"I'm gonna fuck you now," he growls, "until you can't walk straight, and you're never gonna be the same woman again."
His words make me shudder, and I don't know what to say in response to that, but my hips lift a little. My body demands to be satisfied one way or another, and drunk me won't be happy unless I have what I want.
Vadim thrusts in hard, sliding all the way to my back wall with a grunt. I groan a deep sound as my walls stretch around his thickness and flutter as he slows and settles himself. He stays buried for a second, letting me adjust, then starts moving in long, powerful strokes that rock the table.
"Perfect," he grunts. "My God, this feels incredible."
I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper as the table wobbles and his hands grip my hips. "Oh God… yes," I whimper, wishing I could reach his sides to pull him in deeper.
But he knows what he's doing. The tiny little thrusts he uses get me right to the edge and hold me there until his hand slaps my ass and sharp heat blooms across my skin. The sting pushes me closer until I’m gasping and ready to let go.
"Fuck, Danica," he growls. "God, your cunt is made for me."
The pressure coils tightly in my core and then his thumb finds my clit, rubbing circles in time with his thrusts. My body tenses, breath hitching, and I arch upward into the sensations as my eyes flutter shut.
"I'm… Yes… Now…" I pant, and all I can do is pull my own hair because I can't find anything to hold on to.
"Come for me," he says. "Let me feel it."
The orgasm hits hard. My pussy clamps down on him in violent spasms, waves crashing through me as my thighs shake and my vision blurs. I groan and mutter curses as my moisture coats us both and the release leaves me trembling.
Vadim groans and his thrusts turn erratic. "Oh, yeah," he groans as his cock swells, then erupts inside me. Hot, thick spurts flood my body. He grinds in deep, emptying every pulse into me with his body shuddering against mine until he's spent.
We stay locked together, breathing raggedly as relaxation sinks into every fiber of my being, and I realize I am far more drunk than I thought. I could pass out right here, splayed out on his kitchen table like I'm his breakfast. But he has the decency to help me.
He pulls out, and I feel a cloth, probably the same one I used to clean his wounds. It wipes across my still-pulsing core and down my thighs. I mumble incoherently as he takes my wrist and pulls me to my feet.
I'm not sure what I expect, but my eyes blink open to see him so close to me, it's startling. "Wow," I moan, and it comes out in a slur.
"Wow is right…" His hands steady me as I sway and reach for the brandy, and he chuckles at me as I have a long swig of it. "Save some for me."
Vadim takes the bottle from me, and I lay my head on his chest as I listen to him drink from it. "Does this mean we're really married now?" I ask lazily, now clinging to him.
"We were always really married, woman. This just means you're mine now." I hear him set the bottle down, feel his arms encircle my body and his lips claim mine. This kiss is just as hungry but not so demanding.
I try to think of something to say, but I can barely stand at this point. Vadim seems to pick up on that, and he stoops to hook his arms behind my shoulders and around my knees as he hoists me off the ground.
I think I'm out before I even hit the bed, dreaming of the way he made me feel.
God, I'm going to regret this in the morning.
11
VADIM
Four days after Miloš Popovic beat me half to death, I'm back on the streets taking care of business. My ribs are a gnarly color of dark purple that has started to go yellow around the edges, and Danica won't stop insisting that I should be staying home to recuperate—just like a real wife would.
Except we've done nothing but fight since that night we slept together. She snaps at me for leaving clothes on the floor. I snap back when she uses all the hot water. But at night when we climb into bed, she curls into me and I hold her until we both fall asleep. That's the part I enjoy the most—holding her in the quiet hours when she's not angry with me or nagging me. I can't say I ever wanted to do that with someone, but now that I am, I can honestly say I don't think I want to sleep alone ever again.
I turn the corner onto Makedonska Street where Jovan and Nenad are working, standing near a parked car talking to two buyers. The exchange looks routine enough, but I hang back and watch before approaching. After losing Boris, we aren't taking any more chances. Popovic and his men really did a number onus, and my men are less confident now, edgy—always watching over their shoulders.
Jovan sees me first and jerks his chin upward in greeting. The buyers hand over cash, and Nenad counts it quickly before passing them a small package wrapped in brown paper. They pocket it and walk away without looking back. It's a successful sale, though we can't be too careful now.
"How much?" I ask as I stop in front of Jovan and hold out my hand.
"Fifteen hundred euro." He pulls the bills from his jacket and hands them over.
I count through the money and check a few bills for counterfeits. Everything looks clean, so I fold the stack and tuck it into my inside pocket. But the confidence is short-lived as we hear car doors slam and turn to see two police cruisers at the curb with their lights flashing. My hand moves toward my gun automatically, but I force it back down.
