Page 10

Nikolai

Katya’s taunt—“Sweet? It’s wet and tight, Nikolai, but you’ll spill about her first, or I’ll ride your face and leave you dry”—lands like a match in gasoline, her words searing through me as she leans forward by the cabin’s fire, her shirt slipped low, tits half exposed, nipples stiff and begging for my mouth.

Her ankle’s wrapped, pain etched in her wince, but her eyes burn fiercely, fearless despite the snowstorm raging outside, locking us in this wooden cage. My cock’s rock hard, straining against my jeans, her challenge stoking a hunger I can’t tame, but I lean back against the table, shirtless, water drying on my tattooed chest, keeping my cool.

We’re enemies—she’s hunting me over Irina’s disappearance, convinced I’m the key, and I’m still gauging how deep her threat runs—but this lust, this game, it’s a blade we both sharpen, cutting closer with every glance.

“Ride my face, malyshka?” I say, my tone thick with amusement, eyes locked on her cleavage, imagining her pussy grinding my lips, drowning me in her cum. “You’d be screaming my name before you got a single truth, and I’d keep every Bratva secret locked tight.”

She laughs, a sultry sound that hits like vodka straight from the bottle, and shifts, her shirt slipping further, flashing the curve of her breast, teasing me to the edge.

“Screaming? Nikolai, I’d have your cock in my mouth, sucking you dry before you could blink, and you’d spill everything—Irina, the Bratva, all of it.”

My dick twitches, her boldness a hook sinking deep, and I step closer, the fire’s heat paling next to her pull, her scent—sweat and desire—driving me wild. “Suck me off, printsessa? You’d choke on my cum, begging for more, and I’d still know nothing about your sister. Why is Irina worth all this? She is most likely dead by now.”

Her eyes narrow, but her lips curve, a wicked tease as she leans back, shirt riding up to reveal her flat stomach, a sliver of skin I want to lick. “She’s my sister, volchok, not some pawn in your filthy deals. You want my pussy on your tongue? Tell me—does the Bratva have her, or are you just jerking me around like you’re dying to jerk off to me?”

I cross my arms, tattoos flexing under the firelight, knowing her eyes are eating me up. “Jerk off? I’d rather fuck that tight pussy you’re bragging about, Katya, make you cum till you forget Irina’s name. Bratva’s got no claim on her, but you—why tail me? Think I’m hiding her under my bed, waiting for you to join?”

She stands, wincing on her bad ankle but closing the gap, her tits brushing my chest through her shirt, sending a jolt straight to my cock. “Your bed? Tempting, Nikolai, but I’d rather ride your dick for answers, leave you panting. What’s the Bratva’s game? Smuggling, debts—give me names, or I’ll make you cum so hard you’ll sing their secrets.”

Her nerve pulls me in, and I grab her waist, fingers digging into her curves, stopping short of ripping her shirt off, my dick screaming for release. “Names? I’d give you my tongue in that pussy first, malyshka, lick you till you’re screaming.”

She presses against me, her nipple grazing my arm through the fabric, her voice a taunt that makes my balls ache. “I’d let you eat my pussy all night if it meant the truth, volchok. Was Irina tangled with your crew? Drugs, deals—what’d she touch?”

I grin, teeth bared, sliding my hand to her ass, squeezing hard, feeling her heat through her pants. “Eat you? I’d make you cum till you’re begging, printsessa, but Irina’s no dealer. I already told you everything I know.”

She pushes into my grip, her pussy radiating warmth, soaking through to tease my palm. “Bratva’s got eyes everywhere. What did they do to her? Names, Nikolai, or my mouth’s on your cock, draining you dry.”

My cock throbs, her threat a promise I crave, and I pull her closer, lips brushing her ear, her scent dizzying. “Drain me? I’d paint your face with cum, Katya, and you’d lick it up, loving every drop. Irina crossed no one I know. If she’s gone, it’s for another reason. Now tell me, are you hiding something yourself?”

She pulls back, eyes flashing, and tugs her shirt off, tossing it to the floor, her breasts bare, perfect, pink nipples hard, begging for my tongue. “Hiding? I’m wide open, volchok, pussy wet for answers. Bratva’s got blood on its hands—Irina’s? Give me a name, or I’ll suck you off till you’re pleading for mercy.”

I groan, my dick leaking in my jeans, her tits a vision I can’t shake, and I step back, control fraying like cheap rope. “Bratva does have it’s hands stained with blood, but not that of your sister.”

