Chapter Nineteen - Akim
A burning sensation tingles around the inside of my mouth as I drive to the new gin bar I’ve acquired, irritated with the menace. She put enough spice on everything to kill a man, and the raw onion has my eyeballs watering. I sip on the water in my cup holder wanting to give her a special punishment. The thing is, I didn’t lie to her. I liked what she was doing. I remind myself I didn’t ask for an easy woman, but her being more complicit would be better as things are getting out of hand.
She’s intriguing in many ways. I thought she might get back at me by overspending on the black card, but the only outing she took was a wholesome lunch with her father, which he paid for. It stumped me because I had more than enough money for her to splurge and enjoy herself.
Other women I’ve dated have treated themselves to spa days, shopping sprees, endless lunch dates with their friends, cruises, and all sorts of stock, standard behaviors from wealthy socialites.
I even checked her open browser, finding her looking for jobs, but it’s where I draw the line. She’s not going to have a job unless it’s working directly for the Bratva. She’s already proven to be dangerous enough to the organization. Boris calls as I cut through the city, searching for a parking spot as I think about a way to show her there are consequences for her actions.
“Boris. My guy. What’s up?”
“Nothing that hasn’t already been handled.” Frowning, I hang out my tongue, hoping the air getting to it will lessen the heat sauna Kiara created in my mouth.
“I don’t like the sound of that. Tell me more.”
“We lost two men on the road today during a shipment to New Jersey. It’s as if somebody knew the stops. The truck was raided by none other than the Genovese crew. As soon as we pull out a few weeds, more of these guys crop up. It’s starting to look like a problem.”
Parking, I keep Boris on the line. “Hang up. I’m here.” Chicago’s people are bustling all around us, the world is continuing to turn.
Grim faced, Boris nods. “Hey.”
“Hey, yourself,” I tell him, patting at the back of my neck. Kiara’s created a heat storm inside me, but I’m not complaining. I’m going to find a way to get her back soon.
“You alright? You’ve got these funny splotches all over you.” Kiara. Definite punishment is coming up.
“Don’t ask.”
“Okay. If you say so.”
“We need to find out what they want. If it’s an arms dealer network or a deal they want, we can do that. The last thing we want is to start a turf war. That’s not good for either side.”
“Right, but it might be a little too late for that, Boss. We’ve already knocked off ten of their men. I thought you didn’t want to do business with them? Changed your mind?”
“Yeah.” I wipe the sweat on my brow, using the wisdom I’ve acquired over the years. “If they back off and the faction comes to us like civilized businessmen, we can cut a deal. Only that deal will work in our favor, not theirs. It will save us bloodshed and further complications. I killed Kevin to make a point—not to start a habit,” I state. “Besides, if we can create an allyship out of an enemy, it only deepens our grip in Chicago.”
“You make a sterling point. I’ll tell Luka. The end decision is going to come from the Pakhan, right?”
“Yes, and I’m sure he will agree with me. Let’s get this refurbishment done.” Loud banging and construction is underway for the gin bar, and I do the rounds speaking to the on-site supervisor and giving him recommendations. It’s the one thing I’m proud of, and that’s going ahead without hiccups.
By lunch, I check in with Kiara, wanting to know where she is and keeping an eye on her. Her phone rings out and I leave her a voicemail.
“Kiara. Ring me back when you receive this voicemail.” I wait to see how long she’ll take to call back, and straight after I ring the bodyguard—Terence, who I’ve assigned to her.
“She’s inside the department store, and I saw her look at her phone and put it in her purse, sir.” Infuriated, I hang up, a hankering to make her beg tonight, fueling my obsession with her. I’ve married her for claim, but I still don’t have complete control, and I need it.
***
Much later, after sundown, I enter the penthouse to find Kiara in front of her laptop laughing at the screen.
Tapping her on the neck, she jumps. “What are you laughing at?” I inquire gently, seeing Emily—my cousin’s wife on the screen. I wave to her. “Hi, Emily.”
“Hi, Akim.”
