Chapter 13 – Egor
“You’re late.”
Grandpa apprehended Nikolai, who strolled into the private section with a smug grin and a blonde arm candy. Separating women from Niko was close to impossible. Many had tried, including Kir himself, but no one had succeeded. I doubted anyone could.
He whispered to the woman and let her go before coming up to us, looking far from apologetic. He smoothened a crinkle on his jacket and started to work his charm. Our old man grunted when Niko played the classic I-forgot-to-set-my-alarm card, and I suppressed a grin. We were all weary of his tactics.
Kir and his band of older men began drilling Niko about his operations in LA. I joined in on the conversation but only made it halfway after I realized Freya no longer stood by the bar.
The men’s heavy voices quickly faded into the quiet noise when I craned my neck and scanned the room alertly. Had she tried to leave? That wouldn’t have been possible because Anatoly and my men stood guard around the premises. One of them would have spotted her if she’d tried.
Where else could she have gone?
As I considered going around the room to search for her, I caught the glimmer of her silver dress and long brown hair swishing below her waist. Her head angled left and right, undoubtedly in search of me, like a lost puppy.
How endearing.
“I’ll be back.”
Niko’s eyes followed me but soon lost contact as I walked away from the group and ambled closer to her.
She was looking toward the stage when I came up behind her. I wound an arm around her waist, drawing her close, and she flinched. I found her little display funny and pressed a smile at the back of her neck. Her scent tickled and ran straight into my bloodstream.
I pressed a kiss on her earlobe, and her body molded into mine. “ My love .” My growl drew a gasp from her. “Where the fuck did you go without telling me?”
She turned her face to mine, and my eyes dropped to the fullness of her red-painted lips when she spoke. “The bathroom. Didn’t know I needed permission to pee, m y love .”
I backed away from her with a proud grin. One day, I was going to teach that smart mouth of hers a lesson.
After an hour of private talk with the men in an inner room Kir had reserved strictly for us and fighting off Niko’s pestering to meet “the girl,” I took Freya home.
Anatoly turned off the engine and crushed a glowing cigar butt on the ground before leaving us. I looked from him and back to her unmoving feet.
“Your little act back there was quite the performance.”
“Well, I’m glad you liked it. Maybe next time you could, I don’t know, give me a heads up before shoving me in your grandfather’s face as your girlfriend-slash-future fiancée?”
“You would not have agreed to do it.”
Freya ran her fingers through her hair, and the strain on her face was clear. She was fighting an internal battle, struggling within herself not to blow up on me like she desperately wanted to. Her chest heaved, and she let out a deep exhale, her eyes flashing and her fingers curling.
“Bummer. I wonder why I wouldn’t accept to be a part of such a stupid plan.”
I made a gesture with my shoulders, showing her how ineffective her words were on me. “Call it what you want. It worked.”
She looked like she wanted to strangle me. “What the hell was that? If honesty means something to you, I’ll tell you this for free: That was truly the crappiest shit I’ve ever heard. I am a prisoner here.”
I didn’t even blink.
“A prisoner doesn’t have a quarter of the luxuries and liberties you’ve been given. Be grateful.”
“Oh, sure.” Sarcasm dripped from her tone, her eyes flashing with hate. “Thank you, dearest kidnapper. Where would I ever be without you? Oh, wait! I know. I would be out there living my best life yet with people who care about me.”
Her voice cracked at the end, and she looked away before wiping her eyes. I stared at her, poker-faced.
“I don’t know how to handle crying women. So, deal with—” I waved a hand, motioning to her teary eyes, “—that yourself. Come on, let’s go. It’s getting cold out here.”
Freya gnashed her teeth and tried to move again but winced like she was in visible pain. I looked down. The heels strapped around her ankles had caused some damage. Her skin glowed red under the dim parking lot lighting, and her feet were slightly swollen.
My brows creased. “What’s the problem now?”
She sighed and huffed at the roof like she couldn’t stomach any more of me. “I can’t walk in these death traps. You might not have noticed, but I don’t...I don’t do heels. Boots and sneakers are more of my specialty. Things that are more down to earth, though I know you can’t relate.”
I’d noticed.
“Take them off.”
“Just great,” she mumbled, crouching to undo the straps. She uttered something along the lines of making her walk barefoot to prove a point about me being in charge.
Her tantrum bursts never failed to amuse me. It was like watching a kid whine and complain when the parent refused to let things go her way.
