20. Emil
EMIL
Kiera wraps her arms around my neck and kisses me.
Fuck.
Every rational thought I had about taking this slow evaporates the moment her lips meet mine.
She tastes like chlorine and sweetness. My hands slide down her back, gripping her ass and pulling her flush against me.
She gasps into my mouth, and I swallow the sound, deepening the kiss until we're both breathless.
"Emil," she whispers against my lips, and hearing my name in that breathy voice sends a jolt of lust through my dick.
I walk us backward until her back hits the pool wall, the waterfall cascading nearby and creating a curtain of privacy. Not that I give a shit if anyone sees.
My mouth moves to her neck, tasting the water droplets on her skin. She arches into me, her fingers threading through my hair and tugging. The slight pain sends another wave of heat straight to my cock, which is already hard and pressing against her stomach.
"Tell me you want this," I growl against her throat. I need to hear her say it.
"I want this." Her voice is shaky with desire but certain.
That's all I need.
I hook my fingers into the sides of her bikini bottoms and pull them down her legs.
She kicks them off, and they float away somewhere in the pool.
I don't care where. My hands return to her thighs, spreading them as I lift her.
She wraps her legs around my waist instinctively, and the feel of her bare pussy against my stomach makes me groan.
"You're so fucking beautiful," I tell her, pulling back just enough to look at her.
Her wet hair is plastered to her head, her cheeks flushed, and her lips swollen from my kisses.
But it's her body that has my full attention now.
The way her breasts strain against that tiny bikini top, water droplets sliding down the curves and pooling in her ample cleavage.
I reach up and pull the top down, freeing her tits.
They're perfect. Not too big, not too small. Just right for my hands. And mouth.
I lower my head and take one nipple into my mouth, sucking hard. She cries out, her nails digging into my shoulders. I lavish attention on one breast, then the other, until she's writhing against me and begging.
"Please, Emil. Please."
I reach between us and shove my swim trunks down just enough to free my cock. The head brushes against her entrance, and we both freeze for a moment, relishing in the feel and anticipation.
"Don't you dare stop," she says, and then she's kissing me again, desperate and demanding.
I push inside her slowly, giving her time to adjust. She's so fucking tight, so wet and hot around me. I have to grit my teeth to keep from coming right then and there like some inexperienced teenager. When I'm fully seated inside her, I pause, letting her feel every inch of me.
"Okay?" I ask, my voice strained.
She nods, her eyes glazed with pleasure. "Move. Please move."
I don't need to be told twice.
I start with slow, deep thrusts, watching her face for any sign of discomfort. But all I see is pleasure. Her head falls back against the pool edge, exposing the long line of her throat. I lean forward and bite down gently on the sensitive skin there, marking her.
"Harder," she gasps, and fuck if that doesn't make me lose what little control I have left.
I grip her hips and start pounding into her, the water splashing around us with each thrust. She's moaning now, loud and uninhibited, and I love it. I love that she's not holding back, not pretending to be something she's not.
"That's it, baby," I growl in her ear. "Let everyone hear who's fucking you. Let them know you're mine."
I can feel her tightening around me, her body tensing as she gets closer to the edge.
I reach between us and find her clit, rubbing it in tight circles.
She screams, her inner muscles clamping down on my cock as she comes.
The sensation is too much. I thrust into her one last time and follow her over the edge, emptying myself inside her with a groan.
We stay like that for a long moment, both of us breathing hard, our bodies still connected while the water around us slowly starts to settle. I press my forehead against hers, trying to catch my breath.
"That was…" she starts, but trails off.
"Yeah," I agree. "It was."
I pull out of her slowly and lower her back into the water. She wobbles a bit, and I steady her with my hands on her waist. We float there together, naked and sated, the warm water lapping at our skin. She rests her head on my chest, and I wrap my arms around her, holding her close.
This is nice. Peaceful. I can't remember the last time I felt this relaxed.
Of course, that's when one of my captains decides to show up.
