Chapter 34
CHAPTER
THIRTY-FOUR
MAXIM
"As you can see, the shipping routes are secure and operating at maximum efficiency now that we’ve doubled security," Viktor addresses me, pointing to a map spread across the table.
I listen intently, my gaze sweeping over my top lieutenants assembled here in the security of my home. It's a tactical decision—better to have them within these walls discussing the finer details of our operations than meeting off-site.
While we're reviewing financial projections, the door bursts open with a clamor.
"Maxim!" Kira's voice, sharp and irritated, slices through the room.
She stands in the doorway, clad in an oversized shirt splattered with streaks of paint, the hem barely grazing her thighs.
Beneath it, barely-there short-shorts peek out, clinging to her curves.
The shirt hangs off one shoulder, revealing a swath of creamy skin, and it's apparent from the way the fabric moves against her that she hasn’t bothered with a bra.
The room, a moment ago filled with the hum of business, falls into abrupt silence, all attention snapping towards Kira.
Moments later, Nadya appears behind her, her face etched with fury.
"I was painting the new sitting room,” Kira starts, “and Nadya barges in, saying it's 'shameful' for your wife to be doing such work!
" She shoots Nadya a death glare, completely unaware of the captivated male audience around the table.
Turning her fiery gaze towards me, she demands, "Can you please tell this witch to keep her opinions to herself and—”
"Eyes off my wife, now!" I cut her off, my blood boiling.
The men around the table instantly avert their gazes—some to the floor, others to the documents in front of them—a mix of embarrassment and fear etched on their faces.
In a swift motion, I grab my jacket from the back of my chair and drape it over Kira's shoulders. Her eyes narrow, but she doesn’t fight me further.
"My office. Both of you," I say through gritted teeth.
Without another word, I grab Kira's arm and drag her down the hall and into my office, with Nadya following close behind. Once inside, I release Kira and turn to face her, my frustration barely contained.
“Don’t you ever leave our bedroom looking like that again,” I growl.
Her jaw drops. “I was painting. What do you want me to wear?” Kira shoots back. “If you don’t want me to interrupt your meetings, do a better job of keeping your attack dog on a leash. I’m sick of her treating me like your whore!”
Outrage sharpens Nadya’s features. "Well, if you stopped parading around like a whore, maybe I wouldn't need to treat you like one!" Her words are harsh and unapologetic. “Maxim needs a proper wife, not one who acts like a street artist, covered in paint and lacking any sense of decorum.”
Something inside me snaps. "What did you say to my wife?"
A flicker of alarm crosses Nadya’s features. "Forgive me. I spoke out of turn. I only want what's best for you.”
I run my tongue over my upper teeth. “If that were true, you'd show my wife the respect she deserves, something I've already asked you to do,” I point out firmly.
At our first meeting after returning from New York, I made it clear to Nadya that her behavior towards Kira needed to change.
What I didn’t tell Nadya is Kira’s real motivation for marrying me and how I’m going to help her avenge Masha’s death. We’re keeping that piece of information on a need-to-know-only basis, which means the only ones who know about it are Roman and Pavel.
"Of course, Maxim.” Nadya bows her head slightly.
I'm not fooled by her act. There's no real remorse there, which pisses me off.
“I meant no disrespect to you or" — Nadya pauses, her voice straining as she forces out the next words — "your wife."
"We’ll discuss this later," I say sharply, my firm gaze on Nadya, letting her know that this conversation is far from over. Even if this marriage is an arrangement, she will treat Kira with the respect due to the woman who wears my ring.
Nadya departs without another look, leaving us in uneasy silence.
“Nadya has a talent for drama. Don't let her get to you," I say to diffuse the situation. I know Kira thinks Nadya’s in love with me, but that’s crazy. Her affection is driven by an overprotective maternal instinct, nothing more.
“Drama? That’s an understatement. She doesn’t trust me because I tried to take down my father.” Her shoulders slump on an exhale. “Does she think I’m going to betray you like … like your first wife did?"
I close my eyes briefly, attempting to block out the rush of pain her words unleash. "Something like that," I admit, my voice hoarse.
Kira lifts her hand to my cheek. Her touch is gentle, almost tentative. "You can talk to me, you know. I'm here for you, and not just because of this arrangement," she says softly.
