Page 52 of Cruel Russian King

Three weeks.

That's how long it's been since I had sex with Artyom. Since I folded like a damn lawn chair, wanting to please him so badly that I turned into a damn sex fiend.

I didn't know if to feel ashamed by how much I was turned on by how brutal yet pleasurable it was or ashamed that I wanted him to do it to me again.

Needless to say, things are awkward between us, even though we had breakfast and dinner together. Because every time I saw him I wanted him to rip my clothes off and tie my hands with his belt and do whatever filthy little things that he wanted.

And Artyom is not a man I should be liking. Not the man that should make my pulse spiked, my knees weak and my panties damp. But…here I am.

I pushed myself out of bed and headed to the bathroom to meet Artyom for breakfast.

An hour later, Artyom left for the office and I made my way back to the bedroom.

The past few days I've been feeling like I'm living in someone else's body. Besides headaches, my face hurts and I feel as though a Mack truck had slammed into me. I didn't have much of an appetite. I knew I was coming down with something.

Today however a new symptom had been added: nausea.

I had barely made it to the bathroom before I puked into the bowl.

God! This flu was going to kill me.

Ten minutes later, I stood, washed my face and downed two painkillers and made my way back to bed and curled under the covers.

I didn't tell Artyom anything, not that I think he'd care anyway. But, thirty minutes after crawling into bed I ran back to the bathroom as fast as my lead-filled legs would carry me, and I threw up again.

I lay on the bathroom floor for thirty minutes before having the strength to get up. After washing my face and drinking some water I stepped out of the room. Ruslan was sitting on a chair next to the door.

He shot me a look.

“Mrs. Rykov, are you okay?” Concern flashed across his face.

“I think I have a stomach bug. Do you think you could take me to the pharmacy to get some medication?” I asked weakly.

“I can get one of the guards to get whatever you need.”

“I'd like to talk to the pharmacist so they'd know exactly what to give me.”

“No problem. Mrs. Rykov.”

“Just give me a few minutes and I'll be right down okay?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

I entered the room, closing the door behind me, to get ready.

Thirty minutes later, Ruslan walked into the pharmacy with me.

“You can purchase anything you want here. Mr. Rykov owns it.”

I nodded and headed straight to the pharmacist while Ruslan lurked behind, for which I was grateful.

“Hi,” I smiled weakly at the older woman behind the counter. “I think I have the flu and I'd really like some medication to help with it.”

“Hi, sure. Tell me your symptoms.”

“My head is pounding, my body aches, I'm always tired and today I began to throw up.”

“When did these symptoms start?”