I hear footsteps approaching and look up to see Luca walking toward the pool. Kiera must hear him, too, because she suddenly tenses and tries to dive underwater to cover herself.
"Relax," I tell her, chuckling at her panic. "He's seen naked women before."
"Not me!" she hisses, her face bright red as she tries to position herself behind me.
Luca stops at the edge of the pool, his expression carefully neutral. He's smart enough not to look directly at Kiera, keeping his eyes on me instead. He leans down and whispers in my ear.
"There's a man here. Trying to get an extension on his loan."
I sigh. So much for a relaxing rest of the day.
"I'll be there in a minute," I tell him.
Luca nods and walks away. I turn back to Kiera, who's still trying to cover her breasts with her arms.
"Enjoy yourself by the pool," I tell her, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "I need to attend to some business."
"What kind of business?" she asks, her eyes curious.
"The boring kind," I lie. "I won't be long."
I pull myself out of the pool and grab a towel, drying off quickly before pulling on my clothes. When I glance back, Kiera is watching me with an expression I can't quite read. I give her a wink and head inside.
The walk to the interrogation room gives me time to shift gears. The tender lover from the pool disappears, replaced by the Pakhan who doesn't tolerate disrespect or failure. By the time I push open the door, I'm all business.
The man is sitting in a chair in the center of the room, his hands tied behind his back. He's sweating, his eyes darting around nervously. Good. He should be nervous. This is the third time he's been late on his loan payment. The third fucking time.
I'd felt sorry for him at first. He has a wife and three kids and a decent job. But he likes to gamble. Can't seem to help himself. I've given him more chances than I usually do, more than he deserves. But my patience has limits.
The man immediately breaks into panicked explanations. "I know I'm late again, but if you could just give me one more week, I swear I'll have the money. My wife's mother is sick, and we had to pay for her medical bills, and—"
"Stop," I say, holding up a hand.
He stops mid-sentence, his mouth hanging open.
The silence that follows is thick enough to choke on. I can see the exact moment he realizes his excuses won't work this time. His face goes pale, and a fresh sheen of sweat breaks out across his forehead. He starts trembling, the chair creaking beneath him as his body shakes.
"Please, Mr. Nikitin," he whispers, his voice breaking. "Please don't hurt me. I'll do anything. Anything."
But that's the problem with men like him.
They always say they'll do anything, but when it comes down to it, they keep making the same mistakes.
Keep gambling. Keep lying. And they keep thinking the rules don't apply to them until I prove otherwise.
I can't let this slide. Sometimes mercy is weakness, and weakness gets you killed in this business.
This man needs to understand that my generosity has a limit, and he's crossed it.
I walk slowly around the chair, letting the silence stretch. Luca leans against the wall, his arms crossed, watching. The man's eyes follow me, wide with fear.
"Do you know why you're in this room instead of my office?" I ask conversationally.
He shakes his head.
"This is what I call my interrogation room. It's where I bring people who require a bit more… convincing."
"Please," he starts, and then the words come pouring out in a rush. "Please, Mr. Nikitin, I'm begging you. I have kids. Three kids. They need their father. I'll get you the money, I swear on their lives. Just give me one more chance. One more week. Please."
He's crying now, the tears streaming down his face. He tries every tactic in his book. Pleading. Begging. Promising. Making excuses. But they won't work.
I let him babble. Let him get it all out. When he finally runs out of words, I lean down so we're eye to eye.
"You've had your chances," I say quietly. "Three of them, to be exact. That's two more than most people get. It's time you learned what happens when you don't pay up."
"No, please, I'll—"
Luca raises an eyebrow, silently asking if I want him to take care of the problem. It would be easy. Luca's good at this kind of thing. Efficient. Clean.
But I shake my head. This one's mine.
I pull back my fist and punch the man square in the face. I feel his nose break under my knuckles, hear the crunch of cartilage. Blood spurts immediately, running down his face and dripping onto his shirt. He screams, the sound muffled and wet.
I hear a gasp.
I look up, and my blood runs cold.
Kiera is standing in the doorway, her eyes wide with shock and horror.