How many times did I pump my seed inside her? Three? Four?
I’m a young buck at 33, the youngestPakhanin recent history, but even I have my limits. She wrung me dry, extracting every last drop until I was spent and boneless.
And I still don’t know who the fuck she is.
I shut off the water and step out, wrapping a towel around my waist. Catching my reflection in the mirror, I take stock of the damage. My lips are swollen, the lower one sporting a gash where she bit clean through. A literal man-eater, this one.
My shoulder isn’t much better. An angry purple bruise blooms where she clamped down as she came, hard enough to break skin. It looks like I’ve been mauled by a wild animal. I might need a fucking tetanus shot.
A shrill ringing interrupts my thoughts. Striding out of the bathroom, I spot my phone lighting up on the nightstand. Maksim’s name flashes on the screen.
I answer it with a grunt. “Da?”
“Pakhan, good afternoon.” There’s a hint of amusement in Maksim’s voice, the fucker.
I grab my pants off the floor, sniffing them before deciding they’ll do. “What’s the situation with the club?”
“All clear. No casualties on our side. And get this: not a peep about the shooting in the news. Whoever owns that club must have some deep pockets to keep the media and the cops quiet.”
I grunt, shoving my legs into my pants commando. The lack of coverage is both impressive and concerning. It means we’re not dealing with some small-time player.
“I want a full report on my desk by the end of the day. Club ownership, affiliations, the works. And double the patrols around our borders. I want to know about any new players sniffing around our territory.”
“Understood,Pakhan. I’ll handle it personally.”
I’m about to hang up when Maksim clears his throat. “One more thing, boss. Aleksei has been trying to reach you. Says it’s urgent.”
I close my eyes, fighting the urge to punch something. Aleksei. Papa’s right-hand guy and the pain in my ass who thinks he’s still in charge, even though Papa died four fucking years ago. The old fart means well, but if he tries to tell me how to run my shit one more time, I swear to God I’ll shove my boot so far up hiszadnitsahe’ll be coughing up leather for a week.
“What does he want?” I snap, in no mood for another lecture.
“Didn’t say. Just that he needs to speak with you as soon as possible.”
“Fine. Set up a meeting for this afternoon. But make it clear that I’m not to be disturbed until then. Understood?”
“Da, Pakhan. I’ll take care of it.”
I end the call and chuck the phone on the couch. The bed’s a fucking disaster, sheets tangled to hell and back. Empty bottlesscattered all over the bar, catching the sun like a hangover waiting to happen. But no sign of the brunette who rode my cock like a prize stallion last night.
She’d fucking ghosted before I could even kick her out.Suka, that’s not how I operate. I’m the one who gives ‘em the boot before I pass out, not the other way around.
But this broad…Blyat, she’s not like the others.
I scan the room, looking for… There. On the floor. A glint of gold…
I stride over and snatch it up. It’s an earring, a simple gold hoop. I remember ripping it out of her ear as I fucked her from behind, too far gone to give a shit about anything but burying my cock as deep as it could go.
I roll the hoop between my fingers, and just like that, I’m rock-fucking-hard. My dick throbs in my pants, aching for her tight cunt. For the way she squeezed me like a fist as she came, milking every last drop out of my balls.
Suka. I can almost smell her on my fingers, that intoxicating mix of pussy and sweat and something uniquely her. It makes my nuts draw up tight, makes me want to hunt her down and bury my face between her thighs until she’s bucking against my tongue.
But I can’t. I have an empire to run, enemies to crush under my fucking boot heel. I don’t have time for distractions, no matter how much my cock tries to convince me otherwise.
I shove the earring in my pocket and adjust myself, my dick straining against my zipper like it’s trying to sniff her out. But it’s no use. Every time I close my eyes, I see that goddamn red mask. Feel her slick heat gripping me like a glove. Crave the sting of her nails raking down my back as I pound her into the mattress.
Cyka blyad. I need to get her out of my head before she drives me out of my fucking mind.
I grab my jacket and keys, ready to get the hell out of this room that reeks of sex and her. But even as I stride to the door, my brain won’t shut the fuck up about her.
