31. Fyodor
CHAPTER 31
FYODOR
It’s been a month since I brought Katya here. In that time, she has made immense progress, and she’s brightened most facets of my life. We spend our time speaking Russian to each other, and despite the immense gap in our ages, I find we share many things in common. While that’s been amazing and filled me with more joy than I could have expected, the other hand isn’t as full. I’m worried for my sons.
I still have not spoken to them since the night in the club, and while I know they’re avoiding me intentionally and are likely okay, my worry for them is a constant ticking in the back of my mind. They’re in trouble, and I threw them in too deep.
While I’m worried for them, I can’t pretend I’m suffering. Katya sleeps in my bed every night. I share my space with her, and I take her everywhere I go. Her beauty is my constant companion, the smell of her sweetening the air around me. Since I’ve gotten her set up with a psychiatrist and on the right medication, everything has gotten easier for her, and her smiles have become a common pleasure.
As a result of all that lovely time spent with her, rumors have spread about our relationship, and I’m not sure how to handle that just yet. My sons certainly aren’t making things easier, as they’ve been loud about the money they feel they’re owed, and to no one’s surprise debts, real or imagined, are a polarizing topic.
For better or worse, it’s clear to people that she’s very important to me. That’s a double-edged sword. It will protect her as much as it will endanger her, and a part of me wishes I could’ve kept her my dirty little secret all along.
I want to give her the world, but the world I have to give her is so tenuous and unsure. I’m a very rich man, and powerful in my own rights, but none of that will ultimately matter in a war with the Bouchards, a war with my own sons if it comes to that. I haven’t felt this conflicted about anything in twenty years and of course its the love of a woman making everything harder and more beautiful.
I decide not to think about that now as I watch Katya walking without her braces. Despite the still cold weather of early spring, it’s bright outside, and the shining sun falls through the windows and covers the spacious office. Of course, my Kotyonok gets only the best care.
She and her physical therapist, Monica, have become quite close since their original meeting, and I tune out their conversation as they laugh together, but I keep an eye on her at all times. I’m not going to give her any real privacy, so it’s the least I can do.
I replaced the braces she arrived with originally with sleeker, lighter models that better support her, but soon even those will be redundant. She’s so close to walking with just the crutches and I’m so fucking proud of her and the determination she’s shown to push through this.
“Fyodor, are you seeing this?” Monica asks, pulling me into their conversation.
“I sure am. She’s incredible.”
Her hands grip the barre, as she shows off her progress and improved strength, moving across the room with effort. Her and the barre have a very different relationship than they used to, but it’s just as helpful. Under her physical therapist’s instruction, she manages to lift herself onto her toes. There’s an implicit grace in her, and it shines even now.
I break out in a round of applause for her as she nails it.
“Yes, Katya!” Monica whoops.
My feet hit the floor as I rush to stand and kiss her cheeks. She falls back to the flats of her feet with a sheen of overworked sweat across her skin as I catch her beneath her arms, and she smiles so wide it’s like the heavens crack open.
“You did so good,” I praise her as I place kisses on her face. “I’m so proud of you.”
Her skin heats under my lips, and Monica clears her throat with a playful laugh.
“Please, Fyodor, it’s no big deal.” She waves a hand at me like my praise is truly silly.
She’s not good at taking compliments, especially for something so small compared to the physical feats she used to be capable of, but we both know she’s full of shit. This is a big deal.
I laugh in her face, feeling brilliantly joyful that her progress is happening much faster than anyone thought.
“He’s right, Katya,” Monica points out, making me even more grateful for her presence.
She still does not believe Katya will be able to dance en pointe, but there’s no reason she won’t be able to dance as a hobby if she so chooses. According to her, she does not choose to and simply aims to be strong and sure on her feet, but there’s nothing wrong with that either.
We settle up her session and the physical therapist leaves before us as is our normal routine. Usually, I help her change out of her sweaty clothes into something she can drive home comfortably in and help her into the braces.
This time, though, instead of rushing to help her, I stare as she peels off her clothing. She’s not so helpless that she can’t do it herself, but I’m usually such an avid participant that she gives me a strange look as I sit there and watch her instead.
“Not going to help me today?” she asks.
“Didn’t seem like you needed it. Doesn’t look like it either.”
“Hmm,” she replies as she continues undressing herself. “What are you thinking about?” she asks me slyly, bending a little deeper than is strictly necessary as she strips.
“I’m thinking about the fact that good girls deserve to be rewarded.”
“I’ve never heard you accuse me of being any such thing.”
“Well, today you’ve earned it,” I tell her as she peels off her panties, leaving herself entirely bare for me.
I’m excited, and a naughty glimmer flashes through her eyes. “Oh yeah? Is there a prize to go with this title?”
“Only if you like having that little cunt eaten.”
She pretends to think about it, but her nipples are already hard. I nod to the medical exam table, where her doctor checks her in before the physical therapist works with her each visit.
“Why don’t you get up there and spread your legs for me?”
