3. Valentin
CHAPTER THREE
VALENTIN
Footsteps scuffle nearby, pulling me from sleep. My mind stirs, but my eyelids refuse to lift.
The last thing I recall is a beautiful young woman, then darkness. Did I drink so much last night that I blacked out?
My eyes flicker open and close, catching fleeting glimpses of a dirty cement floor. Gradually, I wake, the darkness pierced by a single flickering bulb that casts a weak yellow glow.
“There you are, handsome.”
I look up at the sound of her voice and see the girl standing there.
Her lips curve into a smile, and her eyes are sharp and bright. She’s leaning against the wall, as if she’s been waiting for me to wake up. She’s cute in her little pink skirt and white shirt, looking as though she could be any of my friends’ daughters in their early twenties.
I try to speak, but my mouth is parched, and a cough escapes me.
She steps closer, snatching a bottle of water from the table.
Tilting my chin upward, she parts my lips with a fingertip, her long nail brushing against my tongue.
The cool bottle meets my lips, and she pours the refreshing water in.
I hesitate, but she is insistent, and the water rushes down my throat.
I sputter, coughing, until my mouth feels alive again and words finally find their way out.
“You’ve got some balls,” I grit out of my teeth.
Who the fuck does she think she is, kidnapping a Brigadier?
“All you have to do, Brigadier, is tell me where Petrov is and I’ll let you go.”
She stays close, her chest almost brushing against me, the edge of her top barely holding back her curves. I imagine her nipples blush with the softest shade of youthful pink.
She catches my gaze, lingering on her chest, and gently lifts my chin with her finger, guiding my eyes to hers.
The look she gives me is not one of fear, but of longing, as if she has already imagined what might happen between us.
She bites her lower lip, and when I glance down, I can’t help noticing her nipples tightening beneath the thin fabric.
I wriggle my hands behind my back, eager to touch her, when the rope shifts. Her slender build and gentle hands could never restrain a Brigadier like me, so I give the rope another pull, and it loosens a bit more. I need a little more time before my hands close in, stealing her final breath.
“When Nikolai finds me, you’re dead,” I warn her. The Bratva’s top enforcer, the Colonel, will indeed torture her and leave her body a mangled mess.
It’s a shame, really, since I was drawn to her in ways I can’t quite explain. Maybe her stillness will haunt my dreams until another captivating soul crosses my path.
On second thought, I think I’ll jerk off imagining all the things I want to do with her and spray my cum all over her dead body.
She bends down, her thighs opening as she sits on my lap, wrapping her arms around my neck, her mouth close to mine. “It’s a risk I’m willing to take.”
“What did Petrov do to you, girl?”
Her gaze turns away, and instead of anger, I notice fear, pain, and a deep sense of disgust.
“Is your desire for revenge so intense that you would risk your life for it?”
“Yes!” she snarls. The air shifts, carrying a tension so palpable my breathing hardens. She shifts her eyes to something behind me and nods.
Suddenly, a hand wraps around my neck, and a body presses against me from behind, pulling my head backward. So caught up with the girl, I didn’t notice anyone else in the room.
A young woman is now standing behind me, around the same age as the girl. She covers my face with a cloth, and my breathing becomes shallow.
She pours water into my mouth, and I instantly gag, feeling as though I’m drowning. When the water finally stops, she releases her grip, and I lean forward, gasping for air.
The girl remains seated on my lap, and I rest my forehead against her chest, trying to catch my breath as I follow the sound of her heartbeat.
She lets out a sharp, mocking laugh as her fingers rake through my hair, her nails digging into my scalp. With a sudden jerk, she yanks my head back, and the torment begins again.
When the water hits me, panic sets in, tightening my chest. When they’re done drowning me, my head falls, chin dropping to my chest. Water pours down the front of my shirt as I fight to catch my breath. “What’s your name?” I manage to mutter as the pain in my chest intensifies.
“Does it matter?” she retorts, shifting her waist and falling back into my lap. The contact sends a thrill through me.
I also feel something else—the edge of my pill bottle pressing against my thigh.
“I just need to know what name to carve on your headstone.”
“Perhaps I’ll be the one burying you,” she scoffs, bringing her lips so close to mine that it looks as if she’s about to kiss me.
I let out a wild, booming laugh, my lips brushing against hers as I lean in closer.