She laughs, bold and teasing, and limps closer, her ankle slowing her but not her fire, her hands grazing my chest, nails scraping my tattoos. “Tell me about Bratva whispers. Did Irina’s name ever surface? Deals, enemies—talk.”

I grab her wrists, gentle but firm, pulling her flush against me, her breasts pressing against my skin, my cock pulsing against her belly. “Whispers? I’d rather hear you moan, printsessa, pussy dripping for me. Irina’s no one to us. And yet, you still chased me up this mountain.”

She twists free, her eyes daring, and slides her pants down, kicking them off despite her ankle’s protest, standing in just panties, the fabric soaked, clinging to her pussy’s outline. “Chasing? I’m hunting, volchok, and you’re my prey. Bratva’s got secrets—what’d Irina stumble into? Tell me, or I’ll ride your cock till you break.”

My balls tighten, her body a fucking altar, and I growl, stepping closer, my hand hovering near her panties, itching to tear them off. “Irina’s not in our books. You need to let go of this obsession, Katya.”

She hooks her thumbs in her panties, sliding them down, baring her pussy, wet and glistening, a taunt that nearly undoes me. “Obsession? She’s my blood, Nikolai. Bratva’s dirty—what’d they do to her?”

I’m done holding back, her pussy calling me, but she kneels first, sudden and bold, her hands on my belt, unbuckling fast, her tits swaying as she looks up, eyes fierce. “I don’t know… All I know is that I want you to choke on my cum, printsessa,” I say, gripping her hair loosely, letting her take control.

She grins, wicked, and yanks my jeans down, my cock springing free, thick and pulsing, pre cum beading at the tip, dripping for her. “Does your Bratva have her chained somewhere?” she asks, licking the tip, her tongue swirling, tasting me, sending a jolt through my balls. “Give me the location, Nikolai.”

I groan, her mouth a fucking paradise, and nod, letting her take me deeper, her tongue lashing my shaft, spit slicking me as she sucks. “No chains, malyshka,” I say, voice strained, pleasure spiking as her lips stretch around me. “Irina’s not on our radar.”

She sucks harder, her mouth hot, wet, taking half my cock, her hand stroking the base, spit dripping to my balls, pooling on the floor. “I know you’re Bratva scum,” she says, pulling off, jerking me fast, her lips kissing my tip. “Was she running drugs? Tell me, volchok, now.”

My head tips back, her hand a vise, pleasure tearing through me, but I hold firm, gripping the table. “Drugs? Clean slate, Katya,” I pant, her tongue flicking my slit, teasing the pre cum. “Irina’s your ghost.”

She swallows me again, deep, her throat tight, gagging as she bobs, her tits bouncing, spit flying as she works me. “Really?” she gasps, pulling off, stroking me slick, cum and spit mixing on her hand. “She’s my sister, you prick. Bratva enemies—did she cross them?”

I’m losing it, balls tight, her mouth a relentless heaven, but I shake my head, pleasure blurring my edges. “No enemies, printsessa,” I say, voice cracking, her lips wrapping my tip, sucking hard. “Irina’s dead, as far as I know.”

She sucks my balls, one then the other, her hand pumping my cock, spit and pre cum dripping down her wrist, soaking her tits. “Dead?” she says, licking my shaft, slow and torturous, her tongue tracing the vein. “I really don’t think so. And I think you’re lying. You’re trying to cover up for your friends.”

I grip her hair tighter, not pulling, just anchoring, her mouth driving me to the brink. “No, malyshka,” I groan, her lips kissing my balls, her tongue teasing the seam. “Irina’s nobody to us—why are you so sure I’m the key?”

She takes me deep again, throat working, gagging loud, her eyes locked on mine, fierce, hungry. “Because of the photos,” she pants, jerking me, spit flying as she strokes. “You’re Bratva, Nikolai, neck deep in it. She’s linked—tell me how.”

My cock pulses, cum building fast, her hand a blur, her mouth open, waiting, eager for my load. “No link, I swear,” I say, pleasure blinding, her tongue flicking my slit, lapping the pre cum. “Irina’s yours, not ours. Why are you fighting me like this?”

She sucks me hard, one last time, lips tight, throat swallowing, and I explode, cum shooting into her mouth, thick ropes spilling past her lips, streaking her chin, her tits, dripping to the floor as she swallows, milking me dry, her hand slowing, drawing out every shudder, every drop.

