Chapter 10 - Dmitri
Chapter 10 – Dmitri
Gently, I push Valentina back onto the bed, holding her slender wrists above her head with one hand, feeling her pulse flutter beneath my palm.
I take a moment to admire her beauty—her dark hair spilling across the pillows, her cheeks flushed, and her lips parted in anticipation. A slight smile curves my lips as I hover over her, feeling the heat radiating from her body.
Slowly, I let my gaze wander down her body, taking in the smooth, creamy skin and the swell of her breasts. My fingers glide over the delicate fabric of her lace panties before tugging them down her legs, baring her completely. She shifts slightly, but I keep her pinned gently, enjoying the sense of power I have over her.
I lower my head, tasting her with my tongue. Valentina tastes even better than she looks. Her scent fills my nostrils, and her taste lingers on my tongue as I explore her with my mouth. She's exquisite, and I want to devour her.
Her breath catches as my tongue teases her, and her back arches slightly off the bed. She tangles her hands in my hair, urging me closer. I suck gently, swirling my tongue, and she squirms, her hips moving rhythmically.
"Oh, God... Dmitri," she breathes, her voice thick with pleasure. "It's... too much."
Her hips buck, and a strangled moan escapes her throat as she tries to pull away, overwhelmed by the pleasure. My tongue flicks and swirls around her bud, and I add my fingers, sliding them inside her, one by one.
"Please... I can't take it," she pants, her hands gripping the sheets. "It's too good."
I chuckle softly and continue my relentless assault on her senses, determined to push her over the edge. Her breasts heave, and her thighs quiver as she surrenders to the waves of pleasure washing over her.
Her release hits her like a storm, and she cries out, her body arching off the bed. I hold her through it, my mouth never leaving its place, my fingers still moving within her. Her taste, her scent, and the feel of her beneath me are imprinted on my soul.
I release her wrists and move over her, positioning myself at her entrance. I don't give her time to recover, to process what's happening. Slowly, I thrust into her.
A soft groan escapes my throat as I bury myself deep within her. Her eyes hold mine, and she moans my name. I set a slow, steady rhythm, my body moving in sync with hers as if we're dancing to a sultry, intimate tune. With each thrust, her walls clench around me, and it takes every ounce of my self-control not to lose myself in her immediately.
Her breath comes in short gasps, and her hands roam my back, her fingers digging into my skin as if she's trying to pull me closer, wanting more of me. I oblige, my lips crashing down on hers, tasting her, claiming her as my own.
Our tongues dance in rhythm with our bodies. Her legs wrap around my waist, pulling me deeper, and I know she's close again. I quicken my pace, feeling my own release building within me. The coil of tension in my lower abdomen tightens, threatening to snap and send me spiraling into oblivion.
"Together," I whisper against her lips, and she nods, understanding.
We move as one, our bodies slick with sweat. Our breathing becomes more erratic, and our movements grow frantic as we race toward the edge.
"Now," she pleads, her nails digging into my shoulders.
I surrender to the inevitable, and with one final thrust, I climax, feeling her tighten around me as she finds her release again. We're suspended in that perfect moment—our bodies fused, our hearts pounding—before slowly returning to earth.
Collapsing onto her, I turn my head, pressing my lips to her neck, breathing her in. She feels so damn good beneath me, and I never want to let her go.
***
The salty air stings my nostrils as I crouch behind a stack of wooden crates, the rough planks digging into my knees.
Alexei and the others are stationed at various vantage points around the docks, keeping watch for Sergei's men and the shipment we've been tracking. But we've run into an unexpected complication—Mikhail Kozlov is here.
His smooth, arrogant voice carries across the open space, grating on my nerves like nails on a chalkboard.
"...no need to worry, Rocker. She'll be back in my possession soon enough."
I grip the handle of my knife tighter, my knuckles turning white. The thought of that bastard laying a hand on Valentina makes my blood boil.
Rocker, one of Sergei's lieutenants, chuckles. "Boss don't seem too concerned about the girl. He just wants whoever took her dealt with for disrespectin' him."
