Chapter Fourteen
Maron
Timofey drives his fist into my gut and watches as I double over, wheezing like a flat tire.
"This round’s yours, bratok ," I tell my brother after our brutal boxing session. This time I lost, and it’s been a while since that happened.
I slump down on the bench in the gym, gulping down my sports drink. Timofey sits down next to me, a grin plastered on his face despite his heavy breathing.
"That was good, Maron. I don’t often get to beat the shit out of you like that," he says, still riding the high of his victory.
"Yeah, whatever," I mutter, wiping my sweaty forehead with the towel around my neck. "Enjoy it while it lasts, pidurok . I’m not going easy on you next time."
Doing an intense workout session at the gym earlier today and pushing myself to my limits was not enough. I was still bursting with energy, and I needed an outlet for my sexual frustration. So, I called Timofey to see if he wanted to spar, and he did. Maybe next time, I shouldn’t exhaust myself before facing my brother in the ring. Especially if I want to kick his ass.
But I needed this. Ever since I saw Mindy at New York High and then at Walmart, she’s been constantly on my mind. I don’t know where to channel all my pent-up energy. Even now, as I sit here, I’m thinking about her. Her beautiful features, full lips, those perky, heaving breasts, and her round ass.
I quietly sit next to Timofey, lost in thought. The gym buzzes around us, the clanking of weights and whir of treadmills filling the air.
Finally, it’s my brother who breaks the silence. "So, what’s really got you all wound up lately, bro? You’ve been hitting the gym like you’re training to survive the apocalypse."
I hesitate, weighing whether to unload the shit that’s been eating at me. But Timofey knows me and he knows something’s going on. Him and Pavel are the two people closest to me. My brother waits patiently, his expression curious yet concerned.
Fuck it.
I take a deep breath, bracing myself to spill everything. "Eva showed up at my place a few days ago. Threw a fit worthy of a toddler because I won’t take her back."
"Whoa, hold up. You and Eva split? When did that happen?"
"A while ago," I murmur, not even trying to hide the annoyance in my voice. "Her clinginess was suffocating. And don’t even get me started on Rachel, her fucking twin sister. She couldn’t shut up about her. Rachel this, Rachel that - I swear my eye starts twitching just hearing the name." I fix Timofey with a serious look. "Listen up, Timo. Here’s some brotherly wisdom for you: never fuck a woman who has a twin."
Timofey grins, clearly amused. "Noted. I’ll add it to my pickup routine. ‘Hey baby, before we go any further: Got a twin sister? No? Great, let’s hit the sheets. Yes? Been nice knowing ya.’"
"Just trying to save you from the headache, bratok ." I smirk. "Anyway, here’s the kicker: Eva says she’s pregnant."
"Shit," Timofey says, his eyes widening to comical proportions. "You’re going to be a dad? Changing nappies and making friends with other parents at the playground?"
"Shut the fuck up, Timo," I snap. "Eva’s just being a manipulative bitch." I shake my head. "I told her I want proof and a DNA test."
"Is that it?" Tim narrows his eyes. "Why do I feel like that’s not all of it? I can smell another bombshell coming."
"You psychic now?" I fire back.
"Just fluent in Maron-ese. And right now, your face is screaming, 'I’ve got more shit to unload on my poor brother.' Come on man, spill before I get bored and leave."
"Alright, fine." I throw up my hand in defense. "I saw Mindy the other day. At fucking Walmart, of all places."
Timofey’s eyebrows shoot up. "Mindy? The hot singer from New York High? The one you were crazy about?"
"Yeah," I grunt, taking another swig of my drink.
"She still look good?"
"Sure." I want to tell him that ‘sure’ is an understatement, that Mindy is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, and that I wanted to take her between the freezers and the booze section and fuck her until we both pass out. But I hold back. Instead, I just say: "she had a kid with her. About five or six."
Timofey lets out a low whistle. "Oh, shit! You think it could be yours?"
I shake my head. "Nah. It’s been what, seven years?"
"Well, it adds up if the kid is six,” Timofey suggests, giving me a side-eye. "Why don’t you go and find out what’s going on?"
I scoff. "And say what? ‘Hey, remember me? The guy who kicked you out of his party, told you he never wanted to see you again, proceeded to get shot, and then pretended to be dead for the next seven years?’ Besides, the woman betrayed me, remember?"
Timofey rolls his eyes. "Come on, man. If she’s still on your mind after all this time, it means something. You can’t keep living like this. You’re on the fast track to becoming a grumpy, pissy old man."
"Poshel na khuy, mudak," I mutter, but there’s no real heat behind it.
"I’m serious, Maron," Timofey persists. "You need to do something. Or are you planning to spend the rest of your life jerking off to old memories?"
"Hey!" I punch his shoulder. "Watch it, dickhead."
Timofey laughs, rubbing his shoulder in pain. "I’m just looking out for my brother. Maybe it’s time to stop being a pussy and make a decision. Either go after her or forget about her for good."
I scoff, "That’s rich coming from a grumpy single guy."
Timofey’s eyes narrow. "For your information, I met someone interesting. She’s abroad now, but I’m meeting her soon when she’s back in New York. She’s originally from around here."
I raise an eyebrow, surprised by this revelation. "You’ve been holding out on me, Timo?"
Timofey shrugs, a slight smile tugging at his lips. "Not more than you. Besides, I’m just making sure it’s real before I say anything."
I give my brother a side glance and a pat on his back. "At least one of us is making progress."
"You could too." He gives me an annoyingly self-righteous grin. "If you just get your head out of your ass."
Normally, his statement would annoy me, but not now. I sit there for a moment, considering his words. The exact same words Pavel told me, just a few days ago.
"If I do, and it blows up in my face, I’m kicking your ass," I finally tell him.
