Chapter 10Vasily
Vasily
When the doctor who saw Ana at Consummate reviewed her medical file with me— her presumed husband and as close as they could get to HIPAA-authorized guardian in the absence of any legal paperwork— he mentioned that although the rape kit had come back negative, they’d done a full STD panel on her.
This had also come back negative on all accounts.
The one oddity was the way he said, “Obviously, we didn’t do a pregnancy test.”
I didn’t think too much on it in the moment. There’s a laundry list of reasons why one wouldn’t have been done. She was clearly not pregnant but of child-bearing age, so I just assumed there was some indication of birth control, something more visibly obvious than pills .
When I come inside her so hard I swear I’m walking as bowlegged as she is to the elevator, my balls screaming for a nap and an ice pack, I tell myself I was playing when I said I was going to get her pregnant.
Fuck, I was fully expecting her to beg me to stop, but she really is as desperate for me to unload inside her every time as she was the first time we went through this.
I do my best to remain aloof with her when we get back to the apartment, but my body’s all loosey-goosey and refuses to listen to my brain when she follows me into the shower, scrubs me down, and then curls up half on top of me when I slump down on the giant sectional that replaced my sleek loveseat.
It’s a nice sofa. I don’t know who picked it out, but I’ll have to make sure they get a bonus. It’s a good height for me, not too low like a lot of them are. And it reclines at a nice angle, clearly meant for loafing as opposed to socializing. Really plush cushions that are great for sinking into.
These are not normal thoughts. I definitely came too hard.
I should be relieved that the doctor essentially told me she’s on some sort of birth control, but I find myself hunting for evidence of it. She’s in just my hoodie and her panties, and I sneak my hand up the back of the hoodie as she dozes next to me.
Up to her shoulder.
Down into her sleeve.
Brushing up and down her bicep. Up and down. Up and down.
She makes a happy sound and reaches up to trace my jaw with her fingers and my neck with her lips.
That arm is perfectly smooth.
I give myself a silent countdown, ticking down three minutes, feeling like that’s enough time before I free my hand to tip her head up and kiss her lips, probing her mouth with my tongue to get just a taste of her.
Nice, but I remember how she tasted after sucking her juice off my cock and then swallowing a load of my cum, when I spit in her mouth for good measure, and the way our tastes mingled together was even better.
I whisper, “Are you thirsty? Your show must have been quite the workout.”
Her make-up has thinned out some, much of it having been smeared on my office window, so I can see how much she pinks up at the reminder of what she did in my office for all the world to see. She nods shyly and sits patiently as I grab us both a bottle of water.
She gives me an inquisitive look when I sit on the opposite side of the sofa this time. Slightly put out, even. Sitting here puts a much bigger space between us.
I drag her back to my side and feel a thrill deep in my gut. It does feel good to hold Ana.
Maybe my big fuck you to Tony, the never-ending thorn in my side, will be to keep her even after she gets her memory back, whether she wants to be kept or not.
As she drinks her water, I again slide my hand up her hoodie— my hoodie, but I’m already guessing that if I do keep her, the old thing will end up in her drawers— and around to her arm. Again, her arm is smooth. I don’t think she has an implant.
My heart dances in my chest. I should want her to be on birth control.
Avoiding relationships in the last decade hasn’t just been about keeping women out of my family’s curse.
It’s also been preventing an heir to my cursed throne.
If I die, the only one left to take my spot is Kostya, who doesn’t have any kids either.
Since I’ve ascended to pakhan, it’s a trickier spot to hold, even if it wouldn’t be pakhan but simply avtoritet of Flagstaff.
It will be an elevated, desirable spot now.
To hold it, he’d have to enter with a massive display of power and brutality, a clear intention of also taking over my role as pakhan, or else he’ll be forever threatened by those who think avtoritet of Flagstaff is a fast track to pakhan .
Kostya probably wouldn’t want it. He’s always stuck to the shadows, and there are plenty of brigadiers and other avtoritets who will happily take the responsibility off his hands. He’ll be safer for it, too.
If I have an heir and I survive the curse long enough, he’ll follow me to this cursed throne. I don’t want that.