"Of course he does," Mikhail scoffs. "His precious reputation is all that matters to Sergei Makarov. Although I must admit, I still want her..." He pauses, and I can practically hear the smirk on his face. "Well, let's just say there are no more virgins left in Moscow."
The crude laughter that follows makes my stomach turn. How dare they speak of Valentina in such a disrespectful manner? She's not a piece of property to be traded and defiled.
Rocker joins in on the lewd jokes. "Yeah, I hear you have a reputation for deflowering the ladies."
White-hot rage courses through me, and I have to dig my nails into my palms to keep from charging out there and putting a bullet between both their eyes. But I know it would be suicide—they're not alone, and we're outnumbered.
"You say deflower, I say take away. It's nice to take away their innocence. I bet you if you taste a virgin girl, you won't go back. When I get Valentina, I can teach her everything she needs to know about sex and maybe let my men have their way with her while I watch."
"Fuck! You're a sick man." Rocker slaps his hand on Mikhail’s back, and they cackle like gossiping teenagers.
My fingers tighten around the knife handle as I fight the urge to charge out there and tear their throats out with my bare hands. Their laughter grates on my nerves, and I clench my jaw, forcing myself to remain still.
A man strolls into the dimly lit warehouse, dragging a hefty bag behind him. It has to be the cocaine shipment we've been tracking for weeks. He pauses in front of Rocker and Mikhail, who both step forward to inspect the goods.
Rocker crouches down and unzips the bag. He cuts open a bag inside with a knife, dipping his finger into the white powder. He brings it to his nose, inhaling deeply before nodding in satisfaction. "Good stuff," he grunts, looking pleased.
"Of course it is," the man replies smoothly. "Only the best for our friends."
Rocker stands up, brushing his hands off on his pants.
Mikhail's eyes narrow as he scrutinizes the bag, and Rocker’s focus quickly shifts. "The diamond," he demands, extending a hand toward the man.
Without hesitation, the man reaches into his coat and pulls out a small velvet pouch. He hands it over, and Rocker opens it, revealing a sparkling gem that catches even the meager light of the warehouse.
Rocker examines it closely after pulling out a small magnifying glass from his pocket. After a moment, he nods approvingly. "It's genuine."
The man visibly relaxes but then stiffens again as he clears his throat. "Now for my balance," he says, holding out his hand expectantly. "Sergei said I'll get extra for bringing it early."
Mikhail's smile vanishes instantly. He steps back slightly, pulling out a sleek handgun from inside his jacket. The man's eyes widen in realization just before Mikhail pulls the trigger. The gunshot echoes through the warehouse, and the man crumples to the ground in a lifeless heap.
Rocker doesn't flinch. Instead, he rolls up the bag of cocaine and gestures for one of Sergei's men to come and take it away.
The cold efficiency with which they conduct their business only deepens my resolve. These men have no honor, no conscience—only greed and cruelty.
They walk away without another glance at their victim, carrying their illicit goods as if it's just another day at work.
I stand up from my crouched position behind the crates, my fists clenched so tight my knuckles ache. The wooden crates rattle as I kick them, sending a loud crash echoing through the warehouse.
Alexei rushes over. "What the hell, Dmitri? What happened?"
"Mikhail was here," I spit out, anger lacing my words.
Alexei's eyes widen in disbelief. "Why the fuck was Mikhail here?"
"It's obvious," I growl, pacing back and forth like a caged animal. "Sergei and Mikhail are working together now."
"Shit," Alexei curses under his breath. He runs a hand through his sandy blonde hair, his usual playful demeanor replaced by a rare seriousness. "We don't have the manpower to face both of them."
I stop pacing and turn to face him, my frustration boiling over. "You think I don't fucking know that? We need new plans."
Alexei nods, his jaw tight. "Yeah, we do. But it's not gonna be easy."
"I never expected it to be easy," I snap, but then I take a deep breath, trying to rein in my anger. "We need to regroup and rethink our strategy. Sergei and Mikhail working together is a whole new level of shitstorm."
"We'll figure it out," Alexei says, though there's a flicker of doubt in his eyes.
I nod. Valentina’s father and her supposed fiancé are now united against us, making our mission even more dangerous.
"Let's get out of here," I say finally. "We've got work to do."