Chapter 23 #2
My father paced between them like a general in wartime.
“Someone in this city betrayed me,” he said, his voice sharp and cold. “And now I’ve got Moscow breathing down my neck like I’m some two-bit thug.”
No one moved.
He turned on his heel and pointed to one of his top men—Vadym, the quiet one who handled the digging, the covering, the cleaning.
“I want everything from that hotel. From that party. Every guest list, every employee. I want to know who Felix spoke to, what he drank, what he touched. I want prints. I want faces. I want answers.”
Then he began splitting the men into shifts. “Three rotation squads. Armed. One for days, one for nights, one for mid. This house does not go unguarded for a second.”
He pointed to the western wing. “You sleep here now. You shit here. No one leaves unless I say so. Until I find out who did this—this house is on lockdown. I want the weapons stock checked and ready. Cars armored. We don’t get caught sleeping again.”
They all nodded.
“And Maksym,” he added, voice lower now but somehow even more commanding. “You stay. I want you close. You’re my sharpest blade, and I’m going to need you.”
Maksym stepped forward from the back, silent.
My breath caught.
“I want you to pay a visit to Felix’s friends from Moscow,” my father said. “The ones still sniffing around my city. Remind them where they are. Remind them whose city this is.”
Maksym gave a single nod. Nothing more. Like it was just another task. Another hunt.
And then—my father demanded loyalty.
“Swear it,” he said, his voice rising like thunder. “All of you. Right now. You’re either with me or against me.”
One by one, they pledged it. Fists to hearts. Words like knives in the quiet.
And I watched him as he stood tall and still amid the chaos he had caused.
Maksym didn’t move. He didn’t blink. He stared up at me through the railing, eyes locked on mine, a slow smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
It sent a dangerous spark of heat between my legs.
As the crowd dispersed—soldiers scattering to follow orders, lieutenants heading off to make calls and load guns—I moved slowly down the stairs. My eyes locked with his for just a second. That was all it took.
He followed.
I slipped into the marble bathroom off the main hall, not far from my father’s study. The door had barely closed before I heard it open again and the click of the lock turning behind him.
I turned to face him. My breath uneven. My pulse thrumming.
He looked at me, expression unreadable. “Say something.”
I meant to speak, truly, but his presence gripped me—so lethal, so mesmerizing—I could only swallow and stay silent.
He stepped closer. “Are you afraid of me?”
I shook my head, whispering, “No.”
“You know what I did to him.”
“Yes.”
A pause.
“Do you regret it?” I asked.
His jaw tightened. “Not in this lifetime.”
He took another step. “Do you think it was too much?”
I stood still, barely breathing.
My lips parted, eyes locked on his. “Too much is exactly what I want.”
That was it. The last thread of restraint snapped.
He surged forward, capturing my mouth with his, kissing me like he wanted to consume me. It was all teeth and heat and tongue, his hands gripping my face, his body pressing me back until I hit the sink.
He lifted me without effort, setting me on the cool marble. His mouth never left mine. The kiss deepened—hot, desperate, filthy. I kissed him back with the same feral hunger.
His hands slid over my body, rough palms gliding over my breasts through the soft fabric of my loungewear. I arched into him, gasping against his mouth. My fingers slipped beneath his shirt, tracing the lines of his muscles, the ridges of his ribs, the heat of his skin.
I started grinding against him, the ache between my thighs turning into a pulse, demanding more. He groaned low in his throat, pulling back just enough to press his forehead to mine.
“Fuck, Kira,” he rasped, his breath ragged. “You’re messing with my head.”
I didn’t stop moving. Didn’t stop touching. Because I wanted him just as unhinged as I felt.
“Let me worship the monster you are,” I whispered. “Put that cock inside me and don’t stop until my brain switches off.”
His eyes darkened, breath catching.
“Fuck me,” I whispered, sliding the jacket off his shoulders and letting it drop. “Here. Please.”
He growled into my mouth, deep and primal, then yanked me off the sink with brutal urgency. He spun me around like a doll, bent me over the marble, and with one savage tug, he ripped my pants and underwear down, baring me completely.
“I love it when you beg—it’s my favorite sound,” he murmured into my ear, fingers closing around my throat as he pinned me from behind.
His erection was straining right against my bare ass.
“You’re gonna stay dead quiet, though—or I’ll shut you up.
Think you can be my good girl? Let me fuck you hard without a single noise? ”
Our eyes locked in the mirror and I gave him a tiny nod. I’d bite my lip, hold my breath, do whatever to stay quiet—just so he’d fuck me right here, right this instant. And if he had to shut me up with his hand or his cock or whatever… I’d accept it. Gladly.
