Chapter 11 Mila
Mila
I can’t believe I’m considering this.
My knees hit the hardwood floor before my brain fully realizes what I’m doing. Alexei stands in front of me with an infuriating smirk on his face, and I hate him. Hate that he’s making me do this. Hate that part of me wants to do it anyway.
“This doesn’t mean anything,” I tell him.
“Keep telling yourself that, Zaika.”
“You’re a bastard.”
“We’ve already established that.” He reaches down and cups my chin, tilting my face up to meet his eyes. “Show me how badly you want my help.”
I reach for his belt buckle with shaking hands. This is insane. Degrading. Exactly the kind of power play I’ve spent weeks resisting. But Irina’s face flashes through my mind. My nephew’s tiny features. The thought of them dead because I was too proud to bend.
The buckle comes undone. I move to his zipper next.
“Look at me,” he orders.
I do. His blue-gray eyes are darker than I’ve ever seen them.
“You don’t have to do this,” he says quietly.
“Yes, I do.”
“No. You don’t. I’ll help your sister regardless.”
I freeze with my hand on his zipper. “What?”
“I’m going to help her, Mila. I just wanted to see if you’d go through with it.”
Fury explodes through me. I yank his zipper down hard enough to make him wince. “You son of a bitch. I want you to suffer.”
“Then make me.”
I pull his cock free and wrap my hand around the base. He’s already hard. Already leaking from the tip. The weight of him in my palm sends heat and moisture gathering between my legs despite my anger.
He’s huge. Thick enough that my fingers barely meet around him. The memory of how he felt inside me three weeks ago makes my core clench.
“You like this,” I accuse. “You like having me on my knees.”
“I’d like you anywhere. But this is a particularly good view.”
I stroke him and watch his jaw clench with the effort of staying still. His hips twitch forward like his body wants what his mind is trying to control.
“How do I make this good for you?” I ask.
“You’ve never done this before?”
“Shut up and just tell me what you like.”
Something crosses his face. Surprise maybe, or satisfaction. “Start slow. Use your tongue. Pay attention to what makes me react.”
I lean forward and lick the tip. He tastes like salt and musk and something uniquely him. His hips jerk forward involuntarily.
“Like that?” I ask.
“Exactly like that.”
I do it again and circle the head with my tongue while my hand works the base. He groans low in his throat, and the sound makes me bolder. Makes me want to hear it again.
I take him into my mouth, just the tip at first. My lips stretch around him, and the sensation is foreign but not unpleasant. I watch his face as I take him deeper. His eyes flutter closed. His breathing becomes ragged.
“Fuck, Mila.”
I pull back and look up at him. “Tell me what you want.”
“Take me deeper. Use your hand on what you can’t fit.”
I follow his instructions, hollowing my cheeks and sucking while my hand strokes in time with my mouth. He’s too big to take all the way. My jaw already aches from the stretch, but judging by the sounds he’s making, I’m doing something right.
“That’s it,” he breathes. “Just like that.”
His hand threads through my hair. Not pushing or forcing, just holding me there while I find my rhythm. The gentleness surprises me. I expected him to take control. To use my mouth for his pleasure without care for my comfort.
Instead, he lets me set the pace.
I experiment with my movements. Swirl my tongue around the head. Suck harder on the upstroke. Take him deeper until he hits the back of my throat, and I have to pull back to breathe.
“Jesus Christ,” he mutters.
I watch his face while I work him. The way his brow furrows with concentration, and how his lips part on each exhale. All the control he maintains so carefully is crumbling in my mouth.
This isn’t about submission; this is power. My power over him.
The realization makes me wetter, and my thighs clench together as I imagine him inside me again. Filling me. Stretching me. Making me feel things I’ve never felt.
I moan around his cock, and the vibration makes him curse.
“You’re enjoying this,” he comments. Not a question. An observation.
I am. God help me, I am. The taste of him on my tongue. The weight of him in my mouth. The way his entire body responds to every movement I make.
I increase my pace and take him deeper. Saliva drips down my chin, and I must look wrecked, but I don’t care.
I hold eye contact while I suck him, forcing his breathing to come in harsh pants.
“You’re going to make me come,” he warns.
Good. I want to watch him fall apart. Want to see the moment his famous control shatters.
I double my efforts, sucking harder and stroking faster. My other hand moves to cup his balls, and he nearly comes off the floor.
“Fuck. Mila, I’m—”
His hand tightens in my hair, and his hips start moving in shallow thrusts that match the rhythm of my mouth.
I take him deeper, relax my throat, and let him slide further than I thought possible. Tears leak from the corners of my eyes, but I don’t stop.
“I’m going to come,” he grits out. “Pull back if you don’t want—”
I don’t pull back, I just look up at him and take him even deeper.