"You can try," Timofey grins again. "Come on, let’s go another round. I want to see if I can punch you hard enough to make you puke."
I stand up, tossing my empty bottle into the trash. "You’re on," I growl, but my heart’s not in it. The image of Mindy and that little girl just won’t get out of my mind.
I know I’m distracted the moment we step back into the ring. Timofey immediately lands a solid right hook that sends me staggering.
"What the fuck, man?" he asks, lowering his gloves. "You’re not even trying."
"Pizdets." I grimace.
Timofey sighs, pulling off his gloves. "Alright, Maron, seriously… What the fuck is really going on with you?"
I slump against the ropes, feeling tired under the weight of my own thoughts. Being the tough fucking alpha all the time suddenly feels… draining.
I curse under my breath, feeling uncomfortable sharing the shit that’s been plaguing me. "Been feeling off lately. Grumpy, distant. Like I’m watching my life go by, and I’m not even in it."
"No shit, Sherlock," Timofey says. "Tell me something I don’t know already. And it looks like this shit with Mindy is only going to make it worse."
I glare at him. He’s right. We both know it. And I fucking hate it, but I can’t deny it anymore.
"Seeing her with that kid… it hit me hard," I admit, no longer caring about being seen as a weak piece of shit. "Made me think about what I might be missing out on."
Timofey nods, his expression shifting from tough to annoyingly empathetic. He furrows his brow and looks at me with childlike innocence in his eyes. Normally, I’d give him shit for that or punch him in the face, but I’m just not in the mood right now.
"Listen, Maron." he begins, seemingly mulling something over. "You’ve been through hell since the Shirkov fiasco. But you can’t keep living in the past. You’ve got to move forward somehow. Maybe reaching out to Mindy isn’t the answer, but you need to do something. Join a club, go on a date, hell, adopt a dog or something. Just… live a little."
I run a hand through my sweat-soaked hair, considering his words. "It’s not that easy."
"Nothing worth doing ever is," Timofey says, tossing me a towel. "Now come on, let’s get home and hit the showers. You stink worse than your attitude."
As I follow him out of the ring, feeling like a piece of shit, I can’t deny how true his words ring. Maybe these last seven years have taken a toll on me and I’ve become a distant asshole. Maybe it is time to come out of the shadows and do something with my life.
But first, I need to figure out what to do about Mindy.
I pause at the gym’s exit, my hand on the door. The cool air from outside seeps in, contrasting with the stuffy warmth of the gym.
"You coming, or what?" Timofey calls, already getting into his Bentley. The engine of the car comes to life, purring softly.
"Yeah," I murmur, tossing my gym bag into the trunk before sliding into the passenger seat.
The city lights blur past as we drive through the winding roads leading to our family estate. The silence between us is comfortable, filled with unspoken understanding. But as we approach the wrought iron gates of the mansion, I still can’t stop myself from thinking about Mindy. Does she live in a place like this now? Or is she still struggling to make ends meet? Is that little girl hers? If yes, is she raising her alone? Or is there some guy in the picture?
The gates open silently, the guards recognizing the car. As we pull up to the grand entrance, I spot a light on in my mother’s wing.
"Thanks for beating the shit out of me today, bratok ." I say, looking at my brother.
"Any time." Timofey grins.
Exhausted but wired, I make my way to my bathroom, desperate to wash away the day’s sweat and tension. As I remove my clothes, thoughts of Mindy flood my mind once again, and I can feel myself becoming aroused. My erection is hard and insistent, demanding release.
Quickly, I strip down completely and step into the shower, turning on the water. It cascades over my naked body, warming my skin and soothing my muscles. My throbbing cock feels heavy and urgent in my hand.
I let the water pound against my skin, each drop igniting a fire within me. I grip my shaft with one hand and let out an animalistic moan as I begin to stroke my dick. Mindy’s image continues to swirl in my mind, her curves and softness driving me wild.
I glide my hand up and down my length with fervent strokes. The pounding water echoes in sync with my rapid movements. Each thrust of my hand is like plunging into Mindy’s core, imagining her gasps and moans as I fuck her. My pace quickens as I keep stroking until, finally, the pressure becomes too much.
" Blyad ," I groan as I throw back my head, feeling the waves of ecstasy approaching. My orgasm comes fast, nearly tearing through me. It’s savage and leaves me even hungrier for the woman on my mind. My cum shoots out in thick waves, and with a deep, guttural growl, I erupt into my palm.
But even as I bathe in the warmth of my ecstasy, I know it can never compare to the real thing.
As my breathing begins to return to its normal pace, I press my back against the cold, tiled wall, letting the water stream over me. This is so incredibly fucked up. Even after all this time, after all the shit that’s happened, I still crave her with every goddamn fiber of my being. Seven fucking years have passed, and Mindy Williams still has me in her grip. She’s etched into my skin, coursing through my veins like a drug I can’t get out of my system. All I have is the memory of her body when I jerk off.
You’re a joke, Korolev.
As the last waves of pleasure subside, I step out of the shower and grab a towel to dry myself, feeling like a pathetic piece of shit. I move closer to the mirror and stare at my reflection there: the man that stares back to me seems broken. Torn between the past and the present.
With a grunt, I force myself back to reality. I must pay a visit to my mother. I push thoughts of Mindy to the darkest corners of my mind, locking them away until the next moment of weakness. I know it will be back soon. Her image is always there, just beneath the surface, ready to emerge whenever my guard is down. And frankly, fighting it is getting fucking exhausting.
Maybe Timofey and Pavel are right.
Sure, Mindy betrayed me, and our relationship ended up being a fucking catastrophe. But I can’t keep going through life like this, with her image haunting me every hour of the day.
I must do something about it.