Chapter Four
Chapter Four
Becca
I stomp to my bedroom and slam the door behind me. Damn him! Damn him and his muscled chest! Damn him and his eight-pack stomach. Why in the fuck do men like him look so God damn good in gray sweatpants. The way they hang low on his hips, just above that V that directs swooning women to the promise land.
I can’t even count how many nights I’ve longed for Niko’s arms around me, and then today happened. We should focus on finding the asshole who’s threatening me, but all I can think about is him and the multiple orgasms he gave me. I still can’t wrap my head around it. I humped him like a dog, but instead of chiding me, he took it a step further, multiple steps further. Fuck, we covered miles of terrain today.
It should’ve never happened, but my body craves more. For the first time in my life I find a man that knows how to pleasure a woman and he’s off limits. He was hard as steel, but he was solely focused on my pleasure.
And he succeeded.
And those looks he gave me, looks I’m terrified to decipher.
I figured he thought of me as a bratty little sister, even though we aren’t related, but now I don’t know what to think. I’ve never been so confused.
When my father moved us to the States I was scared of this strange new world, but Zoya, Sergei, and Andrei welcomed me with open arms. My father cared for my mother, but he and Zoya have a love that’s indescribable. It’s a love that survived all obstacles- death, the passing of time, and ruthless betrayal. Years later, they found each other again, and their love has only grown stronger. Zoya is a mother to me in every sense of the word, and when she and my father reunited they blended our fractured families into a unit of strength, love, and loyalty.
When they learned Niko was Zoya’s nephew they welcomed him as they had me so many years before. So, even though Niko and I are both cousins to Andrei and Sergei, we come from two totally different branches of their family tree.
I grew up in front of Niko, awkward and boy crazy, while he became a man. A ruthless killer, feared by many, even earning a nickname. There’s no doubt The Butcher would protect me with his life, but would he give me his heart?
I shake my head. The Butcher doesn’t have a heart to give.
At least we agree on one thing. It can’t happen again. Did my heart sink when he said it was a mistake? Of course, but then he threatened future spankings and my pussy clenched. What is wrong with me?
Instead of psychoanalyzing, I resign myself to unpacking.
I open my suitcase and find Tali’s manuscript laying on top. I didn’t know she was finished and my chest swells with pride. She always wanted to be an author and I was more than happy to volunteer as her arc reader.
I take the book and sit on the bed, wincing from the sting of Niko’s spanking. He was trying to teach me a lesson and I learned one thing today. I get off on spankings.
My drunken one-night-stands never last long enough for foreplay, let alone exploration. Yes, there’s a reason, but still, I’m in my prime, I’m supposed to be experimenting, safely of course, but instead, I’m settling for sloppy scraps.
Why does it have to be Niko who wakes up these sexual urges inside me? He makes me want to try things, be adventurous. I trust him with my life. But what about my sexual desires?
◆◆◆
There’s a knock. I lay Tali’s book on the nightstand and walk to the door expecting my captor, but instead there’s a petite older woman on the other side. Lines crinkle at the corner of her gray, mischievous eyes and I can’t help smiling back. Her dark hair has one streak of silver framing her face.
“Miss Sokolov…”
“Becca. Please call me Becca.”
“Becca, I’m Dharma, the housekeeper, and it’s a pleasure to have you as a guest in Mr. Petrova’s home.”
I snort, “Right, guest.”
“I’m aware of your unusual circumstances, but I will try to make it as pleasant as possible.”
“Niko Petrova is about as pleasant as a cactus.”
She stifles a laugh. “Dinner is ready, and Mr. Petrova would like you to join him in the dining room.”
“Not happening. Not tonight, tomorrow, or ever.”
“I see. He won’t be pleased.”
“That’s kind of the idea.”
She lets out a hoot of laughter, “I’ll break the news to Mr. Petrova and ask Daniel to deliver your meal to your room.”
She turns to leave, but I quickly ask, “Dharma?”
“Hm?”
“Does Niko have a lot of guests?”
“Only family and work colleagues.” She winks. Right, work colleagues, as in Bratva killers.
“No women?”
“Never.”
Twenty minutes later Dan knocks, and the delicious aroma makes my stomach growl. I didn’t realize how hungry I was. He leaves me and I lift the silver dome, revealing a filet mignon, buttered potatoes and steamed asparagus. I cut into the steak and it’s perfectly cooked.
It’s melt-in-my-mouth delicious, and the bottle of white wine Dan left opened in the chiller is begging to be consumed. It isn’t vodka, but it’ll do.