He groans, long and low, and then his cock pulses in my mouth as he comes. The taste is bitter and salty, and I swallow without thinking. Once, twice, until he’s finished and starting to soften.
I pull back and wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. My knees ache from the hardwood floor, and my jaw is sore, but the look on his face makes it all worth it.
He stares down at me in awe. “That was—”
“Don’t.” I stand on shaky legs. “Don’t make this into something it’s not.”
“What do you think this is?”
“A transaction. I did what you wanted, now you help my sister.”
“Is that all you think this was?”
“What else would it be?”
He reaches for me, but I step back, putting distance between us before I do something stupid like kiss him or admit that I got off on watching him lose control. That I’m wet and aching and want him inside me again.
“I’ll call Dmitri,” he says after a moment. “Get the resources in place for an extraction operation. But Mila—”
“Just save my sister. That’s all I’m asking.”
He studies my face to try to figure out what I’m thinking. Good luck with that. I’m not even sure.
“You surprised me,” he admits.
“Why? Because I went through with it?”
“Because you enjoyed it.”
Heat floods my cheeks. “I didn’t enjoy it; I did what I had to do.”
“Liar.”
“Think whatever you want, just keep your end of the bargain.”
“I always keep my word.” He tucks himself back into his pants and fixes his zipper. “You could have called my bluff and walked away once I told you I would help her, but you didn’t. You dropped to your knees faster than I expected, and you looked at me like you wanted to swallow every drop.”
“Your ego is showing,” I scoff.
He takes a step closer. “You wanted to see if you could make me lose control, and you did. Congratulations.”
I hate that he’s right. Hate that some sick part of me got off on watching him fall apart in my mouth. On knowing that I could reduce this powerful man to a groaning mess with just my tongue and lips.
“Don’t psychoanalyze me,” I tell him. “I’m not one of your French philosophy books.”
“No. You’re far more interesting than any book I’ve read.”
“Save the pretty words and just focus on getting my sister back alive.”
“Already on it.” He pulls out his phone and starts typing. “I’ll have a team assembled within the hour.”
“That fast?”
“Your father was right about one thing. I have resources he doesn’t.”
“And you’re going to use them to help Irina?”
“I said I would. I keep my promises, Mila. Even the ones I make under duress.”
“This wasn’t duress. This was extortion.”
“Semantics.”
I watch him work his phone with the same focus he brings to everything. Within minutes, he’s coordinated with multiple people. Dmitri. Boris. Men whose names I don’t recognize but who apparently have the skills needed for a rescue operation.
We stare at each other across the office. All the adrenaline from what just happened is fading, replaced by the reality of what comes next. My sister is in danger, Alexei is putting himself at risk to save her, and I just gave him a blowjob in exchange for his help.
What the hell is wrong with me?
He’s still watching me with an unreadable expression. Then, his mouth curves into a cruel grin.
“Guess the rumors about Bratva princesses are true. Put enough pressure on them, and they’ll drop to their knees without a thought.”
I freeze. “What did you just say?”
“Every woman in this world knows how to use what she has to get what she wants. You just proved you’re no different.”
“You demanded I get on my knees.”
“And you didn’t even hesitate, or negotiate, or find another way.” He shrugs like we’re discussing the weather. “I respect the efficiency. No games or pretending it meant something; just straight to business. Even if you tried to pretend like you had no idea what you were doing.”
“You’re a real bastard, you know that?”
“So you keep saying. It doesn’t change the facts.” He starts toward the door. “I’ve got a rescue mission to plan. Try not to fall apart while I’m gone.”
Something inside me snaps. “You want to know why I seemed so inexperienced?”
He pauses mid-step but doesn’t turn around. “Not particularly.”
“Because I am. Because three weeks ago, at that safe house, was the first time I’d ever had sex. With anyone. Ever.”
Now, he turns, his face going blank. “What?”
“You were my first, Alexei. My only. So, forgive me for not having years of experience manipulating men with my body.”
The color drains from his face. “You’re telling me you were a virgin?”
“Yes.”
“That night. You’d never—”
“Not once.” I cross my arms. “So, your theory about me being just like every other Bratva woman? Pretty fucking offensive considering I’d never even tasted a dick before you shoved yours down my throat.”
He runs his hands through his hair and breathes out. “Jesus Christ, Mila. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t think it mattered.”
“Of course it mattered. I would have—” He cuts himself off. “Fuck.”
“What? You would have been gentler? More careful? Please. You got what you wanted. That’s all that matters to men like you.”
“That’s not…” He shakes his head. “I can’t do this right now.”
He walks past me without looking back or apologizing, leaving me standing in his office with the taste of him still on my tongue and the weight of his indifference settling in my chest.
He wasn’t supposed to matter. That was the rule. And somehow, I broke it.