Chapter 16 - Viktor
They say that men make plans and God laughs. Except Nadya is my God, and it’s the sight of her pain that’s undone everything I’d been so sure of until I wasn’t.
I worship now at the altar of her hips, her arousal anointing my tongue.
As her cries ring out, I think about how I hadn’t even suspected she would actually choose me. I hadn’t realized until the moment she spoke into the phone that I hadn’t expected her to.
Is that why I took her in the first place? Would she have come if I’d simply asked? I’d thought, before, the answer would be a resolute fuck no.
Now, I’m not sure.
Now that it’s fucking too late.
I never gave her a choice. Mine was made the moment I first laid eyes on her. Every moment we’ve shared since has only cemented that initial choice.
I can’t make up for it. Still, my mouth tries.
It loves her until her thighs tremble around my ears, seizing my skull between their clutch, eking the lingering aftershocks rippling through her dripping cunt, and even then, I only down, still lapping at her.
Letting her come down without pulling away from her entirely.
She tastes so fucking good. Like something more divine than absolution.
Nadya’s needy fistfuls in my hair turn to gentle, mindless petting. I’d smile if my chest weren’t still aching where the sounds of her heartbroken sobs tucked themselves into hollows they’ll haunt for much longer.
“Viktor,” Nadya sighs, her hips lifting away slightly.
The satisfied sweetness of her erratic breaths helps.
The sight of her poised above me, her pussy swollen and glistening, her hair all over the place like a moonlit waterfall, her cheeks and neck red, relieves some symptoms, albeit not the disease of this guilt.
I swipe at my mouth with the back of my hand. My tongue sweeps up the remnants. Nothing can slake my thirst for her. “Okay?” I ask, surging upright and catching her with my hands clamped at her ribcage.
“Fuck yes,” she whimpers. “Yeah, Viktor.”
I drag her down my body. My limbs move to her persuasion as I do—my arms lift overhead when she demands, as do my hips.
Our bodies work in tandem, tugging at each other until we’re slotting together to our mutual satisfaction.
When clothes are no longer a barrier, Nadya sits astride my thighs, my erection trapped in the cleft of her pussy, holding her slippery folds open with my girth.
Getting her wetter still with precum leaking from my tip.
I let her use it. I need her to use me, anyway she cares to.
Starting with this, rocking her pelvis and building friction up all over again. Neither of us let it go on for long. Neither of us resists when I lift her with a grip on her hips, and her fist wraps around my achingly stiff cock, until I’m nudging at her entrance.
Nadya leans against my cheek at the blunt pressure. Her thighs split wider on instinct, scrambling to accommodate me inside of her soaked heat. It’s hard to get all the way inside. It was the first time, too. Her cunt clutches my cock so tightly that it impedes my thrusts without any force.
I’m happy to fucking oblige.
“Take it,” I beg her, lowering her a little further and groaning at the way her eyes water over the pressure. I kiss the corner of her parted lips. “Take every fucking inch I owe you, baby.”
“Fuck,” Nadya screams, her hips grinding down, gasping like her lungs have forgotten what air is.
Gravity works against her patience, sinking her hips around me until she’s impaled on my cock, swallowing me to the root. My eyes roll back into my head. I can live with it because hers fluttered shut first.
My breaths come out in uneven pants. I bury them against the flushed throat.
Nadya begins to writhe, and a thumb to her puffy clit is all it takes to make her body pulse anew.
She’s so soaked, it’s fucking killing me.
My mouth cottons just watching where we’re joined, watching her hoist herself up and drop herself down while her cunt drools all over my cock, painting it until it shines with her.
She rides me with a sloppy wetness that cares only for what her body demands, intent on drawing another peak. She deserves it. She deserves to be saturated with nothing but rapture. I let her take it all. It’s hers to take, anything that I have to give. It belongs to her, because she belongs to me.
I fall back onto the mattress, bracing my feet at the foot of the bed to anchor her against my pelvis. I drive up into her without mercy, filling her like she’s made to be filled. My hands smear her sweat, dragging from her narrow hips up her ridged torso, palming at her jiggling tits.
These past few weeks have felt so long. I need this to last so much longer than it will. My hips stutter.
“Nadya.”
She looks down at me, so fucking pink everywhere. It’s distracting. I prop up on my elbows just to lick a stripe up her breast. I bite at her nipple, demanding her attention past the hazy glance she spares me amid her pleasure.
“Tell me we can do it again.”
I don’t know how she’s got it in her to laugh at me, but she manages. No matter what, she always manages. I won’t acknowledge the way the sound of it nearly shoves me off the edge I’m straddling. It’s painfully fucking great.
