Chapter Vadim
Vadim
She didn’t move. She stood beside the tall windows with the stillness of someone looking for an escape that wasn’t there, or an excuse that hadn’t arrived yet. Both options were equally unavailable.
This was the cost of drawing my attention.
Radovan had leaned in earlier with those few words—she was listening at your office door, Pakhan—and I had filed it for later. Later had arrived. The Chechen situation was almost resolved, the routes were being restructured, and the remaining outstanding item on my list had run out of time.
“Unbraid your hair,” I said. “I’d like something to pull on when I ride you.”
The single sharp intake of breath. The rapid blinking. The specific expression of someone who had prepared themselves for this moment and discovered, now that it was here, that preparation had not been adequate.
It made me want to take my time.
I tugged my shirt from my trousers, shrugged out of it and tossed it onto the jacket.
When I moved to my belt she bolted.
Not for the door—for the bed. She crossed the room and pulled the covers up and burrowed underneath them, and for a moment I watched with something approaching genuine curiosity. Then the movement beneath the duvet clarified itself.
She was undressing under the covers.
I stared at her for a moment.
Twenty-five years old. Had smashed two glasses on a cathedral floor and ground the shards under her heel. Had called my bodyguard a mudak in my own hallway.
And she was hiding under a duvet to take her clothes off.
I took my time removing my trousers, folding them carefully over the chair where the rest of my clothes were piled. There was no rush. There never was when the outcome was already decided.
Most women were apprehensive of me—had been since I was young enough to notice it.
The eldest son of the Pakhan drew quite the crowd, and not always the kind with good intentions.
I had learned that lesson early and expensively.
These days anyone who arrived uninvited at my door without clearance would find themselves answering to Konstantin before they found themselves answering to me, male or female without exception.
I peeled my boxers off and stepped out of them.
The room was quiet except for the faint sound of her moving beneath the covers. Minimum training these past few days and no outlet for it—my body had been running on compressed energy since the wedding and it was past time to do something productive with that.
Her head appeared above the duvet. She had begun unbraiding her hair, fingers working through the plait, strands loosening around her face in the lamplight.
At least she was following instructions.
I gripped the edge of the covers and pulled them back in one motion, exposing her completely. She startled and crossed her arms over her breasts, still holding strands of half-unbraided hair between her fingers, her knees instinctively pressing together. The lamplight fell across her without mercy.
Unblemished flesh from throat to hip.
No nicks, no scars, no bruising.
Yet.
She bent one knee over the other, angling away from my inspection with the instinct of someone who understood, on some level, that being looked at this carefully was its own kind of exposure.
I glanced up at her face, then pulled the covers entirely from the bed and dropped them.
“What did I say your job was?” I asked, and reached down to ease her arms away from her breasts.
The skin was like porcelain—pale and smooth and warm beneath my hands.
Her nipples were the palest pink I had encountered, almost the same shade as the rest of her.
I cupped one breast, testing its weight in my palm.
Supple. The warmth of her radiating upward.
I stroked my thumb across her nipple and watched it peak, her breath catching and then deepening, her chest rising and falling with a rhythm that was no longer entirely steady.
Her body had its own answer, whatever her face intended to show.
“Finish your hair,” I said. My voice had dropped without my deciding to allow it.
I moved my hand from her breast and spread my fingers across her ribs, feeling the cage of them beneath her skin, the slight flinch as I traced downward across her belly.
The small patch of curls at the apex of her thighs was the same luminous blonde as the rest of her hair.
I moved down the bed and hauled her legs apart.
She gasped.
The room smelled of her perfume and warm skin and the charge of a silence that had stopped being neutral. The lamplight caught every detail—the flush beginning at her throat, the tension in her thighs, the way her fingers had stilled in her hair without her seeming to notice.
She didn’t resist.
It wasn’t what she had signed up for. She had signed up for a contract with a payment and the performance of compliance.
I spread her thighs open wide.
And there it was. The pale pink lips laid open beneath me—the pussy contracted to give me my heir.
I traced my fingers down to her opening and pried her gently apart, inspecting what was mine. The pale pink revealed a darker shade on the inside.
“You’ll do nicely,” I murmured before I eased my finger inside her until her legs twitched, but she didn’t try to close them.
I pulled back and lay beside her. Her eyes followed me. I wrapped an arm around her waist and dragged her to me until her back rested against my chest. Her legs sprawled open and I moved my hand between her thighs.
“First, take my fingers,” I whispered in her ear, pushing two fingers inside her.
Heat surrounded my digits. Her head fell back from my chest onto the bed, drawing my attention to her breasts. I gripped her arse with my spare hand and began to ease my fingers in and out. With each movement she began to coat them.
I kept up my pace before I leaned over her and dragged my tongue over her nipple. She moaned and rocked her hips, riding my fingers like a hungry little whore. In the end they were all the same.
I closed my mouth over her nipple and sucked, only to release it and begin all over again. She was leaking over my fingers within a minute. I could feel her tight muscles clinging to me.
“Wet so soon, Iskra? Have you been lying in bed waiting for your husband to come and fuck you?”
Her eyes snapped open.
Mutinous.
I moved to her other nipple, sucking hard enough for her to hiss. My fingers thrust in and out of her tight wet pussy, fast enough that she raised her hips to meet me. I could feel her beginning to drip down my fingers.
“The next time you’re caught listening in on my business, I will tie you to the bed for a week,” I said, releasing her ass to trace my hand up her body and cup her breast. “Tied up and fed come in this pussy, morning, noon and night.”
I squeezed her flesh until she nodded.
After I released her I reached for a pillow, laid it beside her and rolled her onto it. Face down. I wiped my wet fingers over her arse and lower back, then moved behind her to straddle her.
I gathered her hair until it lay spread across her back.
Perfect.
I held my cock and teased her with it, dragging it down the crack of her ass, over her puckered little asshole before reaching her pussy.
“Hold on,” I taunted, smearing the tip of my cock with her arousal.
It wasn’t difficult. Her pussy was soaked.
“Now take my cock,” I said as I eased myself into her.
I placed my hand on her lower back and watched as my cock began to disappear inside her. She was incredibly tight and every so often her muscles would clench around me. I could feel every inch of her velvety insides. I spread her cheeks apart and began to rock my hips.
To watch her coat my cock to the point it glistened when I pulled back was a beautiful sight. The way her lips clung to me as if to hold me inside her made me hiss.
I gathered her hair into a ponytail and wrapped it around my fist. When I pulled, her head flew up and her back arched. I started thrusting deeper. There were still a few inches left before she encased me fully.
Her hands came up and she held onto the pillows.
I chuckled.
It was time to breed my wife.
The harder I pummelled her the more her ass cheeks shook—the perfect cushion when I drove back into her.
“Da, Iskra. Welcome to your new life,” I groaned as I rode her hard.
The wooden bed frame began to creak, but the springs threw her back onto my cock as I moved with vigour. I dropped her hair and leaned over her back, planting my hands on the bed.
“Now to pound that cervix,” I murmured.
The first brutal thrust had her screaming. The second had her lifting her ass to take more. By the third she was clawing at the bedding like an animal.
I could feel her insides begin to pulsate around me, dragging my cock deeper. I held onto the bed as my movements became erratic. Sweat dripped down my spine as my balls tightened.
She began to pant before a strangled cry left her.
Her cunt began to clench around my cock, milking me until I answered the call. With a groan I released deep inside her, our come mingling while I pushed in as deep as I could go. My cock throbbed as more spurted out of me.
I was left panting as I gathered myself.
But one thing I knew for certain—breeding my new wife would not be a hardship.