“Kiara’s got to go now. You can talk later,” I explain, clicking the log off button, and carefully shutting down the laptop.
“Hey! What are you doing?” Kiara asks with indignation, trying to open it back up, but I keep my hand on it with a don’t-push-me look on my face.
“Bedroom. Now .” Standing over her, she cranes her neck upward, death squinting at me, her mouth gaping open. I pretend to stroke her hair, looking down at her with a smirk but give her honey-caramel locks a tug when she doesn’t comply as fast as I command. “Bedroom,” I repeat in a slanted pitch, her head shifting back. She tugs her hair out of my hand, the message loud and clear as I lead with her following.
Good. First step. She has it in her to listen.
“Bad day?” She stands close to the door, but it’s open, and I’ve had enough of her smarty-pants act.
“Fine. Shut the door behind you.” I skid my keys on the dresser behind her, throwing my jacket on the armchair to the left, and stepping out of my shoes, unbuttoning my shirt sleeves and rolling them up.
“Whoa. You mean business. Is something wrong?” she asks tepidly, her smile too smug for my liking. Apparently, she hasn’t got the message.
“Yes, but first I’m going to take a shower, and you can amuse yourself while you wait here,” I order with authority. She shrugs, not understanding what’s in store.
“Not much to be amused about,” she retorts dryly, only further enraging me. When I return, I find her staring out at the city lights.
Approaching, I stand beside her, looking out with her. “You didn’t answer your phone when I called.” I keep my voice low, but there’s enough of a threat in it for her to get the picture.
“I figured I would see you later,” she replies plainly. “Sorry.”
“When I call you, Mrs. Utkin. You answer. Understood?” I grit out tersely, holding two silk scarves in my hand.
“Um… okay. No big—”
“That’s okay,” I cut her off, shifting her hair off her shoulder, dipping to kiss her collarbone. “You’re going to repay me. Trust me. And you’re going to do it now. And you’re going to enjoy repaying me.”
Her eyes open with alarm as she exhales a janky breath, glancing at the scarves. “What are those for?”
I slip in behind her. “Take your tank top off and you can find out. Don’t argue about it,” I grate in her ear as she silently pulls her fitted tank top over her head so she’s left standing in her bra. Admiring her from behind, I wrap the scarf around my fist so I can slide my hand up to cup her breast. She shivers, her body responding with a light sway. “Good start, wife. Now take your shorts off. I want you in your underwear only.” I wait as she thinks about defying me. I squeeze her ass when she doesn’t listen, grinding my hard-on into her back. “Why are you taking so long? Take the shorts off, Kiara.” She inhales a sharp intake of breath, wriggling free of her shorts as I take her in. Fucking beautiful. Just beautiful.
I wrap the first silk scarf around her eyes, knotting it firmly in place.
“I don’t want you to be able to see anything. No peeking. I only want you to be able to feel. You might have thought it was cute to spice up my food, but I’m going to spice up the bedroom,” I whisper, her body shivering in delight, my cock harder than it’s ever been.
“I can’t see anything, Akim. I want to be able to see,” she whimpers.
“No,” I whisper directly down her ear, blowing in hot air. She squeals with a giggle. “You’re going to do what I tell you to do. You’re not going to see anything right now. Fucking listen, Kiara.”
“Hmm. Okay. Aren’t you supposed to give me a safe word?” she whines as I turn her body towards a chair in the bedroom and sit her down, tying her hands in front of her.
“You’re not safe. You tried to set my mouth on fire.” I didn’t mean for it to come out in a humorous way, but it did, and it causes Kiara to laugh loudly, and I smile on the inside, happy to enjoy her playfulness, but I don’t want her to know it.
“You were upset about it! Ha-ha. Can I take this blindfold off now. Let’s stop this game.”
Smiling, I turn the conversation over to a serious one. “No. We haven’t started, and don’t speak until spoken to from now on.” I head over to the bar fridge placing an ice cube in my mouth and returning, bending over to her mouth, and rolling the cube into hers. It takes her a minute to work out what’s going on as she attempts to bring her hands up to her face. Gently, I push them back down.