For a moment, I'm tempted to open up, to tell her everything. But the scars run deep, and the walls I’ve built around my past are thick and high. So, instead, I focus on the much more immediate issue—the one growing in my pants.
I reach out and gently grasp Kira's jaw, angling her face towards mine.
My thumb lightly skims over her bottom lip as I meet her eyes.
"I understand Nadya was out of line, and I will deal with her," I vow calmly. "But I already warned you to never let my men see you dressed like this.” I grab her ass cheeks, my hands kneading the flesh I consider mine. “I’m going to have to kill everyone in that room now.”
Kira’s face drops. “No, Maxim, please don’t.”
“Maybe I’ll only blind them.” I release a heavy sigh. “Unless you can convince me otherwise.”
Her eyes narrow on me. “And what could I do to convince you otherwise?” She languidly licks her lips, calling my attention to her plush mouth.
I sit down in my office chair and push out so she has plenty of room to kneel in front of me. “I’m sure you can think of something.”
Heat blasts down my spine as she pulls her T-shirt off, flings it aside, and drops to her knees.
She holds eye contact as she undoes my pants and pushes them down along with my boxer briefs, far enough down to free my cock.
She runs her tongue over my length a few times, taunting me with her little licks.
“Put it in your mouth,” I snap.
The moment her lips wrap around my stiff length, I release a guttural groan. Jesus, this woman. I reach down, grab her by the roots of her hair, and take control, thrusting into her warm, eager mouth. She hums her approval, and it sends arrows of pleasure straight to my balls.
As she takes me deep, I delight in the view of messy blonde hair bobbing up and down over my lap. It’s like she’s made for me, fashioned exactly how I like. Strong but soft. Demanding but submissive.
Kira pulls up, her mouth still coated with wetness from my arousal and her lazy, sloppy sucking. “Fuck my mouth. Use me how you need me.”
“You want it rough?” I ask, pushing a strand of hair back from her face. “You want me to ruin your beautiful throat?”
She nods eagerly, stroking my cock with one hand.
I stand up, maintaining my grip on her hair to help me angle her mouth exactly where I need it. “Stay on your knees for me.”
I take a moment to admire her body. Lush, curvy, and perfect. Thick thighs and a tapered waist. Could any man dream of more?
“Open,” I demand, pulling out and rubbing the head of my cock along her lips, loving how ruined and depraved she looks with my tip trailing over her mouth.
The moment she opens for me, I thrust between her lips, electric heat pumping through my veins as I feel her tongue slide across the underside of my dick. “Good girl. Keep your eyes on me.”
I thrust deeper in her throat, the gagging sounds she makes as she struggles to take all of me music to my ears. She loves it too. Her little moans around my cock tell me everything I need to know.
“That’s right, you’re doing so good letting me fuck your throat.”
Tears slip past her lashes and her eyes widen, but I don't let up. I smile down at her, admiring the view of her breasts bouncing and her mouth stretched. The whole time, she keeps her eyes glued to mine as if looking at me for approval.
“So good. Swallow around me. Let me feel your throat hug me tight.” I use her hair like a leash, pulling her in so close that my pelvis brushes her nose, and saliva drips down her chin.
My God. This is perfection. She’s so determined, my little hellcat.
I can tell that she’s struggling. I’m a lot for her, especially in this position, but she doesn’t give up.
Watching her fight to breathe through her nose and swallow every inch of me is all that I need to send me toppling over the edge.
My balls tighten, and my thrusts are uneven and desperate, pistoning in and out of her mouth.
“You're such a good girl, making me come so hard with that perfect mouth. Look at me, baby.”
Even with the tears in her eyes, she holds eye contact.
“I am going to give you my cum now, and you’re going to drink down every drop.” My cock swells and I shout out my release, my grip on her hair unforgiving as my cum spills, coating the back of her throat.
She gags, and for a minute, I’m not sure she’s going to be able to finish the job, but she steadies herself and does so fucking well. My lips curl as she smiles up at me, her pretty face looking wrecked and perfect.
“You couldn’t look more beautiful right now.” My thumb catches a dribble of cum that leaks from the side of her mouth, and I bring the bead of liquid up to my lips, savoring the taste. “Jesus, woman, you're going to be my downfall."
“I think the same thing could be said of you. I’m not sure my jaw will ever be the same.”
I pull her onto her feet and bring her against my chest. “You’ll tell me if I’m too rough with you.”
“I think you know I like it rough.”