◆◆◆
After my meal and three glasses of wine, I’m feeling no pain. And I’m quite proud of my unpacking, although a little messy. Okay, a lot messy. I take my glass and sit out on the balcony of my prison, watching the sunset and drinking the rest of my wine. I hate to admit how beautiful it is, being out here and away from the neon lights and noise of the city.
I’ll never admit it to him.
I half expected him to barrel down my door and quote Beauty and the Beast, declaring, if she doesn't eat with me, then she doesn't eat at all ! But he didn’t, and the armoire in my room hasn’t come to life.
I finish my wine and change into a pair of pajama shorts and tank top, missing the shorts Niko tore off of me. They were my favorite. Yes, they were old and faded, but they were so comfy.
I slip into bed and the wine buzzing through my body only drives more thoughts of Niko and his talented hands. So sexy and powerful, firm but gentle, and oh so giving.
I pull my shorts down and slide my finger along my wet slit. It feels so good. What I wouldn’t give for him to barge through the door right now and rip these off too.
He tore them off of me with the flick of his hand and then carried me, my bare ass on full display, into his office and dumped me on the floor like a sack of potatoes.
His office was so him. I never thought of Niko as an avid reader. Yes, he’s educated, but I figured he was too busy sharpening his knives to open a book. I try to picture him reading beside a crackling fire, but nothing takes shape.
I slip my finger into my wetness and moan, yearning for his cock to fill me. I add two more fingers and slide them in and out, imagining it’s him.
He said I needed to be punished, and I thought it was a joke. But it wasn’t. I smarted off accusing him of wanting to play daddy, yet my thighs clenched with my words.
I literally lost my mind when my clit dragged across the rough fabric of his jeans.And then he grabbed hold of my waist and ordered me to take it. To take my orgasm. His words of encouragement and praise eliminated any hesitation.
I rub my thumb over my sensitive bud and the ache for Niko rises to astronomical levels. My release slowly builds as I edge myself and stop, only to build it up again. It’s torture, the best kind of torture.
His words escape my mouth, “ Take it, Becca .”
My climax continues to build, but I’m not ready for this euphoric feeling to end. I’m not ready for my fantasy with Niko to be over. I edge myself while thinking of what he said to me, “You are so fucking wet. Fuck, and so beautiful when you come, the sounds you make, damn, that is my new favorite melody.” Did he really mean that or is he a master of seduction?
Moaning, I finger fuck myself faster, needing and wanting more. “So responsive. God, Becca, you’re so wet, so fucking tight.”
His fingers felt so good, invading me, filling me, and fucking me.
“You like it rough? Such a good girl, you’ll take my cock so well won’t you?”
And then he pushed his other fingers into my mouth, ordering me to suck. “Suck me like you want to suck my cock.” I’ve never wanted to wrap my lips around something so bad.
My release is so close, I can’t take it anymore. I need to come.
“Look at you, my little princess slut. So needy, starving. Is this what you’ll look like when you suck me. Such a dirty girl. My dirty princess.”
Imagining his heated eyes and remembering his filthy words is what sends me over the ledge of ecstasy, and my pussy tightens around my fingers, the wave of pleasure engulfing me.
I sigh and pull up my shorts. My body is sated, and I stare out the window to the star studded sky, making wishes I’m not sure I want to come true.
◆◆◆
A deep voice whispers, “Becca, are you asleep?”
I groan my response and turn over hugging my pillow.
“Bec?”
I crack an eye and find Niko at the side of my bed.
I don’t bother sitting up, annoyed with his intrusion. “What do you want?”
“It’s a surprise.”
“Now?”
“Yes, now.”
“We can’t do this tomorrow?”
“It’ll be gone tomorrow.”
I relent, sit up, and rub my eyes. He looks like a kid on Christmas morning, excited to see what Santa brought. I try to hold on to my annoyance but his childlike behavior is unnerving.
“What time is it?”
“Three.”
“In the morning?”
“Don’t complain. Most nights you aren’t even home until now.”
“How would you know?”
“Just grab a sweatshirt and slip on some shoes, but quickly.”
I grumble but do as I’m told and follow him outside. I hate to admit it, but I want to know what Niko Petrova is so excited about.
We take a lighted path towards a dome-like building and he punches in the code before entering.
It’s an observatory.
There’s white walls and a glass dome ceiling above us and a massive telescope centers the room. The floor is white marble and in one corner are two gray wingback chairs positioned on a large plush rug, in front of a small built-in bookshelf full of astronomy books. There are steps that lead up to another level circular in shape and large enough for a small desk and chair.
He opens a cabinet in the wall and a screen appears. He types something and the dome above us rotates and the glass slides apart as the telescope ascends towards the night sky. He takes my hand and gently squeezes, like we just shared a secret.
