Chapter 34
Mikhail
Idon’t look up at her when I close my fist around the coin.
If I do, I won’t leave—a mistake I can’t afford to make.
I stayed when I shouldn’t have before, and it almost got Wolfgang killed.
Never will I allow the same thing to happen to my wife, no matter how sweetly she begs me to abandon my plans.
I need to know if Remus is targeting her at all—since he’s technically her step-brother—and if we can end this shit show by taking Chicago back from the Italians under reasonable circumstances that won’t throw us back into a war.
Then, I can relax.
I’ll be back in control. Because without this information, I’m shooting in the dark, and what happened that night twenty-something years ago when the guards caught me feeding Wolfgang…
I will never be so careless again.
The coin feels heavy in my palm, as if my wife has infused it with her very essence.
If I brought it up to my nose, I know it would smell like her—orange blossoms. I hate how it makes my heart beat erratically, like I’m some teenager taking a girl out on a date for the first time.
And I especially loathe how strongly her words still ring in my head from moments ago.
“I think I love you.”
I didn’t say it back. I don’t want to think about this—or the past— anymore.
The bench groans softly under our weight as I lean her back against the ringing piano keys, unfastening the button of her pants.
When she moves her hands to help undress herself, I realize how sincere she is.
This woman trusts me with her life, with her body.
With her heart. Never in a million years would I have been able to predict something like this would happen between us.
She was supposed to be my unwilling bride—a peace offering meant to settle the fire between our families. Instead, she became my every thought, taking her place front and center in my mind.
I cannot sleep, cannot eat or drink or be somewhere without obsessing over her. This is no way to live, yet it’s the only way I want to from now on. It’s better than any hard drug.
Her shaved pussy comes into view as we both pull her pants and panties down to her ankles, then to the floor. I swallow, memorizing the curves of her lips, her sensitive clit.
The piano makes more random sounds as she stretches, granting me more access to her cunt. Once I bring her up in front of my watering mouth, I taste.
I stroke her soft center with my tongue, a groan rippling out of me at the sweet, familiar taste.
When I look up at her, I expect to bathe in her hazel eyes, but they’re closed, her brows furrowed.
I lap at her like it’s our first time—gentle, yet greedy—enjoying the display of emotion on her pretty face with each stroke.
This. This is what I want to remember when I’m gone, right here, in the room I built for her, a room she loves and that makes her feel alive.
And her—splayed out on the object of her obsession as I lick and bite every inch of her, memorizing her flavors, her scent, the way her body writhes for me like a willow in the breeze.
“Mikhail…” she mumbles.
“Just a moment, sweetheart. I want you coming on my cock this time.”
I don’t tell her I need that visual memorized, and I especially don’t tell her why. There’s no need to worry her for nothing—I plan on making it out of Los Angeles alive.
Getting up, I pull down the zipper of my pants, and my hard cock springs out.
I wrap my arms around her thighs, hooking them around my torso so she’s comfortable.
Slowly, I sink inside her, marveling at how fucking good every inch of her tight channel feels around my length.
She’s so wet already, just like I want her.
I lower myself above her, my lips brushing her neck, her jaw, her lips. Her fingers tangle in my hair, pulling me closer, and I can’t help but finally thrust.
Her muscles clench around me, and she bites my lower lip, a groan erupting from my chest. I take her slow and deep, opening her mouth with my tongue until I’m entering her there too. Her hips rock into mine, and I get the cue to increase my pace.
Her breathing grows fast and shallow, her moans traveling down my throat as I swallow them. It’s the only sound in the room—that, and our bodies slapping together—her piano now silent after she climbed up on the lid. I squeeze her ass cheek, opening her up a little, and right then, she shatters.
“There you are. That’s my good girl,” I murmur, breaking our kiss only to touch my forehead to hers.
She squeezes my cock with those soft muscles, milking it as my balls tighten and my release spills inside her.
The thought of her cunt holding my seed while I’m gone is enough to make me want to go for round two.
I know better than to indulge myself for too long, though. I was supposed to leave early this morning but couldn’t bring myself to do it without seeing her. Without touching her.
