Iskra
When Runa began to fuss, I checked the time before unstrapping her from her walker. Once I lifted her and held her close, she leaned into me.
“My tired baby,” I murmured to her.
“You know there is talk amongst the men that you’re going to poison Bogdan,” Olya said as I turned to leave.
Bogdan hadn’t drunk or eaten anything from the house in days.
“Put him out of his misery. I miss feeding the big oaf,” she grumbled.
I didn’t tell her that I had started the rumour.
“What can I do? He is a grown man. He shouldn’t listen to gossip,” I shrugged, but as I walked away I couldn’t hide my grin.
I was making my way to the staircase when I heard Vadim and his men arrive. Runa became alert at the new voices and turned to look.
Konstantin reached her first, scooping her from my arms before Vadim took over. Both of them fawning over Runa was a common occurrence. Almost a competitive sport between the brothers. I left them to it and took the first step.
Runa would let them know once she’d had enough.
Fingers gripped my wrist, stopping me from leaving.
“I’ll bring her up shortly. Be ready,” Vadim said.
I didn’t need to look at him to know what that meant. He had left early this morning and timed his arrival just before Runa’s feed and nap.
We had proof of pregnancy, but his appetite never dampened.
“Of course,” I said, waiting for him to release my wrist.
There was an unspoken truce between us. No war, yet we couldn’t fully let our guards down enough to enjoy the peace.
His fingers brushed down my palm and fingers.
The days he didn’t leave any underwear out for me spoke volumes about his intentions. It wasn’t always sex—sometimes it was just to tease me beneath my skirt or dress. Sometimes it was just the games he loved to play.
I reached the top of the stairs and turned east to his room—our room. I paused to watch them from the balcony. The house guards, brothers, and even his byki were all invested in Runa, and she loved the attention.
She would soon remember her hunger, or her father would extract her from her over-exuberant uncle.
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I lay in bed messaging my brother while I waited for them. It wouldn’t be long—Vadim knew Runa would suffer at night if she didn’t have her afternoon nap. I’d drawn the curtains to darken the room.
Ruslan kept me informed with what he knew on the ground. A few other shestyorka had been questioned, but not Ruslan. I sighed and placed my phone beneath my pillow. He was moving up to become a soldier soon. There had been no special treatment for him.
The door opened and closed with a soft click.
“I changed her downstairs,” he said, giving Runa a kiss before passing her over to me.
“You need to leave me better breast access in clothing,” I said, taking her from him.
He stared at me, but I ignored him and pulled Runa beneath the covers where she latched on easily. Once she was settled, I glanced at him—he was still standing beside me.
In his hand he held a familiar black card.
“For maternity clothes only, or baby items. No chemicals or herbs,” he said sternly.
“As long as no one upsets me while I am pregnant, they are safe,” I said, taking his card. “But hormones could make me volatile.”
He grunted as he shrugged out of his jacket. That’s when I saw the leather holster for his gun. This was new.
I’d never been turned on by firearms before, but he armed himself to protect us—our babies. The latest one nestled in my belly. He joined us on the bed and Runa raised her hand for him.
“We’ll have two cots in here soon,” I whispered.
“The room was extended. Two is a good start,” he said, kissing Runa’s hand before placing it on his cheek as he snuggled closer.
He could say whatever he wanted, but he would soon learn that juggling two babies wasn’t easy. Apparently, a baker had told him otherwise. I didn’t even question the bizarre statement.
“Once she is asleep, I want you in the basement,” he said. “I’d like to test those hormones out.”
And just like that the relaxed silence turned to anticipation. It was scandalous—it was only the afternoon—but he wanted to make up for leaving early this morning.
“It’s your house on the line,” I murmured.
“You’d be placed in the basement on a permanent basis.”
He was saying that like it was a punishment.
“Under lock and key,” he whispered, kissing the soft hair on Runa’s head. “I’d visit often.”
I smiled as I watched Runa’s eyes droop.
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They all knew where he was taking me and why. My cheeks were red hot by the time I reached the bottom of the basement steps. Olya had been charged with monitoring Runa in case we were still down there when she woke up.
“Does anyone know about the room down here?” I asked.
“They probably do—some of them saw the furniture deliveries,” he replied as he reached the bottom of the stairs.
He was completely unbothered, but he had always been shameless about his exploits.
“You’re not embarrassed, are you?” he asked with a smirk.
“No,” I said immediately and walked past him.
“Eager to have that ass whipped,” he said, chuckling behind me.
I said nothing. Denial was pointless and any reaction would only make him worse.
He reached out and opened the door. I stepped inside and the metal door slammed shut. The lock engaged.
“Strip.”
A single word that raised goosebumps on my arms and dried my mouth.
I reached for the side zip on the emerald dress he’d picked out this morning.
“Slowly,” he said, moving behind me.
While I tugged on the zipper, his hands moved to cup my breasts.
“So beautiful,” he whispered, curling his fingers around me.
I cleared my throat and tried to focus on removing my dress. He took over, pulling the zip down in a single motion before he dragged my hair away from my neck to unbutton the dress. He knew I wasn’t wearing anything underneath.
“I missed pounding your little ass into the mattress this morning,” he said, prying my dress open before dragging it down my shoulders. “I went into the office thinking of when I could leave to correct the issue.”
It had been a little disappointing to wake up alone. The tragic part was that I’d been happy to see he’d taken the time to lay out my clothes, as he had been doing ever since I came back.
The dress slipped to my waist and he chased the material to work it past my hips. I needed new clothes.
His lips brushed my shoulder. Then again. And again.
Hot breath wafted against my neck before he worked his way upward. His fingers curled around my throat, anchoring me to him.
“Moya ozornitsa,” he whispered. “I could bet my empire that your cunt is wet for your husband. No?”
“If you know, why ask?” I said, rubbing myself against the front of his trousers to feel that he was hardly unaffected himself.
“So mischievous,” he said, turning me around.
One hand fisted my hair as he yanked my head back and the other rested on my spine. His lips closed over mine. There was no soft embrace—only the pain of his grip in my hair and his hand pressed into my back holding me flush against him.
He didn’t wait for me to open. He forced his tongue into my mouth with a heavy breath. I gripped the lapels of his jacket and thrust my tongue against his. The kiss became a battle.
Hot. Wet. Messy.
I leaned into him, rubbing my bare breasts against him, slipping my hand down to trace the length of his erection. So long and hard—I worked my hand up and down to feel every curve beneath the expensive material of his suit.
His hand moved lower until he held a handful of my ass, thrusting his hips to the rhythm of my hand.
His movements became erratic and he gripped my neck before he paused between kisses. Licking my lips before kissing again only to stop and push his tongue back in. Slow then fast.
The taste of smoke and vodka filled my mouth—warm, sharp, entirely him.
His stubble began to drag against my skin and I felt the burn of it spreading from my lips to my jaw.
The scent of him was cologne and something darker underneath—cigarettes and cold air.
I felt it in the way his grip tightened.
In the way his mouth refused to be gentle even when it slowed.
I held myself open for him.
As always taking what he gave me.
And loving every second of it.