16. Demin
DEMIN
With everything that's happened, I'm not sure waiting to inform my uncle about the situation has been a good thing.
I've busied myself with work and giving Sergei orders, but it's time Sebastian knows the fullest extent of what's going on.
This is his family to command, and I've kept him in the dark long enough.
So I sit behind my desk and dial his number, not really ready for the shitstorm he might unleash on me in the way of new directives and lectures. When he answers, he's all business.
"Tell me we're moving," he says, and it sounds like he's moving, traffic noise behind him.
"We're moving, Seb. The lab's finished. In three days, your chemist will be at that bench whether he wants to be or not.
" This obviously isn't the part I want to relay to him, but it's important business, nonetheless.
I'm here because he sent me to do a job, not because I'm doing my own thing.
I am an extension of the Roshin name and nothing more. To him, this is essential.
"Good," he hums and then sighs hard. "And the other thing? You’re handling the night that went wrong?" My eyes drift upward toward the window and I focus on the tree outside that dances in the breeze.
"Handled, or being handled." I don't know how much to tell him. I know he's not a fan of Sergei, but I can't do this on my own. "I brought in outside help and he's good. He's running it quietly. If there's a mole in the house, he'll find it without spooking whoever it is."
"Outside?" Judging by his tone of voice, Sebastian doesn't love the choice, and I didn't expect him to. "Who?" But even my uncle is smart enough to know when my hands are tied and I have to make a move. Sometimes you just don't get a choice.
"Better you don't have the name. That's the point of an outsider." I pause for a second, hoping he trusts me enough not to pressure me, then say, "You trust me to clean my own house, or you don't."
"I trust you," he says cautiously. "But understand me, Demin. A leak bleeds outward. Today it's a raid. Tomorrow it's a shipment, a meeting, a man's address." Pausing for emphasis, he adds, "One day, it could be your head. That's how these things go."
"That's why he's here, Boss." So he isn't going to pry in on my choices, which is good, but he is still leery about this. He's probably right to be. He’s had more than one occurrence where someone tried to take him out.
"Then let him work…" The road noise gets quite loud for a second before he says, "And three days? That's good…"
"Three days."
"Make it happen," he grunts. "Stay in touch." He hangs up, on to whatever other pressing matters he has to deal with today, and I rise from my chair, ready to move on with things. The hardest part of my day is over and right now, I need a moment of stress relief.
I walk to the terrace overlooking the gardens with a view of Berlin that's unrivaled.
I have so much on my mind, it's hard to calm myself and get my brain to settle.
The only time in the past three weeks I felt capable of rational thought was the night of that raid, immediately after I had Isabela in the shower.
My hand slides into my pocket and I pull out my phone, texting Mishka to bring her here to me. He responds that he's on the way, and I put the phone back.
She's become addictive, like a sweet drug my body craves. I can't seem to get her out of my head, and right now, my body is screaming to have her again. Though, I'd never force her to do it and expect her to be anything other than a whore to me from then on. And she's not that.
Any woman with a loyalty to family as deep as hers runs is worth having a second look at. So when Mishka lets her out onto the roof and she walks cautiously toward the table, I turn and study her.
Over the past three weeks, I've managed to stock her with a wardrobe and some essentials, which she mostly refuses. But today she wears a pale blue sundress and her hair is braided. She looks hesitant, but not scared.
"The basement's finished. We've included everything your father needs, better than anything Solano ever gave him.
In three days, my men will move him down there and he will start work.
" I beckon her to the rail where I lean, letting my gaze drift across the skyline.
"I wanted you to hear it from me before it happens. "
"No," she says coldly. "I already told you I won't help you force him, and I won't stand there and watch you do it either…"
"Isabela, you're taking this too hard. It's not a dick, Milaya, lighten up."
Her eyes darken as she glares at me. "This isn't a fucking joke, Demin."
"No," I agree, "it isn't. But there's a misunderstanding I should clear up." I lift my hand, brushing a flyaway hair off her temple. "You seem to think you have footing to fight me. I make the decisions, and I know what I’m doing."
"Then why even tell me?" Her glare is cold as she turns it on me, completely ignoring the beauty of the landscaping.