Now, I’m glad I stayed, if only for a few more hours, even if it makes leaving that much more annoying.
She laughs softly, and I blink, still inside her. Why can’t I let her go?
“Something funny?” I smile, seizing her lips again, addicted to the taste of her.
“I just…” She shakes her head, squeezing my cock with her pussy without realizing. “I can’t believe we did this on my beautiful piano. I swear, if there’s a drop of anything on it—”
“You’ll lick it clean and then crawl to me so I can see the mess on your tongue.”
A pretty pink flush blooms on her cheeks. There’s so much we haven’t done yet, and I intend to make up for it as soon as I’m back.
“You know what you have to do?” I ask.
She nods, biting her lower lip, and I offer her a satisfied smile as I slowly slide out of her pussy. A bit of cum slips out too, but the rest, she keeps contained, clenching those muscles as much as she can.
“Good girl,” I say, picking up her panties and sliding them back up her thighs, covering her entrance. I wish I could stay long enough to see the wet spot forming there eventually.
God, I love filling her up like that. I haven’t asked her to use any contraceptives, and to my knowledge, she hasn’t ordered any online. Reckless? Maybe. Definitely. But somehow, I don’t give a damn. She’s my wife, and I’m going to fuck her raw every chance I get.
“I’ll see you in a few days, sweetheart.”
“Mikhail…” she whimpers, getting up to a seated position.
I shake my head, tucking myself in and heading for the door without looking back.
As I finish putting on my black leather gloves, my brother’s Rolls-Royce rounds up the driveway, stopping in front of me. The window slides down, and his golden eyes pierce me with a frown.
“Get in,” he says.
I grin, fighting the urge to display my annoyance. Since Victoria overheard my discussion with Cecilia this morning, I can only assume he knows I’m headed to the airport already. I won’t bother denying it if he asks.
Besides, it would be better if we aligned on this mission instead of me having to work behind his back. Unlike the rest of the Bratva, I’ll never be anyone’s puppet, a rather difficult fact for him to accept, being the control freak he is.
“I was kind of in the middle of something,” I say, plopping down next to him in the back and shutting the door behind me. “What can I do for you, brother?”
He shakes his head, nostrils flaring, betraying his exasperation. “It doesn’t seem to matter what I say or ask for. You’ll do what you want.”
“Just because I supported you for Pakhan doesn’t mean I’ll be your lap dog.”
“It’s not even about that. Christ. You’re not a fucking nobody, Mikhail. You’re at the top of the Bratva, yet you forget it every time you leave the house. You can’t put yourself at risk like an idiot and expect me to be cool with it.”
I don’t need him to be cool with it. I just need my fucking debt paid. “Your point?” I ask.
“You’re pissing me off.”
“Duly noted.”
Wolf runs a hand through his hair, looking out toward the snow-covered fields. “What’s your plan, then?”
“Land in LA, ask our hackers for intel, and go look for that asshole. Plant some mics where he’s hiding, the usual.”
“And if he catches you? What then?”
“He won’t.”
“But if he does?” my brother asks.
I shrug. “Then he’ll have me to torture. He won’t be coming after our wives.”
Wolf’s jaw clenches, looking away as if he’s struggling to meet my gaze for whatever reason. He’s probably extra pissed about me going behind his back. Again.
“Take this,” he says, handing me a phone and an earpiece. “It has everything you need to find that fucker. If you need anything else, call us. I’ll coordinate with Rodion and Niko.”
I look at him side long before taking the objects and shoving them in the pocket of my coat. “You already talked with them, I take it.”
“Of course I fucking did.”
Finally, he looks at me, and for a second, I’m taken aback by what I see in his eyes.
Not anger. Not disappointment. It’s the same look he used to throw me whenever shit hit the fan in Siberia—pain, worry, and maybe a hint of helplessness, because even then, he couldn’t stop me from doing whatever the fuck I wanted, which got me in trouble more times than I can count.
“Don’t die, Mikhail. At this point, that’s all I fucking ask,” he says, getting out of the car.
The door slams shut behind him, and I’m left alone with his driver. He fires up the engine and drives away, as if he’s already been instructed where to take me.