“I can’t get it in my mouth properly,” she gurgles as I insert my tongue in, the heat of our kiss melting the ice and I crunch it in her mouth.
“What did I tell you about speaking? Punishment number one is coming up.” Improvising, I take a few more cubes from the fridge, unclasping her bra. Her automatic reaction is to cover herself, her knees tensing up. “Relax, Kiara,” I command as she eases her knees down. Thumbing my fingers over her nipples, I delight as they rise to my touch. Crouching down, I work my tongue in a back-and-forth motion over her caramel buds as she whimpers.
Her stomach ripples as I cup her breast, licking and sucking, until she breaks apart into a panting frenzy. “Akim, please,” she begs, but I haven’t gotten started yet, placing the cool cube in my mouth, clinking it around. “What—”
The cool of the cube touches her nipple, and she squeals. I let out a throaty laugh as the water drips down her stomach. “Naughty wives have to pay,” I advise her, prizing her legs open and dipping my hand into her panties. “Ahh, that’s it. You’re already soaking wet. I want you to apologize.”
Her hips buck and rotate around my fingers as I dip past her pubic bone, closing my eyes, working her other breast with the ice cube, providing as much sensation as I can. My fingers slip and slide inside her as I drop the cube down the middle of her stomach and into her panties. Just as she’s bucking forward in the chair, I draw my fingers out abruptly, claiming her mouth, taunting by biting her bottom lip and sucking.
“You’re wicked,” she whispers in a frustrated hiss.
I squeeze both her cheeks together. “You have no idea how wicked I can be, Kiara.” Wrapping tendrils of her loose hair around my finger, I sniff her neck. “God. You smell divine. Like the sexy woman you are. Get up from the chair and bend over on all fours for me. I’ll guide you to the bed.”
“But—”
Standing behind her, I slap her ass hard enough for a cracking sound to connect, but not enough to hurt her. Only a mild sting at best. “Akim.”
“What, you don’t like it?” I tease, rubbing her ass as I walk behind her, my cock jabbing in the small of her back. She doesn’t answer, and I tug her hair lightly.
“You told me not to speak, remember?” she pants as I slip down her underwear, and she steps out of them.
“Oh, now you listen,” I growl.
“Just doing as I’m told.” A small smile appears on her face, giving me enough reason to take her to a new place of divine torture.
“But do you like what I just did to you?” I ask, wanting an answer. She waits, and I do it again.
“Shit! Yes. I fucking like it,” she admits as I grin.
“Thought so. Two can play a game,” I warn smoothly, untying her hands and setting up the new game. “I want you to put your hands on the headboard and keep them there.”
She crawls forward, reaching for the headboard and I wait until she’s got a firm grasp on it, then retie the silk scarf so she’s bent over ass naked on all fours with a blindfold. I caress her bare ass for a second, slapping it once more. She wriggles, and I guide a finger in her from behind, finding her g-spot and holding her hips. I tune into the rhythm of her body and her breathing, telling me how to get her close.
She can’t help herself. “Akim, I can’t take it anymore, can you—” I bring her up, close to orgasm, but pull my fingers out as she tries to drive her hips to the peak. She has no idea who she’s messing with.
“Uh-uh. Not yet.” Breathless and bewildered, her hair drapes over her back. “Ana Benito… where did you get that name from?” I ask her as I take my clothes off, releasing my raging hard-on, having to control not only her, but myself. Guiding myself in, I stretch her open with only the tip.
“Wha-what?” she asks in confusion.
“Ana,” I repeat. “The alter ego you came to my bar with.” I give her a little more of my length, holding on to her hips for leverage as I thrust hard. She gasps, her arms bending from having to hold them up.
“I don’t fucking know,” she says in frustration as I pull out of her again, painfully slowly. “Akim. Please stop. This is too much. I want to—”
Snickering, I dip inside her wet center again. “What? You want to come, do you? You should apologize to me for all the things you’ve done, baby. How about that?” I ask in a coarse tone, groaning as I slap her ass again.