“Spread your legs,” he ordered, voice ragged.
I did—wider, until my thighs trembled. He shoved his knee between them to hold me there, exposed and dripping.
He dragged his fingers through my pussy, slow and deliberate. “Soaked,” he muttered. “You really are my little cock-hungry slut, aren’t you?”
I whimpered, clenching around nothing.
Behind me, I heard the clink of his belt, the harsh rustle of his zipper. He spat into his palm and stroked his cock slowly, the sound obscene in the silence.
Then he lined himself up—and slammed into me.
I cried out, barely catching it before it tore through the room. He was huge, stretching me wide, splitting me open with one unrelenting thrust.
“Look at this greedy pussy,” he whispered, kissing my neck.
He set a brutal rhythm, pounding into me with no mercy. I gripped the edge of the sink, forehead pressed to the mirror, breath fogging the glass.
“Quiet,” he muttered, then reached around and shoved two fingers into my mouth. “Suck. Keep that filthy mouth full.”
I sucked hard, eyes rolling back. My moans came thick and muffled, drool sliding down my chin as he fucked me deeper. His other hand gripped my hip like a vice, dragging me into every punishing stroke.
My thighs shook. My nipples rubbed raw through the fabric. My entire body was on fire.
Just outside, voices murmured—my father’s men, the ones he trusted most. And I was here, being wrecked by the man who murdered my fiancé.
And I wanted more.
He pulled out to turn me—spinning me to face him—then lifted me clean off the floor. I gasped as my legs wrapped around his waist on instinct, his hands sliding under my ass to hold me there, all my weight on him.
He surged back inside me while I was suspended in his arms, driving up into me so deep it stole the air from my lungs.
Our eyes locked—wild and burning—foreheads pressed together, breath mingling.
I clutched his shoulders, teeth sinking into my lower lip to keep quiet, my body tightening around him with every thrust.
His hands kneaded my ass, spreading me open, forcing me down onto him again and again while he fucked me standing—hard and brutal. He kissed me like he was trying to devour me, tongue invading my mouth, swallowing every broken sound before it could escape.
We weren’t alone. We could be heard. But that only made him wilder—he moved with a hunger that bordered on hatred, and I couldn’t get enough.
“Quiet,” he breathed against my mouth—and slammed up into me again.
My body trembled uncontrollably, every nerve set ablaze, my breath catching somewhere between a gasp and a sob.
I couldn’t hold back anymore. The orgasm crashed into me, hard and consuming, my muscles locking around him, my nails digging into his shoulders as I moaned into his mouth, teeth catching his lip.
He let out a sharp breath, almost a growl, every muscle in him coiled tight. He was close.
He pulled out abruptly and set me down. My knees nearly buckled.
“Down,” he said.
I dropped to my knees and took him in my mouth, hands gripping his thighs as he finished for me. I swallowed every drop, filthy and obedient, licking him clean while my eyes stayed locked on his. His breath finally broke, rough and guttural, like I’d dragged it from his soul.
I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand as I slowly stood, still dazed, every nerve ending buzzing from what we’d just done.
My thighs were shaking, my pulse wild. I still tasted him when I looked up—and I wasn’t sure if he’d kiss me or if that would be too much.
But he didn’t hesitate. He grabbed me by the waist and pinned me to the wall, kissing me like it was the only thing that could keep him sane.
My head spun.
God, I love this man.
Obsession wasn’t a strong enough word. It was more than that. Something deeper. Uglier. Beautiful. Love, in its dirtiest form. I hadn’t known Maksym long. But I already belonged to him in a way no time limit could define.
I didn’t just love him despite his darkness—I loved him for it.
When the kiss broke, he pulled up his pants and zipped them slowly, his gaze never leaving mine.
Then he reached down, scooping up my underwear and pants.
He crouched to help me step into them, his touch gentle despite the brutal way he’d just used my body.
After everything, he still handled me like I was breakable.
That same smug, satisfied smirk curled on his lips as he stood, trailing his knuckles along my jaw. “Get some rest, Malaya,” he murmured. “I’ll be back tonight. And I’m not done with you.” Then he leaned in and gave me one last kiss—slow, dark, and possessive—like a promise burned into my skin.
He turned to leave, grabbing his jacket from the floor—but stopped at the door, hand resting on the knob. “Too many men in this house. Lock the door.”
Then he was gone, off to do whatever bloody work my father asked of him.
And I stood there, heart racing, lips swollen, already aching to see him again.
Tonight couldn’t come fast enough.