ridiculous fake lashes at me. She thinks she’s got my attention, but all I see is the rawness of that other woman, the fire. The realness in the face of danger.
She presses the $10,000 cardboard to my chest, her nails like talons on my skin. I shove it back at her, feeling a flare of disgust.
“Give it to that dude.” I jerk my thumb at my beaten opponent, bloodied and moaning on the floor. “I’m not here for the money.”
Her eyes widen, her lips forming an exaggerated “O.” She shakes her head. “But darling, it’s $10,000! Think of what you could do with all that money!”
Money. I have plenty now.
Millions even.
That’s not the point.
I see her pout, those absurd lips puckering like she’s sucking on a lemon, but I don’t give a damn. My mind’s already drifting back to the past, to the time when money was everything.
I turn from her, her fakeness turning my stomach, and head for the door. No looking back.
I was raised by thepakhan, Luka’s father.
He’d brought me over to the US. He saw something in me, a spark that no one else had cared to notice. A lost boy fighting in grimy alleys for a fistful of dollars to feed my family. My father’s drunken rages, my mother’s hollow eyes…they drove me to the edge. But Luka’s father, thepakhan, he pulled me back. He saw something in me no one else did.
Aleks took that from me. He killed thepakhan, killed the only father I’d ever known.
“I know you’re angry, Dimitri, but we have to be careful. We can’t let emotion cloud our judgment.” Erik’s voice breaks through my thoughts, bringing me back to the present.
“Emotion?” I snort. “This is not about emotion. This is personal. It’s about loyalty, about honor. Aleks will die by our hands tomorrow. That’s a fucking guarantee.”
∞∞∞
I can’t shake the image of her from my mind. I’m back in my room now, a place of steel and shadow, the walls lined with weapons, a dark sanctuary that’s mine and mine alone. The air smells of gun oil and leather, mixed with the underlying scent of sweat from countless hours of training. But even here, in my private fortress, she invades my thoughts.
I rip off my shirt, the fabric tearing as I throw it across the room. It lands in a crumpled heap next to a stack of cash and ammo. The frustration is eating at me, and I need to get it out. My punching bag is there, waiting, and I attack it with everything I’ve got. Each punch is an explosion, a release, but it’s not enough. It’ll never be enough.
My body’s a traitor, a fucking bastard that doesn’t care about anything but its own desires. I storm to the shower, ripping off my jeans, my cock already hard and aching. It’s a torment, a thick and veined monster that hasn’t reacted like this in a long damn time. The sight of it, pulsing with need, the head shiny with pre-cum, has me snarling with frustration.
I turn the shower on, cold as ice, and the freezing spray hits my back, but it does nothing to quench the fire raging inside me. My cock throbs, aching for release, and my balls pull tight against my body as the desire surges through me. Every part of me is alive, on fire, and it’s all because of her.
I grab my length, squeezing hard, trying to force the images from my mind. But it’s no use. The thoughts of her, untamed and fearless, covered in blood and brandishing a knife, are burned into my brain. She’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen, and my body reacts to her with a primal need that scares me to my core.
The fantasies are filthy and consuming, so raw and real that I can almost taste her. I imagine her lips, not the fake ones from earlier but her real, sinfully plump lips, sliding down my cock, inch by brutal inch. Her tongue would be skilled, fearless, tracing the veins on my shaft, tasting the pre-cum leaking from the tip.
I’d shove myself into her mouth, fucking her throat without mercy, feeling her gag on me, hearing the sounds of her choking and still pushing deeper. Her tits would bounce fiercely with each thrust, her nipples hard and begging for my touch. But it’s her mouth I’m obsessed with, her mouth that’s covered in blood and I don’t give a shit. I just keep pounding her face, balls deep, holding her head and using her for my pleasure.
I pump my cock, stroking it as hard as I can and imagining her gagging. With a guttural grunt, my hips jerk uncontrollably as I explode, my cum shooting out in thick ropes, splattering against my stomach and the shower wall. There’s no poetry in it, no romance, just the pure, primal satisfaction of a need fulfilled. I gasp for breath, my heart pounding in my chest as I turn the heat up in the shower. I wash myself off, scrubbing at my skin like I can somehow erase the filth of my thoughts.
Chapter 17
Sophia
Luka’s mansion’s gone through a total makeover, and it feels like I’m trapped in some over-the-top reality TV show. Giant golden balloons are everywhere, chandeliers dripping with crystals, and there’s enough glitter on everything to make me squint. The maids are running around with golden swags and potted plants, turning the garden into something out of a fairy tale.
“Watch where you’re going!” one of them barks at me as I almost send a ladder crashing down.
“Sorry!” I yell back, faking the frantic energy in the room. It’s chaos in here, and all I want to do is get through the day without getting run over.
But there’s a storm in my head, a chaos I can’t escape. I’m walking a tightrope, and one slip could ruin everything. Like tipping off Anya about today’s plan? That fear gnaws at me.
My palms are sweaty, my heart’s racing, but I can’t let anyone see that. I scan the room, looking for Anya, but she’s vanished.