But damn if the idea of breeding Ana doesn’t feel like it would be just as hot in reality as it was in fantasy. She was literally begging for it, and she did think it was a real concern.
She wants to have my child.
Now she wants to have my child. She’ll change her mind after she gets her memory back, but if it’s too late then...
The moment she finishes her bottle of water, I grab her by the legs and straighten her out on the sofa.
“Vasily!” she squeals, and fuck if that’s not the prettiest sound. This is so much easier than the first time she was in my captivity, when she thought we had to be enemies for way too long.
I shimmy her out of her panties and part her legs, kissing my way back up them, pushing the hoodie up over her tits for good measure.
In the past, she had nothing to speak of.
They were our little secret. I’m intrigued by what she has now, curious about what’s transpired in the last few years, guessing that something caused her to yo-yo with her weight.
Me, probably. I’m not one to take credit where it’s not due, but I’m not going to pretend like telling her we were going to run off together to some happy secret life in the mountains, only to return her to her brother instead, wouldn’t have fucked her up some.
Obviously she got over it, since she lost the weight even if it added some flesh.
I like it. I like that she’s soft now. I like that I can dig my fingers in and there’s something to hold. I like that there’s weight in my hand when I grab her tits. Her ass is a bit bigger, her hips broader, no longer a rail, and yeah, I fucking dig that.
Her musk is heavy where I kiss her mound, both our juices lingering there.
Everything’s fucked up. I’m probably going to be murdered by her brother and it won’t even have anything to do with this; those sands of time are just running way fucking out and I seem to be the only one who’s done that math.
But this right here, this was supposed to be my salvation, and whatever’s happened since it fell apart, nothing of our mingled essences have changed.
I hum as I lick and then suck, driving her wild with my mouth.
I keep her on edge, making her shake and thrash before easing back until she’s begging and cursing my name, only to work her back up again.
I love this enough that I’m actually bothered by the fact that it’s all calculated and when I dip my fingers into her cunt and push them deep, swiping along the walls and stretching back as far as I can, it’s not simply to make her wail and tug at my hair.
I feel nothing.
Benedetti has the birth control ring. Never would have known without a minor mishap between the capture ball of my piercing and a misplaced ring— just another reason I’d never fuck her without a condom.
There’s the IUD, too. I know that’s a string; found that out from one of the books Ana dropped on my e-reader.
Since the authors of all those books were women, I’m assuming that particular author knew what she was talking about when she described the hockey bro pulling the IUD by the string out of his lady, the homeless co-ed who just happened to be his teammate’s step-sister.
I don’t feel any strings inside Ana. Granted, I mostly just feel the squeezy, fleshy walls I’d prefer to be filled with my cock, but I don’t feel anything other than Ana.
Unless I’m not familiar with the whole list of long-term contraceptives, I don’t think Ana has anything.
Maybe I misunderstood the doctor, like obviously she’s not pregnant because nothing came up with either the rape kit or the STD test?
Or, hell, we were in Florida. Probably abortion’s illegal there, so it’s better not to test in case she is pregnant, so we can lie to ourselves that any babies that pop out in nine months are mine?
Any babies that pop out in nine months will be mine, so I blow off the rest of my inspection and any other concerns I might have about my very likely impending doom as I take hold of the arm rest above Ana’s head and surge over her.
Her eyes light up, her jaw drops for her to pant erratically, and I don’t even need to say what I plan to do; she stuffs a hand right into my boxer briefs, gripping me by the shaft to pull my cock out, giving me a few tugs for good measure.
“God, this thing is amazing,” she groans as she rolls her fingers over my piercing. “Have I told you that before?”
I chuckle and lean down to nip at her earlobe. “I taught you how to count in Russian with it.”
I’m expecting some sort of hot reaction. She should at least be guiding me into her. Instead, she snorts. “I can only count to one in Russian?”
Shit. Right. That’s not something I want to explain to her.
It’s weird even without dodging the fact that I’ve been single for the last six years.
So I wrap my hand over hers to feed my cock into her pussy, saying, “Odin,” as I push in, “Dva,” when I pull out so far that I have to keep my hand on my shaft to stay aligned, “Tri,” when I push back into her.