She resists, but I take her to the brink, toying with how deep I go inside her. “Okay,” she groans. “I apologize.”
The passion between us is the everlasting fire and a defiant woman apologizing has never felt so good. My heart beats wildly as the liquid pools between her thighs and I give her all of me. Thrusting, her body relaxes as I shut my eyes, the feeling taking me over. Possessing Kiara is everything.
“You’re fucking mine, Kiara. All mine. Don’t forget. Tell me you are mine. Say it back to me,” I command, hissing through my teeth as I slam myself inside her. My pace quickens, my blood afire as Kiara splits herself open more, the beast I’ve become breaking free. I’m close to the edge, dying to fly. With Kiara, I feel like I can fly.
“I’m yours, Akim. I’m so yours! ”
“Then come with me, Kiara,” I groan, reaching forward to stimulate her clit as I thrust, and there’s no stopping.
“I’m close too,” she says, her body shaking as I release, victorious, and Kiara comes with me, her body collapsing into waves of orgasm. Afterwards, the game isn’t up. I untie her hands, flipping her over with a malicious grin.
“I hope you learned your lesson.” I kiss her forehead, but don’t comfort her. Instead, I leave her sweaty, infuriated, and well fucked in the bed as I shower and work late in the home office, warning her before I leave. “Don’t play a game with me that you’re not experienced in.”
Grinning, I don’t return until the early hours of the morning when she’s fast asleep, and I spoon her from behind.
Chapter Twenty - Kiara
I’ve told myself I’m not going to become his pet, but every day I feel fragments of my life peeling away never to be retrieved again. Our marriage is a few weeks in, and if Akim and I aren’t at each other’s throats, we’re making up for it in the bedroom, leaving me temporarily anesthetized. Our relationship is tumultuous at best. One day we might get along if we’re lucky, but it doesn’t take long for him to rub me the wrong way or apply his overbearing tactics, giving me no choice but to lash out.
I can’t see the road ahead for us getting any less rocky, but tonight, my stomach is all tied up in knots. I’m attending my first Bratva-related event, and it’s going to be hosted on the lavish grounds of the Gormley Estate and filled with all types of influential figures from Chicago and beyond. I’ve peeked at the guest list, and it’s jam-packed with Chicago officials, law enforcement, business moguls, and well-known wealthy socialites.
Grimacing, I untwist the thin double strap of the lavender dress Akim picked out for me. Part of it is ruched at the hip with an embroidered lavender flower and the right amount of sparkle. The man has a good eye for luxury and beauty. It’s evident from the wardrobe I’ve now inherited. It’s extreme how much my life has transformed.
“I want to remember you the way you were the night we first met.” He might be romanticizing the night a little too much. He’s forgotten that was the same night I attempted to poison him. From the start I’ve loathed him and the Bratva, and nothing has changed. In his warped mind, it’s the night he began to stake his claim on me.
I’m finding it strange having everything at my disposal, but I don’t think I can go back to normal life after this even if I try. Having professional makeup and hair stylists come in, makes me feel like a movie star, and just like our wedding, I don’t recognize the woman staring back at me from the mirror.
Akim’s dutiful wife. Grabbing my clutch from the bed, I take a in deep breath, the lingering, but now familiar smell of Akim’s cologne clinging to the air. His shadow is everywhere. The truth is, I don’t know him, and he won’t let me in when I ask him. I barely know anything about where he comes from and how he came to be the dominant Bratva boss he is. Part of me doesn’t want to know, scared of what I’ll find out.
The smell of cologne grows stronger as I step back from the mirror. “You are stunning, wife. Are you ready to go?” I turn to the door, shaken by how devastatingly handsome Akim looks. His scorpion pokes out of his crisp white shirt, and his well-tailored jet-black suit is the perfect accompaniment to his darkness. And the bow tie he sports is a debonair touch.
Swallowing down my apprehension, I walk over to the man I don’t know but share a bed with. “Yes,” I reply shakily, careful not to step on the small train of my dress.
