Chapter 12 #2
He runs his finger along his throat, a faint glimpse of blood on his skin. “Putting your hands on me was a mistake.”
I pick up the Stalin bust—which what the actual fuck?—from his desk, throw it on the ground, and stomp on it. I grin in satisfaction as it breaks.
“Was it?” I ask.
He shoves back his chair and stands. “I’m a Bratva boss. You’re merely a capo, barely above a soldier. Do you need me to educate you on ranks within our world?”
“I don’t give two fucks about rank or who you are.” I crack my neck. “Titles mean nothing to me. I only care about the safety of my wife.”
“Wife?” he huffs out. “You don’t care about Liliya.”
“It may be hard for a man as self-centered as you to understand, but when I said my vows to your sister, I vowed to protect her. It’s what real men do—boss, capo, fucking peasant.” I pound my finger on his desk. “Don’t forget that.”
“You don’t want to cross me, Lastro.”
“I don’t care about you, Aleksy. But one thing I do care about is respect.
Not for you since you don’t deserve it. But respect toward me.
You speak to me like that again, I’ll cut out your fucking tongue and make your sister eat it for dinner.
” I salute him. “Pleasure speaking to you today, brother-in-law.”
He doesn’t try to stop me as I leave.
Neither does Lev nor the men at his gate.
Maggie shakes her head when I walk into the kitchen. “Still nothing.”
This new wife will be the death of me.
I won’t die at the hands of a murderer.
It’ll be from a heart attack from the stress she gives me.
“Son of a bitch.” I snatch the plate of food from the island, storm out of the kitchen, and march up the stairs to Liliya’s bedroom.
I don’t bother knocking on the closed door before walking in.
“Why the fuck aren’t you eating?” I pause at the empty room.
My gaze immediately shifts to the open window.
It’s cracked, a slight breeze flowing in from outside.
No fucking way did she squeeze through that and jump from the second story.
But after everything she’s pulled, I wouldn’t put it past her.
I set the plate on the nightstand and walk toward the window but stop at the sound of water running.
The bathroom door is shut, and I jiggle the handle.
Unlocked.
Again, I enter without knocking.
Privacy is a privilege, which my runner has yet to earn.
She’s lucky I haven’t taken her damn door off the hinges.
The fogged-up shower door reminds me of killing the doctor.
I smirk, remembering the perfect sight of him bleeding out.
Instead of “We Will Rock You,” Liliya hums a song I don’t recognize.
I lean back against the vanity, crossing my arms and ankles, and listen to her. My throat turns dry at the view of her naked body moving behind the steamed door. Every few seconds, she swings her hips to the beat of whatever she’s humming.
I make out the hourglass curves of her body.
The swells of her breasts and ass.
This is fucking porn-worthy, and I can’t even fully see her naked.
My cock jerks when Liliya runs her hands down her breasts.
She pauses her humming, and I swear, I hear her call me a smug asshole.
I have to stop myself from stripping out of my clothes and joining her.
I want to fuck my wife in there.
I want to make her mine.
Just when I can’t take it anymore, the shower shuts off.
Like my wife subconsciously knew her big, bad husband was contemplating coming in to take what was his.
I grab the towel hanging on the hook when she opens the shower door.
Liliya comes into view, her naked body dripping wet, and blinks away water droplets.
I hand her the towel at the same time she reaches toward the hook.
Her eyes flash open, and she screams. She holds the towel tight against her body to cover herself.
“What the?” She staggers backward. “What the hell do you think you’re doing in here? Get out!”
So brave, my new wife.
She should know I’m not tolerant of attitude.
“You’re not eating,” I say simply, returning to my spot against the vanity.
I may want to fuck the shit out of my wife, but I’m not a fucking creep who’ll take her against her will.
She stares as wet hair sticks to the side of her face.
Seconds pass, and I wait for her to answer.
“Get out,” she says again. Her body shivers as she points at the door.
“You’re not eating,” I repeat.
“That’s none of your concern.”
“My wife starving herself is my business.”
I can’t stop myself from licking my lips while taking her in.
Even covered up now, she’s still sexy as hell. My mind floods with thoughts of all the ways I could pleasure her.
