Page 55 of Volatile Waters

He touched the screen as if lost in thought. “Valerie? Twenty-two.”

My mouth fell open. “Kirill, she’s legal?” I was almost proud of the child molester.

He smirked while glancing over his shoulder at me. “Yeah, and willing to let me fuck her in the ass any time I want.”

Running out of options, I tapped my fingers on my knee. “You trust her?”

He glanced back to the phone. “I trust no one, Little Yury.”

Every Russian nodded. This was how we survived.

After an exhale, I asked, “If she rented us a house, would it be imperative I kill her?”

Kirill’s upper lip lifted in an animalistic snarl.

Even though Adrian was driving, he saw it. “Oh, shit. Protective?”

“No.” Kirill’s brows bunched in confusion while he stared out the windshield. “Am I?”

“Can I fuck her?” I asked to gauge how hard Kirill had fallen. When he twisted in his seat to punch me, I had my answer. I blocked his blow with my arm. “No?” I laughed. “No need for violence, Kirill. You could just deny me that sweet, tight—” I wasn’t able to block the next blow in time.

But he never got to land his punch.

Crash shook as he held Kirill’s fist in his own.

Junior having my back was sure making it much harder to kill him.

None of us Russians, nor my hostage, were in sight when Valerie rented a large house with plenty of bedrooms. We wanted no trail back to our location. Valerie was so enamored with Kirill; I knew she wasn’t going to tell anyone. After every dancing shift, she would come to Kirill, and they would keep us up all night with their sexual endeavors.

Crash had his own bedroom in the beginning, but it became harder and harder for me to see him. He was a walking billboard of self-sacrifice. It was nauseating to wonder constantly if I would ever do the same. Plus, as annoying as it was, the kid was funny. It reminded me of how fond I was of him, only complicating the fact that I had to kill him. So, I had him put in the two-car garage so I wouldn’t have to see or hear him. That made me feel even worse. I hated the weighted sensation sitting on my chest.

So, I drank a shitload of vodka to numb it. Once I was seeing two of everything, I finally went to bed, only to be kept awake by another hard-core fucking session between Valerie and Kirill.

I hadn’t had a release in weeks, so I burst into Kirill’s bedroom. Stumbling, due to alcohol and confusion as to how I fit into this world, I pointed to my raging hard-on. I slept nude, so there was nothing left to the imagination. “I can’t take it anymore. I’m wound so tight I’m losing my shit, Kirill. So, both of you, shut the fuck up!” I needed quiet so I could fall asleep and stop thinking.

In his bed, Kirill rolled off his naked girl and onto his back, laughing uncontrollably.

Valerie’s head tilted after propping herself up on her elbows, as if reading me. I wanted to look away, but recognition crossed her expression. Her eyes saddened, as if what she saw in me was something that caused her pain. Her pity spoke to me before her words did. “How about a blow job?”

Kirill stopped laughing. “What was that?”

My eyebrows rose as I swayed on my drunk and uncertain feet. “Truly?” It was a sexual promise, but those of us in the sex profession understood the power behind each act. It was for control, bravery, giving pleasure, or causing pain—even mental instability, which I was presently experiencing.

Kirill rolled to his side, resting his hand on her stomach. “Explain yourself.”

She didn’t. She simply said, “Look at him.”

It felt like I was waving a white flag. It was like begging for something to ground me to the earth I no longer could feel under my feet. Sex. Sex was something I knew. I prayed the act would quiet my mind. I put my hands together, and in a rush, reverted to Russian. “Please.” I was desperate for him to hear my need, so I said anything that might convey my urgency.“I won’t soil her mouth. I’ll pull out. I swear it.” We had shared many slaves. I hoped a girl he liked would be the same.

His eyes studied me intensely, like never before. I think he saw past my persona and into my fear. We had our differences, but that didn’t take away from the fact he probably knew me best. I grew up with him watching over me. Even as an adult, he was still watching over me, hence being in America together. It was a raw moment. Silently, I was so exposed.

Fortunately, he heard my insecurities that were also waving my flag of mercy.

Not removing his stare from mine, Kirill’s Master’s tone resonated as he commanded, “Val, on your knees.” Without question, she slid out of the bed and onto the floor, landing on her knees. As she waited, I stayed back, to be sure Kirill was going to let me do this. Our stares still locked, he left the bed and stood in front of her. Blindly, he fisted her hair then growled, “Yury, soil this mouth and I will shoot you. Twice.”

Relief. Pure relief eased from me as I nodded, greedily. “Not a drop will touch her.”

I had never accepted the submissive role, but tonight was like no other for me thus far. So, when Kirill demanded, “Come,” I did, thankful someone was taking charge of my erratic thoughts. I was desperate to feel wet, soft lips around my cock, yes, but also some sort of steadiness that I couldn’t seem to find on my own. I was being haunted by a dancer and the one who loved her—the same one I was soon to murder.