He leads me up the steps to the second level and turns his attention to the telescope, looking into the eyepiece and slowly turning multiple knobs.
“Got it!”
He steps back and positions me in front of him, his chest flush with my back. He points to the eyepiece, “Have a look. Devil's Comet.”
I lean down and gasp when my eyes come into focus. It’s so clear, a bright green ball of light with a long green hazy tail.
“Wow.”
His arms are around my waist but it feels natural, like he’s doing it without intention, absentmindedly, like you would with a longtime lover.
He says, “That comet is bigger than Mount Everest.”
I continue looking through the telescope, but all I can think about is his body against mine and his breath tickling my neck.
“Tell me more.”
I can hear the smile in his voice, “It’s one of the brightest periodic comets known, and it comes around every seventy-one years. It’ll grow brighter as it flies towards the sun.”
“It’s amazing.”
“I didn’t want you to miss it.”
My heart flutters, but I don’t respond. Instead, I move from the eyepiece so he can experience the magic. He leans over and I take him in, this man I’ve known for over a decade. But, do I know him? Really? The man before me is not the Niko I know. That Niko is controlling, powerful, and dangerous. This man is thoughtful, sensitive, and intelligent. Both Niko’s are sexy as hell.
His face lights up with aw and wonder, an expression I’ve witnessed only one other time, which was earlier today- when I was in his lap trembling in ecstasy.
One thing is for certain, both Nikos have a strong effect on me.
We take turns looking at the comet, and he positions the telescope to show me stars, planets, and even a close-up view of the moon’s surface. I wonder if this is how Columbus felt when he reached the New World.
He leads me down the steps and types on the computer panel. The telescope retracts and the dome opens fully, giving us a naked eye view of the night sky.
He gestures towards the wingback chairs and pours each of us some Zoyalov Vodka. We sit in the dark, in comfortable silence, drinking and staring at the night sky.
I don’t know how much time passes, and when he speaks, the vulnerability in his voice catches in my chest.
“My mother and I would stargaze almost every night. We owned a small farm out in the middle of nowhere. We had a couple cows, plenty of chickens, and a large garden. Ma worked as a seamstress and people would drive out to our farm for her to tailor their fancy clothes. We lived off the land for the most part, and she earned enough money from her sewing to keep the lights on and feed and care for the animals.
“We lived off the grid before it was cool,” he jokes.
“Mornings, I would work on the farm and she would sew or meet with clients. In the afternoon, she homeschooled me, and in the evening, after our nighttime chores, we would sit outside and gaze at the stars.”
I can make out his silhouette with the light of the night sky, and I hear him finish his vodka, setting down the glass. He takes the tips of my fingers in his hand and caresses them. Emotions engulf me as his light touch sends shivers through my body, and I hold my breath not wanting to break the spell.
“When I was sixteen, my mother began to lose her eyesight. One day, she said her vision felt blurry, so I suggested making a doctor’s appointment. Surprisingly, the following day her vision was crystal clear. She lied to me, and her eyesight only got worse over time. We didn’t have money for doctors and she didn’t want to worry me. I had no idea it had progressed until it was too late and she waspractically blind.”
He sighs heavily. “I blame myself for ignoring the signs.”
I squeeze his hand and he runs his thumb over mine. Butterflies fill my chest.
He’s quiet for a few moments and I think maybe he’s done sharing, but he swallows hard and continues. “My mother enrolled me in public school when I was a freshman, saying if I wanted to go to college, I needed to be challenged and prove myself amongst my peers. I thrived in high school. I was on the football team, a stellar student, and popular with the girls. I was living the dream, too caught up in my teen life to realize anything was wrong. Until the night I came home to her unconscious, lying at the bottom of the stairs. Her vision was so bad, it’s a wonder she hadn’t injured herself before.
“She finally broke down and told me the truth. I’ve only seen her cry twice and the other time was the day she died.
“I forced her to go to the eye doctor but it was too late. The disease had progressed so much that there was nothing anyone could do. Soon after that, she had to stop sewing.”
He inhales and exhales several times, reigning in his emotions.
“I had to find a way to make money, and fast. That’s when I started fighting. I’d do my chores before the bus picked me up in the morning, and when I came home, I’d take care of Ma. After she fell asleep, I rode my motorcycle into town and fought for money. I was good at it, and it put food on the table.”
“You’re a good son, Niko.”
“Hardly,” he says with bitter guilt.
“My mother was the strongest person I know, but she couldn’t fight the depression swallowing her. Most days, she never left her bed and getting her to take a bath was a fight. Stargazing was a thing of the past. I wanted to quit school to take care of her but she wouldn’t let me. I made doctor appointments with specialists, but she refused to go. She gave up.”