“Even if you succeed, the Coalition will hunt you down and hang you. Everyone you care about will watch you swinging from a streetlight, your skin scorched and unrecognizable. Is that the memory you want to leave with them?”
Her lips find mine, soft and insistent. I yield, opening up to her as her tongue traces a slow, electric path. “If the Colonel finds me.”
She extends her hand, and the other girl hands her a metal rod. Suddenly, she presses it against my chest, and I shriek. The shock courses through my body, and though it lasts only a few seconds, it stretches into an agonizing eternity.
She pauses, holding the stick in front of my face. “Brigadier, all you have to do is tell me where Petrov is, and I’ll drop you off at your loft.”
“You’ll kill me.”
“I don’t kill for fun,” she softly murmurs, her body stiffening, her eyes staring at me, but lost at the same time.
She lingers, expectant for my reply, but I remain silent, my face and shirt soaked, my breath uneven.
“I can keep this up all night long, Brigadier.”
“If you keep grinding against my cock, then I don’t mind, sweetheart.” With a playful smirk, I swallow hard, then flash a confident wink.
With a crazed laugh, she moves the stick across my stomach, this time holding it against my skin longer than before. The tingling sensation crawls beneath my skin, causing my muscles to spasm.
When she touches me for the third time, the shock is unbearable, and the pain in my chest intensifies, pounding relentlessly. “Stop!” I gasp, my heart spiking to the point that a sharp ache radiates across my body.
She tosses the stick onto the ground, a puzzled expression crossing her face as she tilts her head. “Are you okay?”
“I just need a moment to breathe,” I say softly, leaning my forehead against her collarbone. The sweet scent of berries envelops me again as I nuzzle against the strand of hair that’s slipped free.
“Get out!” she commands, glaring at the other woman.
The woman stands her ground. “Lexi.”
Aww, that’s Krasotka’s name—Lexi.
“I said, leave!” Lexi insists, her voice rising. The sound of footsteps drifts away as the door softly closes.
Her eyes narrow with genuine concern, and it’s a moment I can seize. “Tell me, girl, how long have you been following me?”
She tilts my chin up to meet her gaze. “Last week, for your granddaughter’s birthday, you took her to Roses and More and bought her a little pink elephant.”
I flinch at the mention of my granddaughter, biting back the urge to snap at her. “Hmmm, you’ve got me all figured out, haven’t you?”
But something else has happened; the rope has loosened again.
“You spend most nights alone, sitting at your dining table with your dinner untouched as you choose to drink your Scotch instead. When it gets late, you turn off all the lights and retreat to your bedroom by yourself. Even when a girl is with you, you send her home right away, ending the evening the way you began it—alone.”
I can’t argue with her, but none of this has been my choice.
Since my wife passed away a year ago, my nights have become quieter and emptier. Yet, if I’m honest, there’s also been a strange sense of peace in that silence.
Her fingers run through my hair as she tilts back my head, her lips tracing a path along my throat from my chest to my chin before returning to mine.
“I also know you purchased a private island off the coast of South America. Tell me, Brigadier—do you plan to retire? I can’t imagine a man like you trading being a Brigadier for lounging by the pool, sipping Mai Tais all day. ”
I laugh. “I’ve already picked out my Speedos.”
She’s right. I do own a private island, prepared for a retirement that may never come. But in truth, Brigadiers don’t retire. We discuss it, fantasize about it, and even acquire private islands. Yet the reality is, we always die as Bratva men. The Bratva always comes first.
I lean in, biting her lower lip. “Now it’s my turn. I think Petrov did something to you.”
Her eyes flicker over me, not leering, but sharp, as though I’m peeling back the layers to see what she’s hiding. “He hurt my friend.”
I’ve taken lives before for hurting someone I loved, and this feels deeply personal. She is hurting, and I see it, sense it. “Maybe he did, but he hurt you, too.” I press on, wanting her to break. “What did he do to you?”
She’s silent, with tears shimmering in her gaze as she takes a deep breath, struggling to keep them at bay.
He must have hurt her in the most unimaginable way. My thoughts spiral, imagining him above her, his lips on hers, picturing her tears as he inflicts his cruelty upon her.
Has Petrov touched what I crave but haven’t yet tasted?
As the pain clenches around my chest like a vise, my breath begins to shallow, and I struggle to draw in air.
“Valentin,” she yells, her eyes wide with concern as she grabs both sides of my face.
