Chapter 6 The Fugitive #2
He releases me briefly, but only to drag me onto his lap.
“Second in Command.”
I nod in acknowledgment.
“Do you have your own protection? Like a team or something?”
“I do. But the protection has less to do with me and more with the Pakhan’s money. He also wants to keep an eye on me and uses his guards to do so.”
“So, the men who guard you are not loyal to you?”
“I have my own team of men for protection. The team is led by my younger brother, Sasha. I trust him with my life. I trust him with our lives.”
I raise a brow skeptically. “You trust the man who shot me multiple times?”
“You were wearing a vest,” he responds, trying to lessen his brother’s transgression.
“Vest or not, that bastard shot me, and it will be a cold day in Hell before I trust that man,” I protest.
“Sasha doesn’t hurt women or children. He was aware you had a vest on and only shot you in self-defense. He could’ve shot you between the eyes. You should be grateful.”
I snort.
“I should be grateful,” I drawl.
“You seem to understand. Let it go, Mira. Do you have more questions?”
“It’s clear that I’m never returning home. Will I have to change my identity?”
“Yes.”
“What am I to do in Russia? Do I have to get a job or something?”
“You will manage my compound and see to the day-to-day operations of the estate.”
I want to ask what that entails, but I have a more pressing question.
“Will I be able to contact or visit my family?” I ask, thinking about my siblings I grew up with in foster care.
“You may contact them, but only from a secure line. You may not leave Russia—visits are off the table.”
“What are your intentions toward me?”
“I already told you…to make you mine,” he says, planting a kiss on my cheek.
“What happens if whatever this is fizzles out? Where does that leave me? Alone in Russia to fend for myself?”
“My marks represent my loyalty to you from now and forever.”
“How can I trust that?” I ask skeptically.
“We will be getting married once the jet lands.”
Married?
“I can’t marry you,” I protest gently.
“You can, and you will.”
I plan on arguing, but all fight leaves me when he grasps the back of my neck and pulls me into him. I’m amazed at his gentleness and how my body effortlessly molds into his. I’m comforted by his warmth and reassured by his strength.
“This is unexpected,” he rumbles from above me, digging his fingers into my hips.
He forces me to feel him through his slacks, and that unmistakable urge I have for him rolls in like a slow tide, washing over the serious shit I should be focused on.
Suddenly, being a fugitive with Nikolai doesn’t sound too fucking bad.
“What is unexpected?” I ask, mumbling into his chest, that’s a canvas of indecipherable tattoos, some older and some that appear more recent.
“I was expecting screaming and attempts to claw my eyes out,” he answers, bringing my wrist up to his nose. He sharply inhales the remnants of my perfume as if he’s a bloodhound, committing my scent to memory.
“The night is still young,” I answer, words coming out in a purr because instead of clawing Nikolai’s eyes out, I’d rather leave claw marks down his back.
I squirm in his lap a little and ignore the pulsating pleasure that shoots through me when my clit bumps against the bulge in his pants. His dick feels like a delicious steel pipe through the fabric, and I need him inside me expeditiously. Nikolai kisses my neck, and I turn into putty in his hands.
“You need to relax, my sweet Mira. You’ve been through it, no?”
I nod my head, completely dazed by lust.
“Lie back. I’ll take care of you,” he promises, and from the look in his eyes, I know he’ll make good on it.
My back hits the mattress, and he slides in between my legs, settling his palms on my knees. His fingers shift, curling behind my knees, and he jerks me closer to him, slamming me against his erection.
He leans down to kiss me briefly before trailing down my body. He reaches my pussy and doesn’t hesitate to dive in. I lean up on my elbows to watch him eat. He holds eye contact with me as his tongue flicks over my clit, and my head hits the mattress when he thrusts his tongue inside of me.
He slips his hands beneath my ass and flips us over in a fluid motion, leaving me on top.
I ride his face without mercy, not letting him up for air.
His nose repeatedly bumps my clit, and I reach back to stroke him through his slacks.
He hums beneath me, lifting his hips off the bed as I unzip him.
His generous dick stands erect, the tip angry and red, pebbled with precum.
I need to taste him.
I lift off of him, giving him a slight reprieve before turning.
Nikolai’s dick is in my mouth in an instant, and he wraps his strong arms around my waist. He viciously fucks my mouth, uncaring that he’s tearing my throat up.
Warm cum rushes down my throat, and I gag on the abundance.
Regrettably, cum shoots out of my nose, and I choke, struggling to breathe.
Nikolai senses I’m in distress and rolls me off of him. He leaves the bed and returns shortly with a warm towel.
“This is your fault,” he says playfully, wiping my nose.
“Thanks,” I mumble.
“Blow.”
“This is so embarrassing,” I mutter, blowing his cum from my nose.
“If it makes you feel better, I think my nose might be broken, or at least severely sprained.”
I smirk behind the towel.
We finish cleaning up, and I’m shocked when Nikolai tucks me into bed.
“You need to rest. No arguing.”
“Where are you going?”
“I have work to do. I will be back to wake you for lunch. Sleep, my sweet Mira,” he whispers before turning off the light and shutting the door.
I lay there, listening to the hum of the jet engines, while staring at the tattoos on my fingers.
Hours ago, I was a federal corrections officer, making it day by day like everyone else. Now? I’m America’s number two fugitive, right under my soon-to-be husband.