She nods solemnly, taking her title of good girl most seriously. Grabbing her crutches, she quickly crosses the room and helps herself up onto the seat. She’s really come into her own in the past month, and it surely doesn’t hurt that I sometimes fuck her three times a day.
She spreads her legs for me, staring into my eyes as she does, and my gaze repeatedly flashes between the part of her cunt and her stunning gray gaze.
I stand from my chair and cross the room with determined strides. I’m so addicted to the taste of her—the smell of her—that if it wasn’t taboo, I would rub her juices on me and wear her like cologne wherever I went.
I drop to my knees in front of her—hungry, desperate, ready. My hands are in front of me, spreading her pussy wide, and I dive in a moment later. It took a couple of weeks for her to be comfortable with me in this position. If I could find the bitch who violated her at my son’s auction, I would kill her too, but she’s in the wind. None of that matters now, though. I’m going to spend the rest of my life making sure she trusts me and is comfortable with me fucking her in any and all positions.
She tries to close her legs and giggles when her knees hit the side of my face. It’s been two days since I’ve shaved, and I know the prickles burn, but what can I say? I’m not a perfect man, and I like to make her squeal, even if it hurts a little bit.
A second later, I’m kissing it all better, tongue quickly moving from her opening to her clit. I’m not actually eating her for her pleasure at the moment, but rather the luscious feel of her most intimate skin under my tongue.
She’s so beautiful. Every part of her body is fuller now that she’s eating and sleeping regularly. She’s healthy, even if she has a long way to go to regain all of her strength. I didn’t have a lot of things to look forward to before. I never thought I’d care for a woman this way again after Sne?ana, and while I feel I’m a different man, I’m glad I was wrong.
She whines, and it’s the prettiest sound. Her blond hair is so long now, and I ache to see it loose around her shoulders rather than tied back. Her fingers wind through my hair as I switch to a rhythmic pass of my tongue more designed for her. When she’s moaning, I switch to fucking her cunt with my tongue, which has the added benefit of positively covering me in her wetness.
“Fyodor, they’re going to come back in.”
“Not before you come,” I tell her as I return to her clit. I slide a finger inside her and find her G-spot, adding a little incentive to her there.
Because she really is the best girl, she comes hard and wet, all over me and the table.
“Oh shit,” she says as she looks at the obvious splash marks on my wet shirt.
All I can do is laugh and help her stuff the paper covering the chair into the trash. There are still some drips of her cum on the floor, but fuck, it only turns me on more.
We leave her appointment and head back to the apartment. I’ve still not reopened the back elevator, so we enter through the main level of the garage and the lobby. The doorman has taken to greeting me, though he thinks I’m a new resident, which is kind of funny.
We head up in the elevator, smiling and chatting, talking about all of the things that are going to happen this coming spring and summer. Making her spend every moment with me could have gone in a completely different direction, and I wouldn’t be that surprised if she had wound up hating me. What actually happened is we discovered we could not be more compatible, and we’d rather not spend the time apart. I have so many big plans for us.
When the door opens, the first thing I notice is the smell. Dust, plaster, construction? What the hell is going on?
Katya tenses, and I worry about her stability on the crutches beside me. Whatever happened here is a thousand times worse for how it’s frightened her. I briefly consider pushing the button and taking her straight back down, but if there’s still someone here, I need to know who’s robbing me, and I don’t trust someone not to be waiting for her down there.
I hit the stop button on the elevator and hold up a hand to stop her from exiting. The downside to her being on crutches is that it’s easier for her to disobey me now.
“What the hell, Fyodor?” she demands.
“You stay right there, Katya.”
Her expression is murderous, but she knows better than to argue with me. Now that she’s in better health, I will spank her ass.
As I step into the apartment, a myriad of destruction unravels before me. Dust floats in the air, and I know this couldn’t have been long ago. I’m hoping the damage is reserved for the first floor, but this amount of anger doesn’t bode well for the whole apartment.
A sledgehammer has been taken to the walls, vases smashed, priceless art pieces torn and thrown to the floor. Tables lay in splinters with smashed china on them. The anger in the actions is so obvious that I immediately suspect my sons. It’s been so long since I’ve seen them that I toss it away just as quickly.
Why be so mad now?
Contrarily, when I step into the hallway leading to my out-of-order private elevator, I find it very much working. Before the doors slide closed, I see the full picture of what went on here.
Inside stand both of my sons, each of them carrying a bag in their hands. Clearly, they robbed me, though. I can’t imagine what they would have prioritized taking, given they’ve destroyed an unimaginable amount of worth. If the goal was to get more fucking coke to sniff, there were more things to take.
Daniil stares at me. His pupils are blown out, and I know he’s high, but his expression begs for my forgiveness. Right now, I’m too angry to even consider giving it to him. To no one’s surprise, I find Irakily staring at me like he wants to kill me.
I know without a doubt which one of my sons was in charge of choosing what to steal and which one was in charge of tearing the place apart.
The doors slide closed, taking my backstabbing sons with it. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to say, and for a moment, all I do is shout.