“Pocket,” I manage to say, my voice barely above a whisper.
As her hands hover over me, she seems uncertain, hesitating. “Pocket,” I repeat.
She gently pats my pocket and feels the pill bottle. Taking it out, she uncaps it and grabs a pill from inside. She places it in my mouth, and I swallow it, nodding at the bottle, unable to speak.
She pulls out another pill, placing it in my mouth.
Immediately, I sense them taking effect. All I need to do is focus on my breathing, leaning my head back, inhaling and exhaling, finding rhythm in each breath.
As she rests her head against my chest, kissing my shoulder, her hand sits over my heart, as if she’s offering me the very air from her lungs. “This is why you want to retire.”
“Krasotka, it’ll be a long while before I retire,” I reply.
“What does that mean?” she asks, tilting her head slightly to look up at me.
“What, Krasotka?” I repeat.
“Yeah.”
She resembles a captivating work of art that I collect for fun, effortlessly commanding attention.
Her skin has a subtle glow, and her high cheekbones lend her an air of strength.
Her lips are beautifully plump and pink, while her piercing eyes reveal a depth of passion intertwined with profound pain.
“Gorgeous,” I answer her.
A playful smile dances on her lips, illuminating her face like the sun breaking through the clouds.
And in this moment, I have her.
She opens her mouth, and I capture it in a searing kiss. There’s nothing gentle about it, just straight up possessive. Tasting her. Wanting her. At least until I fuck her.
At this point, my cock has grown so firm that the bulge is on the verge of breaking free.
She looks down to see the swelling in my pants. She pulls back from me, blinking, heat rushing to her face.
“Only for you,” I say as I smirk, my cock standing erect as her thighs tighten around my legs.
Her hips rock forward, my muscular thigh sliding between hers.
My cock pulses with a throbbing hardness. I bend my knees, sitting up straight to grind my groin into her. “I should get kidnapped more often.”
“So, you don’t want me to let you go?” Her lips nuzzle and nibble my ear.
“Oh, sweetheart, untie me, and I’ll have you on your fucking knees with your pretty pink lips wrapped around my cock.”
Her blush deepens, and she rocks her hips back and forth. Through the thin fabric of her panties, I feel the plumpness of her pussy lips as she plunges her hips forcefully toward me and then pulls away. She’s holding onto me, her fingers digging into my shoulders.
I’m thrusting my hips upward, reaching for that sensation of being inside her, feeling her. “Do you want to come?”
“Yes!” she pants and kisses me, suckling on my lower lip.
“That’s not how you answer me,” I growl. My little girl needs to learn some manners, and I can’t wait to teach them to her.
“Again, do you want to come?” I ask her.
“Please,” she purrs, her eyes pleading as she begs me.
I watch in silence, my breath caught. “That’s my good little girl,” I praise her as she shifts back and forth on my lap.
“And you’re my good prisoner,” she breathes, pressing deeper against my thigh. My groan seems to incite her to drive against my thigh hard and fast.
“I can’t wait to fuck you, Krasotka,” I groan in agony, feeling the tension build so strongly that I might explode in just two minutes.
“Daddy!” she squeals, and I press my lips against her cleavage, soaking in every sound of her.
Her sighs quickly turn into moans. She clasps my neck, arching her back and stiffening. With one final move, my naughty girl lets out a somewhat stifled scream of pure pleasure.
She clings to me, and I have no idea how long she’s been sitting on my lap, her breath soft against my throat. Her arms encircle my shoulders, holding me, stealing my breath. Gripping my heart.
This girl is unhinged, and I can’t help but find it appealing. “You’re fucking crazy,” I groan as my still growing bulge strains in my pants.
Suddenly, her expression tightens, showing that she realizes she’s revealed herself to me.
There’s a knock at the door, and the girl strides over, her voice barely a whisper. I seize the opportunity to wiggle my wrists, working to loosen the rope further. Almost there!
She returns, her hands resting on either side of the chair, leaning in so close that I can almost feel her breath. “Sorry, Brigadier, but I have to leave.”
“I thought we were bonding, or was this foreplay? I prefer the latter.”
Her lips twitch, almost amused. “Goodnight, Daddy Brigadier.”
She leaves me alone in the darkened room, clenching my teeth with the strain of my swollen cock. I take a deep breath and make one last determined pull on the rope.
Standing, I find my balance and grab my cock in the moment of freedom.