“We are definitely not fighting,” she says, licking her lips, cum glistening on her chest, her voice teasing but sharp.

I pant, spent, her face a vision, cum and spit painting her, and I pull her up, kissing her hard, tasting myself on her tongue, her pussy pressed to my softening dick. “Nothing to find, printsessa,” I say, our lips brushing, her body warm against me. “And we might not be fighting, but we are still enemies.”

She grins, fierce, her nails digging into my chest, leaving marks. “Enemies? Maybe I just like your cock, volchok,” she says, and I laugh, the game still alive, our war as hot as our lust, the storm outside no match for the one we’re brewing.

It’s a taunt that keeps my dick half hard, even after she’s drained me dry with her mouth. The cabin’s fire crackles, casting shadows across her naked body, her tits glistening with my cum, her pussy still wet, dripping onto the floor as she stands, bold and unashamed, despite her wrapped ankle.

The snowstorm howls outside, trapping us in this wooden cage, but the real storm’s here, between us—enemies locked in lust, her chasing Irina’s ghost, me weighing her threat. Her blowjob tore through my control, but now I’m turning the tables, questions burning hotter than my need to fuck her again. I step closer, my hands itching to claim her, to pry open her secrets while I’m buried inside her.

“Like my cock, malyshka?” I say, my tone thick with challenge, grabbing her waist, pulling her flush against me, my dick stiffening against her belly. “Let’s see how much you like it when I’m fucking you senseless. Why’s Irina your excuse? Are you really her sister, or are you writing some article to gut me?”

She laughs, a sultry sound that makes my balls ache, and pushes her tits against my chest, nipples hard, teasing me. “An article? Nikolai, I’d rather ride your dick than write about it. Irina’s my blood. Why else would I stalk a Bratva beast like you?”

I spin her around, bending her over the table, her ass up, pussy glistening, ready for me. “Stalk?” I growl, slapping her ass lightly, watching it jiggle, my cock throbbing already, despite the fact that I just came all over her. “How long have you been on my trail, Katya? Weeks? Months? Or are you spying for the Chechens, feeding them my moves?”

She moans, arching back, her pussy brushing my tip, slick and inviting. “Spying? I’m no one’s dog, volchok. I’ve been watching you for a month, maybe two—Irina vanished, and you’re my only lead. Fuck me, or you scared I’ll bite?”

I grip her ass, spreading her cheeks, my cock nudging her pussy, and thrust in, hard, her wetness swallowing me, tight and hot. “Bite?” I pant, slamming deep, her pussy clenching my shaft, cum already dripping. “I’ll make you scream, printsessa. Sister or not, why Irina? Are you lying to get close, to expose me?”

She groans, pushing back, meeting my thrusts, her breasts bouncing against the table, her voice thick with pleasure. “Expose you? I’d rather cum on your cock, Nikolai. Irina’s gone—poof—and you’re Bratva. Tell me she’s not your fault, or fuck me harder.”

I pound her pussy, relentless, my balls slapping her clit, her juices soaking me, dripping down my legs. “My fault?” I say, leaning over, biting her shoulder, not hard, just enough to make her gasp. “What’s your past, Katya? Some reporter digging dirt, or are you playing me? How’d you find me?”

She laughs, breathless, her pussy pulsing around me, milking my cock as I fuck her deeper. “Playing? I’m just a writer, articles on art, not mafia. Found you through Irina’s diary—your name, circled. Keep fucking, don’t stop.”

I slow my thrusts, teasing, my cock buried to the hilt, her pussy gripping me like a vise. “Is that so?” I say, pulling out, rubbing my tip against her asshole, slick with her cum. “You’re too clever, malyshka. Are you a plant? Some rival clan’s whore sent to trap me?”

She moans, pushing back, her asshole opening for my tip, eager, wanting. “Whore? I’m nobody’s whore, Nikolai, but fuck my ass, make me yours tonight. Irina’s my sister, not a lie. Why did she write your name down? Tell me, or I’ll cum without you.”

I spit on her asshole, rubbing it with my thumb, then push in, slow, her tight ring stretching around my cock, hot and vice-like, pulling a groan from my throat. “Cum without me?” I say, thrusting deep, her ass clenching, her pussy dripping onto the table. “I’ll fuck you till you’re begging, printsessa. What’s your job really? Writing’s a cover, isn’t it? Are you after my head?”

She screams, the pleasure raw, her hands clawing the table as I fuck her ass, steady, deep, her body shaking. “Cover? I write for a magazine, you prick, not Bratva kings. Irina’s my heart. Why’s she gone? Fuck me, Nikolai, harder, give me something.”