"Oh, you know… provoking that fiery attitude you have makes my dick so hard…"
The rage in her eyes is humorous, but I’m dead serious. When she looks at me like that, there's no controlling my cock. It has a mind of its own and it's swelling right now, even as she stalks toward me with her shoulders squared and her hands fisted at her sides.
"You think this is funny?" she hisses. "You think I'm going to break? That one day I'll just give up and do what you say like a good little—"
"Whore?" I cut her off and catch her hand as she raises it to slap me. She's not nearly the type of woman I'd really call that, but watching her be goaded to rage is arousing. She is so fucking beautiful when she's angry.
"Get your hand off me." She lifts her chin. "The only difference between you and Solano is you fed me dinner first."
By rights, I should've lost patience with this woman a week ago, sent her back to a locked room and let her father's suffering do the convincing. Any other person in my house who spoke to me the way she does would already be a problem I'd solved.
But fuck, do I enjoy this.
That's the trouble with her—I haven't found a clean way to deal with her. She defies me openly, in my own house, and instead of putting her down for it, I want to see what she does next. I want to keep her talking just to watch her get angrier. Like cat and mouse, and I am the winner every time.
I reach out and catch her chin, turning her face up to mine so she has nowhere else to look. She stills under my touch but she doesn't flinch, and her eyes lock onto mine, so furious and bright.
"Let's be clear about something," I tell her in a rumble. "You belong to me now. Not Solano. Not your father. Me. This house, this roof, the bed you sleep in, the air you're breathing in it—all mine. And when I say to do something, you fucking do it."
I wait for her to twist out of my grip. To slap my hand away or tell me to stop, to give me any of the hundred reactions a sensible woman gives.
She doesn't do any of them.
She holds my eyes, her fury never breaking, and the corner of her mouth pulls into a smirk. "Then make me," she says, and it unleashes something I don't even try to hold back.
There's nothing gentle left in me by the time my mouth crashes down on hers, my hand sliding from her chin into her hair. For half a second, she's rigid, and I think I've misread it, thinking she's going to shove me off the roof if she can manage it.
But her hands come up and fist in the front of my shirt, pulling me in instead of pushing me away. She kisses me back like she's been waiting just as long as I have and is just as furious about it.
I get an arm around her waist and pull her off the railing, into my body, and she whimpers against my mouth as I crush my mouth to hers, the kiss raw and demanding as my tongue sweeps in.
She whimpers again and pulls me closer as I keep one arm locked around her waist, holding her body flush to mine while my other hand drops to the hem of her sundress.
I inch the fabric up her thigh, bunching it at her hip, so I can slide my fingers between her legs.
I cup her pussy firmly, stroking as I kiss her deeper. "You drive me fucking crazy," I growl against her lips. "Defying me like this, then melting when I touch you."
She whimpers again, but her hips keep shifting against my hand. So I press two fingers inside her, thrusting slowly while my thumb works over her clit. Her breath catches, turning into another soft, needy whimper that she can't hold back.
I don't let up on the kiss, devouring her responses as my fingers keep moving inside her pussy. "This is what you need, isn't it?" I murmur, biting at her lower lip before soothing it with my tongue. "Me taking control right here where anyone could see."
She trembles, clutching harder at my shoulders and her whimpers mix with the wet sounds of my hand between her thighs. I kiss her through every reaction, drawing out more of those desperate little noises from her throat.
Her body rocks into my touch, but I keep the pace controlled, focused only on her heat and the way she falls apart. I swallow another whimper with my kiss, my fingers never stopping their possessive rhythm.
"That's it," I growl against her lips. "Let it take you."
Her walls start to tighten around my fingers in quick, fluttering pulses.
I don't slow down, driving her higher with each thrust. Then it crashes over her.
Her back arches sharply, pressing her body flush to mine as a long, desperate whimper tears from her throat into my mouth.
Her pussy clenches hard around my fingers, rhythmic spasms gripping me tight in wave after wave.
I feel every powerful contraction, the way her inner muscles lock and release in uncontrollable surges that shake her entire frame.