“You’re going to be fine,” he encourages with surprising warmth. “I’m sure you’re going to make a good impression.”
“I hope so. I’ve never been around these types of people,” I confess, a little frightened I won’t be able to connect on their level.
Akim stares at me, stroking a knuckle down the side of my face. “They’re just people. Not as special as you think they are. Only maybe their titles. Come on, let’s go show you off. It’s for a good cause.” He kisses the side of my face, leaving it tingling. The night is dedicated to a charity event for Chicago’s underprivileged children, which I find ironic given what the Bratva stand for.
I slip my arm through his as we make our way to the event. I’m too overwhelmed for words. The estate is huge, the lawn and grounds are immaculate with large vintage lampposts lighting the circular driveway. Limousines roll in back-to-back as I enjoy a champagne in our own town car to settle my fraught nerves. The estate is bathed in warm amber spotlights, highlighting the building’s exquisite Neo-classical architecture with two large white pillars leading guests to the inside.
I hold a pleasant smile as unknown people greet Akim with warmth, and he introduces me. “Hi, Deputy Rainer, nice to see you here tonight. I’d love for you to meet my wife.”
“Hi. Kiara,” I say, holding out my hand, which is dripping with a jeweled bracelet that Akim gifted me.
“Kiara. That’s a beautiful name. Congratulations on being a newlywed. You look stunning.”
“Thank you.” I answer all the small talk with polite stiffness, the feeling of suffocation overriding me and Akim providing his fake encouragement.
“You’re doing a great job. Relax, grab a drink, and go mingle a little.”
Mingle? “Thanks. I feel like a fish out of water, but the people seem okay,” I admit.
“Give me a minute, there’s somebody I need to talk to. I’m right over here if you need me, and we can take our seats a little later.” The bass in his voice sends a warm shiver down my spine, his hand briefly resting on the base of my spine. Why does this man have this strange hold on me? I can’t shake it.
I take in the grand interiors, which are as spectacular as the outside of the building. The floor is a beautiful swirl of pale green and white marble, with a stage at the front of the room, and pillars throughout. Round, tableclothed tables with luxurious table settings are arranged around the pillars. And by count, there must be at least 100 tables, and the ballroom itself is filling up fast, the sound of conversations mingling in with the background music.
I don’t find it hard to talk to others because many of the socialites are approaching me and wanting to make me feel at ease. It’s almost as if they are taking me under their wing for the night.
“You are stunning. And I can see why Akim picked you,” one of them coos, and quick enough I find myself in a semicircle of women intrigued with how I came to marry Akim. Panic rises as I glance over at him. He’s standing beside a man who looks important, leaning on the bar. A dark smirk is planted on his mouth, almost as if he’s enjoying watching me sink.
Turning back to the women, I want to prove I don’t need him and can hold my own.
“Thank you, ladies. It’s been a dream so far,” I lie, tinkling a fake wave to Akim as I make a joke, laughing in his direction. Akim frowns as I break out of my nervousness, finding my footing, complimenting all the women on their dresses and asking them about married life. He’s right. Not so hard, because the women are shallow and only concerned with material things.
Just when I think I’m drowning in socialite hell, Rose, a girl I attended computer science college with comes over to greet me. “Is that you, Kiara?” For a second, she stares unable to speak, but I’m so happy to see her, I lunge awkwardly at her with a hug. Finally, I can connect with a normal person.
“Oh my God, Rose! So good to see you. What are you doing here?” I shriek.
“I’m… you know. Living life. I’m here as a guest to my dad. Remember I told you he’s on the board of directors for the Chicago Building Fund?”
Scrunching up my nose, I try to think back. “I faintly remember you telling me your father was a hedge fund manager at some big bank. Yeah, I guess so.”
“Yup. That’s it. But wow—you look like a different person. I’m so used to seeing you in a hoodie, and with your laptop. Are you working for the CIA yet? Is that why you’re here?” she jokes, taking a sip of her wine. Rose is smaller than me with glasses and one of the most down-to-earth people you could meet.