He refills our glasses, drinks his in one shot, and repeats. I think I hear a sniffle.
“You don’t have to continue.”
He clears his throat and says, “I need to.”
“Nadia Ivanova died two weeks before my high school graduation. We had argued a lot that month. She wanted me to apply to colleges but I wasn’t willing to leave her. Who would take care of her? We only had each other, and I refused to desert her.
“I’m not sure where she got them, but she took some pills, and when I came home from school I found her in bed, barely conscious. I tried to call 911 but she told me it was too late and she didn’t know how much time she had left to unload her burden.
She told me everything – How she fell in love with Boris Sokolov. How angry he was when he learned she was pregnant with his child. How he beat her and then ordered her death. She cried over the loss of my half-brother and told me how Ivan Petrova saved her life. I finally learned the truth of my father. Who he was and how much he loved her. She told me that Boris discovered she was still alive and immediately had my father murdered, for disobeying his orders.”
I wipe the tears from my eyes. “I’m sorry.”
“That’s when I really discovered my love for violence. I was already a great fighter, but the night my mother died, my heart died with her. All I cared about was revenge.”
His laugh is sinister, “Ironic. I sold the farm for an alarming amount. My father had purchased the property for her, and we had no idea the land was worth a fortune.
“I researched the Sokolov family, learning everything I could about them, but unfortunately, Boris was already dead. So, I targeted my revenge on Sergei. I enrolled in the same university and befriended him, my sole purpose to murder him.”
I know this part of the story, “But that didn’t happen.”
He chuckles, the sadness in his voice dissipates as he talks about my cousins. “Nope. And then I learned his mother was my aunt, and all bets were off. I couldn’t kill them, but there were a couple tense moments when Andrei seriously thought about taking my life.”
I laugh as he tugs me out of my chair and into his lap. “And then I met you.”
“You tolerated me.”
“I’m still tolerating you,” he teases.
I push at his chest but he holds me tight against him. “I’m four times your size, Printsessa . Give up before you make a fool of yourself,” he jokes.
I attempt to tickle him. It’s no use, but I’m no quitter, so I try to wrestle out of his hold, but something in his voice pulls at my heart. It almost sounds like a plea, “Stay.”
My chest tinges and I immediately stop.
“Tell me about growing up in Russia.”
It takes me a couple beats to form my thoughts.
“I had no idea how hard life actually was until we moved to Las Vegas. Papa was always smiling, laughing, and positive. He raised me with rose colored glasses, and then we left when I was eight. I was too young to see the bad, and if there was any, my father sheltered me from it. I didn’t realize until years later how poor we were, but I never wanted for anything. If love was used as a commodity, I would’ve been the richest girl in the world.”
“Leo is a good man.”
His fingers roam up and down my arm softly as I lean against his chest. I should move, but I can’t. I mean I physically can’t. My body is a magnet to his and separating us right now would be futile. We’ve never dug below the surface or had meaningful, deep conversations, not like this. Although some of it is sad, I’m grateful for this experience.
There’s no chance for us as lovers, but maybe, just maybe, we can be friends.
“In Russia he was a law abiding citizen. He taught chemistry and we lived in a small apartment near the college. We visited art museums every weekend for as long as I can remember, and he continued the tradition when we moved here. I think that was what helped me adjust. No matter what, we always had our weekends. Until I turned into a hormonal teenager and wanted to spend all my time with friends. But the love of art will never leave me.”
“You’re very talented, Becca.”
“You know I paint?”
“Of course. I know more about you than you think.”
I roll my eyes, “Okay, Mister know-it-all, what’s my favorite food?”
“Chocolate pudding.”
“Fine. Favorite flower?”
“Daisies.”
“That one is easy. What’s my favorite movie?”
“Mary Poppins, the original.”
“How did you know?”
“I’m me. I also know you love to dance to reggae, Cosmos are your favorite cocktail, and Redheaded Sluts are your go-to shot. God knows, I’ve seen you drink enough of them.”
It’s like a record scratched, and my body stiffens as the deafening silence falls over the room, broken only by me sharp intake of air.
He quickly buries his face into my hair and inhales deeply against my neck. “Fuck, I didn’t mean….”
I leap out of his lap and fake a smile, my voice shaky from embarrassment. “It’s late, or really early, depending on how you look at it. I should get back.”
He reaches for my hand but I shake him off. “I can find my way.” I quickly leave the observatory and rush up the walkway and into the house, to the safety of my room. I lean against the door and exhale, anticipating his knock, but he doesn’t come. I’m not sure if I’m relieved or disappointed, but instead of dissecting my heart, I crawl into bed and let sleep take me.