She claws at my shoulders, her hips jerking erratically as the orgasm rips through her. "Demin—" she gasps, the word breaking into another muffled cry. Her whole body shudders violently in my arms while her pussy continues to pulse and squeeze around me.
I keep kissing her through it, devouring every gasp and whimper as the waves keep coming, drawing them out until she starts to sag against me, breathless and limp. I hold her steady, my fingers still buried inside her as the final tremors fade.
She leans heavy against me, breathing ragged, and I pull my hand free and spin her around toward the railing.
She gasps as I bend her forward over the rail, hands gripping the metal for balance.
The sundress rides up her back as I hook my fingers into her panties and rip them down her legs, tearing the fabric away completely and tossing it aside.
"God, what a perfect ass," I growl as I free my cock and line up behind her, thrusting into her pussy roughly.
She groans, body jolting forward, but I grip her hips and start fucking her.
God, how I've craved this and wanted to see her reaction, and it couldn't be more perfect.
She's pliable and yielding to me in every way.
"Please, Demin," she begs, voice shaky as she pushes back against me. "Oh, my God… harder."
I bring my hand down on her ass and her flesh reddens under my palm. She moans and pushes back even more. So I spank her again, harder this time, then fist her braid and yank her head back, arching her body while I pound into her with long, powerful thrusts.
"You want it like this?" I growl, my hips snapping forward. "Bent over my railing, taking my dick where anyone could look up and see you like this?"
"Shit," she pants, but her words dissolve into moans. "Don't stop. Please, Demin, don't stop."
I keep her braid wrapped tight around my fist, pulling with each thrust as I spank her ass again and again.
Isabela makes such desperate, needy sounds that cause my dick to swell more and her pussy grips me tighter with every strike, fluttering wildly.
I feel her start to come, walls clamping down in strong, rhythmic spasms that milk my cock from base to tip.
Her whole body shakes, thighs quivering as sharp cries rip from her throat. The contractions roll through her in deep, pulsing waves, each one squeezing me harder than the last, her inner muscles locking and releasing in uncontrollable surges that nearly pull me over with her.
"Fuck, your pussy feels so incredible when you come, Milaya," I growl, gliding in and out through her thick moisture. It's incredible, watching her ass pucker and pulse as she jolts and twitches.
The sight and feel of her coming undone so completely pushes me right to the edge. I slam deeper and come hard, groaning as my cock pulses inside her. Thick spurts fill her with each heavy throb, the release crashing through me in intense waves that make my vision blur and my legs lock.
"Shit… yes," I breathe as I keep thrusting through it, riding out every surge. I empty myself into her, dragging the pleasure on until I have nothing left but a sensitive cock and a pounding heart.
I stay buried deep for a long moment, both of us breathing hard, her body still trembling in the aftershocks. Finally, I ease out slowly and pull her upright against my chest, smoothing the sundress down over her hips with one hand while the other releases her braid.
I turn her to face me, my hand cupping her jaw so she has to look at me. Her eyes are still hazy, lips swollen from my kisses.
"The only reason your father isn't down in that basement right now getting tortured until he agrees to cook is because I find you useful," I tell her. "Keep that in mind."
Hurt flashes across her face first before it hardens into anger. She jerks her chin out of my grip, eyes blazing. "I won't sleep with you again if you force him to cook," she snaps, voice shaking with fury. "I mean it, Demin. Not ever."
I catch her wrist before she can step back, pulling her close again. "You belong to me. You'll do what I say, when I say it. Whether you spread your legs willingly or not is up to you, but it changes nothing."
She yanks free, cheeks flushed, and stomps toward the terrace door, and I swear I see tears in her eyes. The sway of her hips and the braid swinging down her back make my dick twitch even now. I watch her go, but a strange twist settles in my chest.
Fuck. She’s addictive in a way I didn’t plan for. I want her coming to me because she craves it, not because I’m holding her father over her head. But orders are orders. Sebastian expects results, and the lab is ready. I have three days to make Octavio Cruz useful, whether Isabela likes it or not.
I drag a hand through my hair and turn back to the railing, staring out over the Berlin skyline while I tuck my dick away and think about the pressure I'm under. The hardest part isn’t breaking him. It’s dealing with what she’s becoming to me.