And all the ways I could punish her.
Water drips from her tan skin onto the stone shower floor.
Her breasts move as her chest heaves in and out.
I bite into my tongue, fixating on her shaven pussy glistening with water.
My face would fit so well between those toned thighs.
My mouth waters as I think about it.
Her gaze rises to mine in an almost slow motion, and a low whimper releases from her thick lips.
Adrenaline rushes through me.
I push myself off the vanity, and the swift movement snaps her back to reality.
She clears her throat. “I think we need to set some boundaries in this marriage.”
I stop at the shower door, looming over her. “I think you need to drop your towel.”
She draws back, glowering at me. “I think you’ve lost your ever-loving mind.”
“Oh, I lost my mind a long time ago, guaio.”
I crowd her inside the shower. She backs up against the wall, and I lightly tug on her towel.
It drops at our feet. Goose bumps coat her skin, and when she attempts to reach for the towel, I grip her wrist, stopping her.
She flattens her back against the wall, splaying her hands to each side of her, and sucks in deep breaths.
My body is on fire as I brush my thumb along her chin, tracing it over her jawline.
She quivers, opening her mouth, but no words come out.
I’ve never felt a pull like this toward anyone before. It’s like I lose all my willpower and control around her.
Lowering my hand, I brush it down her stomach, straight between her legs.
So fucking close to her pussy.
I give her a second to stop me.
To smack my hand away.
She slightly parts her thighs farther.
I’m fully dressed while she’s completely nude.
This is my way of still having power.
I always like being in control.
That’s all the invitation I need.
I cup her pussy tight, showing my ownership. She gasps, clawing her nails against the tiled wall. Opening my palm, I rub her warmth.
God, she’s soaked.
Her wetness nearly drenches my hand.
“Guaio,” I whisper, skimming my finger along her slit, “would you like me to play with your pussy?”
She whimpers again, dropping her hand to dig her nails into my arm through my shirt.
I tip my head forward, running my lips along her jawline. “Say yes, Liliya.” I press a kiss along her soft skin and run my thumb over her clit. “Give in to your husband. Let me make you feel good.”
“Yes,” she moans, shifting her head so that her lips brush against mine.
My moan is loud and travels straight from my chest. I suck and then bite on her bottom lip before dropping to my knees. My mouth waters as I raise her toned thigh, settling it over my shoulder. The heel of her foot digs into my back.
Then, like a starved man, I eat my wife’s pussy.
I devour, suck, and lick her—losing myself in her sweetness.
While my wife may be trouble, her pussy tastes like pure heaven.
I thrust one, then two, then three fingers inside her.
Groaning, I love how wide I’m stretching her—prepping her cunt for my cock.
Speaking of cock, mine aches, and I know blue balls are in my near future.
There’s not a number high enough to explain how fucking bad I want to drop my pants and fuck her against this wall.
Liliya pants above me, her fingers now digging through my hair, scratching at my scalp.
Moans and curses leave her lips like secrets she never wanted to confess.
This is the second time I’ve been in the shower with someone in the past twenty-four hours.
The first time was for murder.
This time, it’s to pleasure my wife.
While I enjoy bloodshed, I’d much prefer to taste Liliya.
“Please,” she begs. “I’m … oh my fucking Gooood.”
Her body shakes, her limbs trembling.
I sink another finger inside her, my pace moving faster, thrusting as hard as I fucking can. Even though I hardly know her—don’t even know her middle fucking name—I one hundred percent know when she’s about to come on my tongue.
Her thighs squeeze around my head, pressing against my ears, while her hips buck against my face.
I relish the taste and aroma of her cum on my tongue as she lets herself go.
I peek up, taking in every second of her orgasm.
How she shuts her eyes, how her lips pinch together, her fucking beauty.
I hold my palm against her waist, pushing it against the wall to stop her from collapsing to her knees. Her thighs fall limp, loosening around my body, and I ease myself back.
I wait until she’s fully come down from her high before standing tall. Staring her down, my standoffish demeanor returns.
I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, my lips only inches from hers. “I ate, and now it’s your fucking turn, guaio.”