“No, no. My husband is here to support the charity.”
Rose’s eyes widen in shock. “You’re married?”
My mouth forms a grim line as I rock back on my feet. “Yes. I’m married.”
“That’s so crazy. The past and the present in the same room.”
Puzzled, I tilt my head, testing out one of the entrée items. “I don’t follow?”
Someone calls Rose, and I can tell she’s distracted. “Ah, I gotta go, but what I mean is Ethan—your ex—is here floating around somewhere. You remember how obsessed he was with you.”
Rose waves as she’s called away before I can ask her any more questions. Ethan. I don’t know if we even broke up. He basically ghosted me without any reason. We got together in the summer of my first semester, and I thought he was the cutest guy in the whole university. But the problem was, so did every other girl on campus. I was just so happy to be dating him, and it felt good to be wanted by him. I didn’t care that the other girls were jealous of me.
But by the end of the second summer, when I thought we were going strong, the calls started drying up, and he stopped coming around. I tried contacting him a few times, but he never returned my calls, leaving me with a spiraling staircase of hopeless thoughts, thinking it was me. It took me a while to get over it, but by the time I graduated, it was “Ethan who?”
“What a blast from university past,” an animated voice chimes in, springboarding me out of my thoughts and back into the ballroom.
Suddenly uncomfortable, I smile tightly at the man behind the voice. “Hi, Ethan. Yes, it is.” I keep my tone cordial to protect myself, chills spiraling through me.
I hate that he looks good, but he always did. He’s not as lanky anymore, broader across the shoulders and has maybe sprouted up a couple of inches in height too. His face is clean-shaven, and he’s got more of an All-American look than Akim with his dirty-blond hair and blue eyes. I can’t help but compare the two men, but if I did, Akim would be in the lead by default of actually wanting me, unlike ghost-face Ethan.
We used to joke about both having blue eyes and being made for each other, but when I reluctantly look into his eyes, they give me a sleazy, vampiric vibe. His upbeat optimism appears to have diminished. I can’t put my finger on him exactly anymore, but his lusty infatuation is written all over his face.
I watch his swift gesture in horror, the movement too fast for me to maneuver out of. Ethan leans in to softly kiss my cheek. Fuck. Akim hasn’t let me out of his sight all night. I pray he hasn’t seen him do it, because if he has, it’s going to make him jealous as hell. I don’t need the argument with him, I’m already on edge as it is. I jerk my head back, touching my cheek to demonstrate I didn’t ask for it, but Ethan doesn’t pick up my cues, ogling me from head to toe instead.
“Wow. Look at Mrs. Utkin.” I pick up the disdain in his tone but leave it alone. Not understanding why he’s acting the way he is. “You’re all grown-up and married I heard. Honey, you look like a dream,” he compliments with a sinister chuckle, my throat growing hot and tight.
How does he fucking know I’m married? Did Rose have enough time to tell him? Flustered, I don’t respond. I’m not giving him the satisfaction.
“Thanks. I see you’ve grown into your skin too,” I reply politely, discreetly stepping back from him and folding my arms across my chest as a defense barrier. Ethan’s crystal blue eyes remain fixed on me as he laughs, squeezing my arm tenderly.
Get the fuck off me. Shit. Get the fuck off me before Akim sees.
“Yeah, I know about the wedding. Didn’t think I would find out, huh?” Ethan smirks, the intensity of his laser-like gaze seizing my body up.
“Sorry, Ethan. I haven’t seen you for years. I don’t know what you’re talking about. Yes, I am married, and given how high profile my husband is, I’m sure that’s how you found out,” I reply, intending to ruffle his feathers, but he doesn’t back off. He cuts the gap I put between us, a hot flame skipping to my cheeks.
“Sure, sure, you’re married,” he whispers in a quiet voice. “But, it’s the Bratva, and there’s no way you married that man by choice. I know you’ve been forced, Kiara.”
Don’t give anything away. “Ethan,” I scoff, “you’ve maybe had a few too many beers. You still drink the stuff?”