Freya’s perception of me was no secret. She loathed me, detested me, and wished, above all things, that I fully paid for all my crimes in a maximum-security prison.
She rose to her full height, silver heels clicking in her grasp, and gave me a what now? stare.
I suppressed a smirk, closed the distance, and picked her up bridal style. Her eyes grew to the size of squash balls, and her breathing sped up.
“Wh—what are you doing?”
Her body was so warm—our lips so close that I could almost taste them. Just one tilt of my head would bring us together.
“You have eyes. What does it look like?”
“I know. But why are you carrying me?”
“Dumb question. Try again.”
She sucked in a deep breath and blurted, “I’m heavy. Your arms will hurt.”
Was that care I heard?
We got into the elevator, and she leaned forward to press the button. When she tilted, I caught a glimpse of her cleavage and remembered what they really looked like. My blood ran hot, and my cock made a reaction in my pants.
Slowly, the doors slid shut, and she squirmed in my arms.
She really had to stop moving, or else I was going to damn everything I knew about restraint and kiss her.
“A feather weighs more than you. So, hush now and stay still.”
She fell mute and snuggled closer with her arms thrown over my neck.
I knew she’d only been talking to distract herself, but we had to face it: It wasn’t working.
Her eyes held mine during the ride up to the penthouse, and a tensed-up bubble of silence enveloped us, save for the sound of her shaky exhales. The hint of vodka in her breath hit my face, and I caught the daze in her eyes.
She wasn’t the only one feeling strangely uneasy. If only she knew half the things she did to me. Her floral perfume was driving me crazy, making me want to sniff her neck and kiss her shoulder.
The doors slid open, and I hurriedly took her over to the couch in the living room. I dropped her, and she sat still in silence, only making irrelevant adjustments on the arm straps of her dress while glancing at the view through the windows.
She shifted uncomfortably and was unusually quiet.
I took a step forward and stopped. My mind urged me to move forward and ignore her for the rest of the night, but somehow, the detective must have charmed me because I heard myself speaking.
“Anna’s out. If you’re hungry, you can use the kitchen.”
Then, I walked away, not waiting for her to say anything.
****
I was in my bedroom, undoing the buttons of my shirt, when I heard light footsteps from the hallway.
The door was open, and I saw her walk past with a straight face before she reappeared, poking her head inside. Her eyes flickered sideways, like a kid cautious of getting caught, and she summoned courage, positioning the rest of her body by the door, leaning against the frame with folded arms.
I lifted an eyebrow. “What are you doing?”
“You have eyes. What does it look like?”
Touché.
A smirk slid up my lips, and I popped out another button. I felt a thrill when her eyes followed it. She tugged her lower lip between her teeth, shrugged, and crossed the threshold, sauntering into the room. Her fingers traced a small painting on the wall, and she hiccupped. My little detective was mildly under the influence of alcohol. Astonishing.
After swiping her index across the dresser, she turned around and came up to me, chewing the insides of her cheeks with her hands clasped behind her.
“You watched me change.” Her voice was low, daring. “I think it’s only fair if I get to do it, too.”
This was nothing more than a challenge to her, a way to prove her point that she could be in charge if she wanted to.
Arguing with her would do no good.
The smirk on my lips turned into a full-fledged grin.
I pulled the shirt over my head and felt the heat of her gaze on my muscles as they flexed. Her eyes touched the lengths of my body, from my feet to the rips on my torso and the ink rising from my chest to the side of my neck.
She took another step closer. Close enough for me to see the light freckles on her cheeks and feel the heat radiating from her body.
Unexpectedly, her fingers shot up to my neck, and she traced the wolf's design intently while studying it.
“What does this mean?”
Her touch awakened a burning fire within me, a primal desire courting through every cell of my body and refusing to be silenced.
I inched closer, eliminating every possible gap between us until her chest was pressed against mine.
“Those are symbols, not words.”
“And yet symbols have meanings too. Tell me.”
“No.”
“Okay.” She smacked her lips, her eyes lit with amusement. “I’ll just ask another question then. Who’s Darya?”
My forehead dipped in a confused crease. “What’s it to you if you know who she is?”
Like a little kid, she moved her shoulder and swayed back and forth on the balls of her bare feet. She was both cute and amusing, and it turned me the fuck on.
Her teeth went down on her lower lip, making them fuller as she peered at me from under thick dark lashes.
