The alarm was active.
I stared at the ceiling for a moment.
A wedge. That was what was needed—distance, structure, the deliberate maintenance of the correct dynamic. I couldn’t allow a slip of a girl to complicate a position I had spent years building toward. The lure was physical and physical things were manageable. It always wore off. It had always worn off before.
I put the phone down.
It would wear off.
??????
The alarm chimed and my eyes snapped open. With a yawn I reached for my phone and silenced it. I sat up, scratched my chest and stretched. Sleep could wait. My dick had a mission to accomplish.
I yanked the covers off and went to the bathroom, pulled on my robe and brushed my teeth.
I opened the door to find Tikhon on the chair outside, phone in hand. When he made to stand I raised a hand.
“I won’t need you where I’m going,” I said, and walked past him.
The house was quiet and dark. The sun hadn’t quite risen yet—the kind of early morning where the darkness had just begun to thin at the edges without committing to anything. I passed the staircase and saw Spartak outside Iskra’s door. He stood when he saw me approaching.
“Good morning, Pakhan,” he said, with a single nod.
“You can leave. Bring her breakfast up at nine.” I paused.“Mrs Dragunov may have difficulty walking today.”
His eyes widened. His lips parted. Before he could compose himself further I opened her door and stepped inside.
The faint scent of sex still lingered in the air.
I closed the door carefully behind me and stilled. Breathed in again.
No perfume. She hadn’t bathed. Obedient at last.
I moved to the window and drew the curtain back just enough—a sliver of pale dawn light fell across the floor and reached the edge of the bed without quite touching her. Enough to see by. Not enough to wake her.
I turned.
Her small frame was entirely still beneath the covers, one hand curled near her face, her hair loose across the pillow where the braid had come undone in the night. She hadn’t moved much. The pillows were still roughly where I had positioned them.
I untied my robe and considered my options with the unhurried calm of a man with nowhere else to be.
My instinct as Pakhan had always been stealth. Enter quietly. Assess before acting. Take the advantage that patience provided.
Let’s see how long it took her to wake up and find my cock already inside her.
I eased onto the bed, annoyed when the frame groaned beneath my weight—but her eyes stayed closed. She must have been exhausted. The wine, the sex, the specific drain of a body that had been used thoroughly and told to lie still afterward.
Excellent.
I crept closer, easing her thighs apart beneath the covers, moving into position above her. In sleep her face was unguarded in a way it never was when she was awake—younger, softer, the watchfulness gone. It irritated me. That innocence was of no use to me. I wanted her corrupted and reshaped to suit my world, her edges worn down until she fit the space I had made for her.
But first I needed to break her down.
I lowered myself to her breasts and licked a slow path from the swell of one to the other, pausing to flick my tongue over her nipple. Her chest continued to rise and fall in the steady rhythm of sleep. It didn’t stop me. I worked each peak until it hardened beneath my mouth, her body responding faithfully even as the rest of her remained elsewhere.
Only then did I settle my cock between her thighs.
Only then did I smile—feeling the damp heat of her cradle me, her body already prepared, already mine even in sleep.