Ethan’s eyes send the cool shivers of a Chicago blizzard down my spine, and I’ve never wanted Akim to step in more than I do now. “You’re avoiding the subject,” Ethan counters in a sing-song voice. “But you’re in trouble. You know it and I know it. I can help you… honestly,” he adds with grave sincerity.
His desperation and encroachment on my space is making me want to run, but thankfully, I’m delivered by Akim, his expression dark and foreboding as he approaches.
He slides a possessive arm around my waist, lassoing me into his side, glaring at Ethan.
“Who is this, dushka?” he questions, a dangerous undercurrent in his steely tone.
Hesitating to answer, the air and the words failing to form, Ethan asserts himself with an introduction. “I’m Ethan Myers. I used to go to university with Kiara. We were quite the pair,” he announces, terrifying me with the words escaping his condescending mouth.
I feel the fire burning hot inside Akim, his fingers digging into my hip as he nods back at Ethan. I look around the ballroom for an exit, or a way I can excuse myself to the bathroom, but Akim’s grip is too tight. Ethan’s eyes are still hooked on me and if he isn’t careful, he’s going to find himself in an unwanted predicament. All I want him to do is go the fuck away.
“Quite the pair… that’s interesting,” Akim replies in dead calm, his body language anything but.
“He doesn’t mean anything by it. Only that we went to school together,” I quickly drive in, wanting to diffuse the ticking bomb between us.
“You’re hurting my heart a little bit, Kiara. I’m sure your husband knows you have a past. Nothing to be ashamed of,” he adds boldly, provoking Akim. Daring to glance at him, his eyes are black, changed from the chocolate irises I’ve grown used to looking in, and the brilliant, dark storm that he is emerges.
“Kiara’s not ashamed of anything,” Akim responds, looking down at me as his grip changes and his hand slips to interlock with mine.
“I think Kiara can speak for herself, can’t you? She’s always been outspoken, haven’t you Ki-Ki. She does seem quieter than normal. You wouldn’t have anything to do with that, would you?”
Cringing, I put a stop to it, as Ethan stares at me intensely. He wants to get hurt at this stage. He’s calling me by the nickname he made up for me back in college. “Don’t call me that. My name’s Kiara.”
Before Ethan can get a word in, Akim shuts him down, the conversation rising to dangerous levels. “There. She’s spoken. And from now on, you leave my wife alone, otherwise you don’t want to deal with the consequences,” he warns, stepping nose-to-nose with Ethan.
Ethan laughs in his face. “Uh-uh. I’m not done with her. She was mine first.” He winks at Akim and walks off before he can get a word in.
Fuck. This is why I was nervous. I didn’t want to come to this event in the first place, and after Akim silently fumes through the event, I excuse myself for the bathroom, returning to him cornering me in it.
“Akim,” I whisper hoarsely, checking to see if others are walking in. “You can’t be in here. You’re going to get caught.”
“I don’t give a fuck. I put a sign out front anyway,” he replies, his cool demeanor flying out the window. “Who the fuck was that guy?”
“Nobody, Akim. Calm down,” I tell him. I’ve had enough testosterone power plays for one night. Akim grabs my chin, hoisting me up on the sink, shocking me. A tiny squeal comes out of my mouth as he roughly kisses me, his fingers greedily reaching up under my dress.
“Don’t tell me to calm down,” he grits out. “It wasn’t nobody,” he hisses, the taste of his tainted tongue lighting me on fire. Instantly a pool of desire sweeps between my legs. I still don’t understand what it is that makes me so needy for his touch, but in seconds my panties have been swept to the side and his fingers are inside me. “Who was he?”
I pant, my hips circling off the sink as Akim holds my face up with one hand, his other working magic tricks between my legs. “An ex from college. I don’t have anything to do with him.” Then I say it, without warning, maybe it’s the alter ego of Ana Benito talking. “Make me come, Akim.”
Appalled by what I’ve said, Akim grins, nibbling my ear and dropping his hold on my face to steady my hip. “That’s better, dushka. Now you know your place. Do it now. Come .”