“Probably nothing,” she hummed. “You know more about me than I know about you. I only know what the papers say, and, in my opinion, that’s not sufficient. I should have sufficient information about the man who whisked me away in the back of a van.”
I chuckled, unable to hold it in. Her words had a slight slur around the edges, but her consciousness was sharp and as clear as ever.
“We didn’t use a van from Los Angeles to Moscow.”
Another shrug. “Van...private jet.... What’s the difference? I’m here, aren’t I? You got what you wanted.”
Her finger lingered on my neck, taking its time to trail every foreign symbol inked on my skin. My skin sang, and I wasn’t sure how much longer I was willing to contain the roaring flame that burned inside me.
I snatched her wrist and glared. “Go to bed, Freya.”
“I like it when you call my name.”
She moved her fingers to my lips.
Innocent eyes, puckered lips, gentle touch. My erection strained hard in my briefs until I thought I would burst from pent-up frustration.
“If you keep talking, I’m going to do something that we’d both regret.”
“Something like what? Forcing beef stroganoff down my throat?”
A mental picture of my cock in her mouth made me even harder.
“Fuck beef stroganoff. If I start with you—”
“I want you to just start.”
Goddammit, woman.
My last thread of restraint snapped, and I cupped the back of her head and brought her lips to mine. They were much softer than I’d constantly imagined—much softer and tasted sweeter. My head grew hazy, feeling lost in her scent. Her eyes closed, and she sighed into my mouth, placing her hands on my chest to keep her balance.
“You haven’t begged.”
It was a growl against her mouth—a subtle hint—and the sudden light in her eyes said she remembered. My words from days ago hung in the air between us.
Soon, Freya. Very soon, you’ll be begging me to touch you.
Her cheeks turned rosy, and she chewed on her lip. Despite being tipsy, she fought an inner battle with her pride. “Nope. You’re not going to make me beg.”
“Cocky much?”
“Egor….”
“Then, maybe I should stop kissing you.” I started to move away, and her eyes bulged in panic.
“No! I mean, I, um…. Just don’t go yet. God, this is messed up,” she mumbled under her breath and swallowed. “Please. Please , kiss me.”
I smirked. “That’s a good start. What else?”
Her gaze fell to my lips, and she threw her arms around my neck. “Um, please make…make love to me?”
My gaze darkened. “I can’t do that, Freya.”
“Oh.” Her sudden bashfulness left me intrigued. “Then, do whatever you can. Just…don’t let this stop. I like this. I can’t explain it, but I—”
“You should stop talking now.”
I wound her hair around my fist, tipped her chin upwards, and devoured her mouth in the most ravenous ways I knew how. It didn’t matter how deep our tongues went; it felt like I couldn’t get enough of her. She moaned, and the sultry sound traveled straight to the bulge between my legs.
“Turn around,” I ordered, and whining, she twisted around so I unzipped her dress.
“Is it so bad that I want this?”
She probably didn’t know it, but the sound of her voice was worsening my situation, and my cock strained painfully in my pants.
“Depends on how badly you want it.”
Hastily, I pulled down the zipper, shrugged the cloth to the floor, and placed her naked body on the bed.
My nails dug into the softness of her thighs, and she sighed. “ Very badly.”
Her perky tits stretched taut, aching to be in my mouth, and the heat of her body made my head swim. I settled between her legs, kneaded one of her breasts in one hand, and skillfully pulled down her black thong with the other. Her back arched, and her eyes lost focus.
She was so perfect, so fucking beautiful, I could gaze at her all night.
With a nudge of my palm, I spread her knees apart and muttered, “ Fuck.”
Gooseflesh broke out on her skin, a visible sign of pleasure and her unease. I kissed her, tasted her lips with my tongue, and sucked the breath out of her lungs. Her breaths were hot and raspy against my chin.
“Egor, I’ve never...I’ve never been with a man,” she blurted.
Her shy side was an unexpected turn, making me want more.
“The texts, Freya.” I struggled to form actual words at the sight of her glistening pink pussy. “I figured.”
I brushed my palm over the short silk-brown hair on her mound and stroked her where she ached. Her eyes rolled, and she slid a palm down her stomach, reaching over her valley to cover my finger with hers.
She pressed my fingers deeper and guided them to her entrance.
“Not yet.”
Gently, I swatted her hand away, lowered my face between her legs, latched my mouth on her, and grazed my teeth on her clitoris. She was wet and warm.
