Chapter 15
Kelly
My hands shake while I go through the stack of fines. They actually filed a ticket for biking without a light even though I did have one. It broke when he slammed his squad car into my bike. I’m drowning in debt now because of him and his partner.
Now David’s contacted some judge about all the parking tickets he used to keep sticking on my car. Got so bad I sold the car just to make it stop. That was four months ago, and now he wants a judge to come after me for the unpaid dues? I’m not giving him that satisfaction.
I let out a deep sigh and rest my face in my hand. I don’t even know what to do at this point. I don’t think he’ll stop until I’m completely destroyed or dead.
There’s no way I’m taking this to Alexei. He could help somehow, but I’m too ashamed to explain what really happened. How I was stupid enough to let David treat me like that for so long. How I kept making excuses for him.
Maybe I deserved some of it. I should have left the first time he hit me instead of believing him when he cried and promised it would never happen again.
He started off so sweet, so charming. Everyone loved him. Only my mom didn’t buy his act. I wish I’d listened to her. That’s what made it so confusing when he started changing the rules. When loving him meant walking on eggshells and apologizing for things I didn’t even understand I’d done wrong.
First it was just wanting to know where I was all the time. Then controlling who I could see. Next, the yelling started. Then he threw the bottle, and I told myself it was just one time, that he was stressed about work.
But it kept getting worse. And I kept staying. Kept believing him when he said he was sorry, that he loved me, that I was the only good thing in his life.
Even when sorry stopped meaning anything. Even when love started feeling like fear.
I finally left after he broke my arm, but only because the look in his eyes afterward scared me more than staying ever had. I knew if I didn’t run then, he was going to kill me eventually.
And now he’s making sure I pay for leaving. Making sure I know that even broken, even gone, I’m still his to destroy whenever he wants.
A knock at my door drags me out of my spiral. I toss the papers onto my desk.
I peek through the peephole. A delivery guy? Probably got the wrong address, because I didn’t order anything.
I open the door. “I think you’ve got the wrong apartment. I didn’t order anything.”
The guy pulls out a paper from his pocket and squints. “Nope. Says Kelly Francis Mackey, apartment 6A.”
“Maybe it’s a mistake?”
He sighs. “No mistake. Just sign the paper, buddy. I need to go back to the truck and get the bike too.”
Bike?
“What bike?”
He basically throws the clipboard and pen at me, then jogs down. I stare at five different grocery bags, all filled to the top with actual food.
The man, in his forties maybe, returns with a sleek black bike that looks more expensive than three months of my rent.
My eyes go wide because yeah, I’ve been a little out of it since I got hurt. But there’s no way I accidentally ordered a week’s worth of groceries and a damn bike when I’m broke as hell and can’t afford any of this.
He drops it right in front of my door. Yanks the clipboard from me which I haven’t even signed and mutters something. Then walks off.
I scratch my head and stare down at everything scattered around my doorway.
Did Alexei do this? But why would he buy me groceries and a new bike when I didn’t even tell him I left my mangled one somewhere on the street after David and Mendez destroyed it.
I wipe my hands over my face and let out a frustrated sigh, then start dragging everything inside. I unpack all the food and shove it into my fridge, my hands shaking slightly.
What does he want from me? People don’t just buy expensive things for nothing. There’s always a price. There’s always something they expect in return.
Is this how it starts?
Nice gestures that make me feel grateful, make me feel like I owe him something? David used to bring me flowers after he hurt me. Said it proved he loved me.
I don’t need Alexei buying me things like I’m some charity case. I can take care of myself. But what if saying no makes him angry? What if he’s keeping track of everything he’s spent and expects payback later?
I’m so anxious about the whole situation, so afraid of what this means, that when I’m done putting all the groceries away, I walk to the bathroom and turn the shower to cold, rip off my clothes, and step under the freezing spray to shock myself out of this spiral.
The water hits my bruised skin. I hiss, but I don’t adjust the temperature. I need to feel something other than this paranoia that people only help when they want something back.
I step out of the shower and grab my towel to dry off.
The cold water did absolutely nothing to help me process this insane Russian who entered my life and flipped it completely upside down.
He constantly violates my privacy and made a spare key behind my back, which I chose to just ignore like a complete idiot.