I slam into her ass, my cock pulsing, her tightness driving me wild, cum leaking from her pussy, pooling beneath her. “What magazine would that be?” I pant, reaching around, rubbing her clit, making her moan louder. “Bullshit, Katya. You’ve got skills. How long have you been tailing me? Do you work for someone? The feds? The Italians?”

Her pussy gushes under my hand, her ass gripping my cock as she rocks back, meeting every thrust, her voice a moan. “Feds? I’d rather fuck you than snitch, volchok. Two months, maybe three. Irina’s trail led to you. Keep going, make me cum, tell me she’s alive.”

I fuck her harder, ass and clit, my hand slick with her juices, my cock throbbing in her tight hole. “Alive?” I say, leaning close, kissing her neck, tasting her sweat. “Irina’s not my kill, malyshka. Did you ever meet my enemies? Chechens, Albanians, do any of them pay you to dog me?”

She laughs, gasping, her pussy clenching, her ass taking me deeper, her orgasm building fast. “Pay me? I’d charge you for this fuck, Nikolai, it’s that good. No enemies, just me, hunting you.”

I thrust faster, her ass milking me, her clit pulsing under my thumb, her cum dripping to the floor. I growl, my balls tightening, the pleasure spiking. “You’re too deep in this, printsessa. This cannot be all about your sister who went missing five years ago. If it’s true, then why did you only start following me a few months ago?”

She screams, cumming hard, her pussy gushing, her ass clenching my cock, pulling me closer to the edge. “I only found out about your existence a few months ago, asshole! You’re a ghost. Fuck me, don’t stop...”

I pull out of her ass, slick and ready, and thrust back into her pussy, hard, deep, her cum soaking me, her walls gripping tight. I pant, fucking her fast, my hand still on her clit, rubbing circles. “Nothing connects us, Katya. Have you got your own enemies? Is someone extorting you to tail me?”

Her moans fill the cabin, her pussy flooding, her nipples pressed to the table as she takes me. “Enemies? Just you, Nikolai, and your cock’s winning me over. Irina’s gone, and your Bratva knows why. Keep fucking, I need it.”

I pound her pussy, relentless, my cock pulsing, her juices dripping down my balls, soaking the floor. “Bratva?” I say, grabbing her hair, pulling gently, arching her back.

She laughs, breathless, her pussy clenching, another orgasm building as I fuck her deeper. “Yes. You have to tell me what the connection is. Please!”

I thrust faster, my cock slamming her pussy, her cum a river, her clit throbbing under my thumb. I growl, the pleasure tearing through me, my balls ready to burst. “You’re too slick, printsessa. Are you a mole? Some clan’s bitch digging my grave?”

She screams again, cumming, her pussy gushing, soaking me, her body shaking as I fuck her through it. “Bitch? I’m yours tonight, Nikolai, pussy and all.”

I pull out, slick with her cum, and spin her around. She takes my cock in her mouth eagerly, and I pant, thrusting steady, her lips clenching, her mouth slobbering. “Irina’s not my sin, Katya. Did you ever cross the Bratva before? You playing me for a fool?”

Her moans rise, her mouth taking me fully, her hands gripping the sides of my body, her voice thick. She’s struggling to speak with my cock in her mouth, which I find intoxicating. “You’re lying to me, Nikolai.”

I fuck her mouth harder as if to drown out those words and that accusation, my cock pulsing, her tongue driving me wild, her cum pooling beneath her. “It’s your turn to answer questions, malyshka. Now you are kneeling to me, in case you haven’t noticed. You got a boss? Someone pulling your strings?”

“Boss? Just me, Nikolai, cumming for you.”

I’m close, my cock throbbing in her mouth, her pussy dripping down below, her fingers still circling her clit as if she hasn’t had enough orgasms already. I lose myself, thrusting deep, pleasure blinding. “Do you want my head on a plate?”

She laughs, moaning, her mouth milking me, her cum a flood. “No, not your head? I want your cock, volchok, not your head. Fuck me, cum in me, tell me.”

I explode, cum shooting into her mouth, thick and hot, spilling out, dripping down her chin, pooling on the floor as I thrust through it, her moans pulling every drop.

She grins, breathless, looking up into my eyes. “I’m fucking you, Nikolai, and winning,” she says, and I laugh, our war still burning, hotter than the fire beside us.