“Oh, my—a h.... ” Her breath hitched in her throat, and she gurgled something incoherent. She spread her quivering knees wider, thighs clenched around my face. I was greedy with her, slurping and licking, while she writhed and moaned incoherent babbles of pleasure.
“How does that feel?”
“Good. It feels good,” she mumbled and jerked her hips.
I smiled against her soaking lips. “I haven’t even started.”
“It tickles. Is it supposed to tickle?”
“That’s just the beginning. Soon, you’ll feel like you’re floating.”
I rose to my knees, grabbed her by the waist, and slid the tip of my cock between her folds. She tried to touch me, but I restrained her.
“Steady, Freya. It’s going to hurt, but only for a while.”
“Okay.”
She lifted her head to look at me, watching with hooded eyelids as I eased into her, letting my cock glide through her soaking-wet folds. She whimpered and flinched and tried to push me off her. But I saw she wanted this just as much as I did.
I fucked her gently, as gently as I could, even though it was painfully slow.
She groped her breast, and her head fell back, lips parted, all spread and ready for me.
My jaw clenched. The expression on her face was priceless, and I tried to remember if I’d seen any woman more beautiful. I pinned her hands down over her head, careful not to hurt her but hard enough to let her know I wasn’t about to go slower. I pulled out, dove back in, and she heaved.
Panting, her fingers curled over my wrist, and she jerked her hips forward to accommodate my full length. I slid deeper, getting lost in her warmth. I pressed a kiss to her shoulder, the dimple on her cheek, and the tip of her nose.
Our pace quickened, breathing grew rash in perfect sync, and I brushed a kiss on her neck, moving my hips more aggressively. Her breasts danced, and I took a nipple in my mouth, groaning when I heard her moan.
“Do you like that?”
“Yeah.”
“Want me to go deeper?”
“Yes.”
Our eyes met. “Say it.”
My hips bucked, and she cried, her breath short, “I want you to go deeper.”
I was panting now like a beast in heat, getting held up in a dizzying suspension, like the one only people in parachutes experienced. I drove myself into her harder, and she whined with good pleasure, a signal that she was almost there.
I pushed her knees up higher. We were so close; I felt the knot at the root of my cock loosening. And I was slipping fast.
My undoing was when she brought her lips to mine and exchanged a tender kiss.
With a growl, I pulled out in the nick of time, came on her stomach, wiped off the sticky muck pooled around her navel, and watched her sleep.
****
The morning came rather quickly.
I moved my arm, adjusting to have a better view of the woman sleeping in my bed.
She was a sight to behold, even at rest. Her long brown hair spilled across the pillow like a dark waterfall, and her face...her face was a work of art. Soft, delicate, and vulnerable.
Even her small snores and parted lips looked cute.
But I wasn't a man who got caught up in vulnerability. I took what I wanted and fought for what I needed. And it was amusing how I suddenly felt like I couldn't do without having her whenever I wanted.
She was right; I'd brought her into my world, recklessly put her in the midst of darkness and danger. And yet, in this moment, she looked like an angel, unblemished by the brutality that surrounded me. I felt a pang in my chest, something I couldn't quite explain. It wasn't weakness; no, I didn't do weakness.
I pushed the thought aside, my eyes narrowing as I took in the sight of her. She was mine now—mine to protect, mine to possess.
For a moment, I just lay there, watching her sleep. I traced the curve of her lips and ran my fingers through her hair, and she stirred.
A gentle sigh escaped her lips, and her eyelids fluttered. Her arms stretched above her head, and she didn't give the sheets a chance to slip lower below her breasts.
She gripped them close and blushed when she greeted me. “Good morning.”
Her bedhead, radiant skin, and dimple made her even sexier, and I wanted her again.
“Morning.” I leaned forward and kissed her temple. She turned scarlet. “Sleep well?”
“Look,” she blurted out, her cheeks reddening further, “I'm sorry about last night. I don't know what came over me. I should have—"
“Don't,” I cut off. “No apologies. Last night was intentional, on both ends. You're mine now, Freya. You belong to me. And I'm not going to hurt you unless you try something stupid to contradict me.”
Her face filtered through many quizzical expressions, and she finally sobered, like she'd settled on one thought.
“And what if I do? What will you do?”
I withdrew with a frown. She looked at me like she expected something different, but my answer came in a heartbeat. “If you try to defy me, Freya, I will kill you.”