I groan at being unable to find my hairbrush. Seriously? I swear all my things have been disappearing lately. Maybe I’m finally losing it.
I step out of the bathroom, and the insane Russian in question is standing in my kitchen holding Clover and eating something from my fridge.
I stare at his bare feet and gray jeans from behind, then up to a black T-shirt with the sleeves cut off. No, don’t get distracted by his looks.
“Did you order groceries? And a bike?”
He turns around and keeps petting Clover while chewing something. There’s a gash on his left arm that definitely needs stitches. I have to fight the urge to patch him up again.
“Why would you do that?”
“You are angry.”
“Yes, I’m angry. I can afford my own things, you know.”
“You can’t survive on grapes and almond milk.”
“What?”
He stares at me. Flat. Unimpressed. He is looking at me as if I’m the unreasonable one when he’s the one breaking into my apartment and making decisions about my life without asking.
“You need food. Real food, not grapes and cheap sandwiches. Your bike’s been missing since that woman cut you off and you crashed. I noticed.”
“Why would you do this? I didn’t ask you to.”
He puts Clover down gently and walks toward me.
I automatically take a step back before I can stop myself.
Something flickers across his face when he notices, but he doesn’t comment on it.
He keeps moving until he’s close enough to place his hand under my chin and lift it until I’m forced to look into those dark eyes.
My heart hammers against my ribs, but I don’t pull away.
“Zaychik.” His thumb brushes my jaw. “This isn’t up for debate. I want to take care of you. I’ve never begged for a single thing in my entire life, but I will beg you for this. Please. Just let me do this for you.”
My breath catches as his hand cups my balls through the towel. Before I can say anything, he crashes his mouth onto mine. His other hand grips the back of my head, pulling me harder into him. My mouth parts on instinct, and he uses it to push his tongue inside.
My cock swells so fast it presses against the towel. He grabs my thighs and lifts me up. My legs lock around his waist, my arms around his neck. He doesn’t break the kiss as he carries us to my bedroom and lays me down carefully on the mattress.
His hands go straight to his belt. He unbuckles it, drags his pants and boxers down just far enough to free his hard cock, leaving the rest hanging loose.
He pulls his T-shirt off, and my mouth waters at the sight of his six-pack on full display.
Whatever I was mad about disappears when he looks at me like he plans to devour me.
He drops to his knees and grabs my hips, pulling me closer, lifting my thighs until my ass is fully exposed.
He licks his lips and starts kissing around my balls. Heat spreads as his tongue drags over my skin before he sucks one slowly. I reach down to stroke myself, desperate for something. His head snaps up, and he swats my hand away.
“Not yet.”
I actually want to whine. I’m so desperate to touch myself.
He goes directly back to licking my balls, then further down.
“That’s so good … please don’t stop,” I whimper.
His hands slide under my ass, then up around my hips. He pulls me harder into him and buries his face between my cheeks. His tongue works me open, swirling and pushing inside of me. His stubble scratches against skin with every movement.
I’ve never had anyone do this to me before. It’s overwhelming—every nerve ending on fire. Pleasure I didn’t know existed.
I try to contain the moan, but I can’t. Not when I feel one of his fingers press against the tight ring of muscle and slowly push inside. I gasp from the pleasure.
His tongue keeps swirling around my hole while he works his finger in and out.
When it hits against my prostate, I gasp again.
Pre-cum leaks out of me, dripping onto my stomach.
My hands go to my cock again. I glance down at him, searching for permission.
His deep brown eyes stare back at me while he thrusts his tongue in and out of my hole. He nods.
I spit in my hand and grab myself, stroking in time with his movements. Each tug makes me feel like I’m about to erupt. He pushes against my prostate again, tongue and finger working together, stretching me open.
The pressure builds, coiling tighter and tighter. My cock stiffens. I gasp his name as warm cum shoots across my chest. I collapse back, trying to catch my breath, my vision blurring from the intensity. His tongue drags up my stomach, licking up the mess I made.
The sensation makes me chuckle breathlessly. He works his way higher—across my chest to my nipple. Bites it gently and then moves over and bites my other one gently. Then he’s on me, mouth crashing into mine, making me taste myself on his tongue.