Fuck.
Just not as great as it is to knock that grin off her face when I get my hands on her ass and start fucking her all over again, bouncing her on my cock just to drag her atop my pelvis every time she lands against it.
Consistency isn’t easy when she squirms like this, but it’s fucking worth it to hold her where I want her and fucking keep her there.
“Yeah,” I rasp savagely. “Fuck. Like that, baby? Take it. Take it.”
My eyes ricochet between her wrecked face and her bouncing tits and the dripping, squelching cunt that grips my cock for dear fucking life.
“Oh, oh, oh,” Nadya chants in a wet litany of sobbing bliss.
She undoes me, splintering my fucking soul.
“Fuck!” I shout, pistoning up into her so hard that my hips leave the bed entirely and pump midair. I blow several weeks’ worth of stored-up cum in wild jets inside her until it’s dripping out.
I scoop it up with my fingers and put it back inside.
***
Afterward, we lie on our sides, technically facing each other except for how her forehead is nestled against my sternum. It effectively—adorably, frustratingly—conceals her face from me.
Her skin is glossed with sweat, and she’s still trembling. She doesn’t stiffen when my fingers drag up and down the notches of her spine.
“Are you okay?”
Nadya shrugs, and it takes me a beat to understand her wiggle against me as that.
“Are you okay?”
She doesn’t answer.
“Baby?”
She looks up at me, her eyes shining but not shuttered.
“Ask me anything,” I entreat, the words exploding from the depths of me. My gut seems to sense it’s what she needs, and every other piece of me craves giving her whatever it takes.
“That’s a big word,” she says.
You have no fucking idea. “And yet…”
She tosses me a taunting eye-roll. But concedes, “Fine. Tell me why you hate my brothers.”
I choke on a bark of laughter. “Jesus. Start off fucking easy, why don’t you?”
Nadya’s smirk is an exquisitely feral thing. “You don’t like me this much because I go easy on you, honey.”
My brows climb my forehead. “I don’t just like you.”
“Stop deflecting,” she admonishes.
The only woman I’ve ever met who’d swat aside an admission of romantic sentiment for the truth. My woman.
“I don’t hate them. Not specifically. It’s what they represent,” I say.
Nadya frowns. “That makes no sense to me.”
“I’m trying.”
She tries to smile, but it comes out wooden and false. “I know. I can see that.”
“The things I’ve done to them. I can explain those. How about that?”
“It’s a pretty long list,” she adds wryly, then squeals with a girlish yelp when I smack her ass for that one.
“We’ve been rival families since the beginning. It’s always going to be a fight over territory, product, and clients.”
Nadya harrumphs. “Coke versus Pepsi, but with guns. Gotcha.”
Sucking in a deep breath, I steady myself. “Look, I need to go farther back for you to understand this. There’s a lot here. I’m going to do my best, but just listen. Can you do that for me?”
“Basically, try to shut the fuck up?”
“Yes, essentially.” It’s a comical struggle for her to keep her lips sealed and not chip in, I can tell.
“Anton and I are only half-brothers. My father, Sergei Zakharov, was always betrothed to a woman called Galina. A political union. He was a dutiful son. He married the person he was supposed to, and she gave him an heir. Unfortunately, four months later, his mistress, a woman called Milena, found out she was pregnant too.”
“Oh, my God. Why didn’t I—?”
“Know that?” I finish for her. “You aren’t meant to. No one is.”
“So, the penthouse?”
“Is paid for by Sergei. Correct.”
Always so clever.
“Man, you’re really never too old to be a fuckboy, huh?” Nadya mimes gagging.
Always a fucking smartass, too.
“Is it wrong that I think it would be better if he were one instead of what he actually is?” I muse aloud.
Nadya cards her fingers through my hair, nails scratching lightly at my scalp. I nuzzle my face into her chest as she prompts, “And what is he? I can’t answer that unless you give me more.”
She doesn’t pretend to coddle me. But she looks at me with a gravely serious expression, all of her focus on me.
A man could get used to this. “A cruel, old-fashioned coward with fucked up priorities. If he were just a whore, that would be easier. Then he’s a man incapable of love.
Then Milena would be a notch on his bedpost, and not the woman he calls his love. ”
Nadya’s eyes always give her heart away. I see that she gets it. “Because he didn’t love her enough to leave Galina and marry her.”
I nod tersely. “Only loved her enough to pretend her bastard was legitimate to the world. Under the condition that I would be raised as Galina’s son and Anton’s little brother.”