Page 20

Nikolai

Long days never bothered me before. Pain was nothing more than a fact of life. You endure. You adapt. You survive.

But now, the hours feel endless.

The stack of papers on my desk threatens to topple. Three hours of calls with our contacts in law enforcement, smoothing ruffled feathers after Roman and Kirill’s convenient “disappearance.” Brass needs reassurance. Fellow Bratva captains demand explanations.

Politics. Always fucking politics. Everyone’s still bristling about what went down—men pissed off about their investments gone sideways, others demanding answers I don’t have. And it’s a bad look for the Bratva, like wolves chewing at their own tails.

The police are sniffing around, desperate for any reason to dig their claws in deeper.

“The Petrov family wants answers,” Pavel reports, dropping another file on my desk. “They had arrangements with Kirill. Profitable ones.”

“Tell them that their arrangements transfer to me now. Double their previous cut.”

“That is generous.”

“Not generous. Strategic. When power shifts this dramatically, we need stability.”

“And Roman’s territory?”

“Split it between the Kuznetsov and Belov crews. Keep everyone happy.” I rifle through the documents. “Set up meetings with both families tomorrow. Personal appearances matter right now.”

He nods, understanding the delicate balance. When power shifts in our world, the aftermath requires careful handling. One wrong move sparks a war. We have seen it before. Entire families were wiped out because someone moved too fast, grabbed too much.

“What about the police investigation?”

“Being handled. Our friends at the precinct received substantial donations to their retirement funds.”

“And the bodies?”

“Never existed.” I close the file with finality. “Officially, Roman and Kirill took an extended vacation. Very extended.”

I juggle it all, tying up loose ends like a butcher trying to patch torn flesh. Meetings bleed into one another, the weight of it pressing against my skull.

My phone buzzes with texts I ignore until the screen finally flashes her name. Katya. I lean back in the leather chair, rubbing the edge of my thumb along my jawline. I need her. And not just in the obvious way. She’s the only thing that cuts through the noise.

“Irina’s been sending me baby photos. She says she’s coming for you next.”

The threat makes me smile. I check the time. Nearly noon. She should be at work.

“Need a secretary,” I text back. “Hotel Continental. Room 1542. One hour.”

Her response comes quickly: “What kind of secretary?”

“Professional. Efficient. Willing to take thorough dictation.”

“I might know someone suitable.”

“Good. Tell her to wear something... appropriate.”

“Any other requirements?”

“Just her. Now.”

My phone goes quiet, but the restless itch doesn’t ease. I can’t get her out of my head.

It’s been years since I’ve let anyone past my walls. And somehow she tore through them like they were nothing.

She’s going to be the end of me. And I’ve never looked forward to anything more.

Finally, I dismiss Pavel and tackle one last round of urgent calls before heading to the hotel. The Continental serves as neutral ground for our kind of business. Discrete. Expensive. Perfect for meetings, both legitimate and otherwise.

The suite offers a spectacular view of the city skyline, but my attention is fixed on the door. I loosen my tie, pour two fingers of whiskey, and wait.

***

I can’t believe she’s fifteen minutes late, which isn’t a lot, if I’m being honest, but still enough to set my nerves ablaze. I pace around the hotel room, brandy in hand, the glass slick against my palm as I try to figure out why Katya could be late. I have a myriad of thoughts and likely scenarios run through my head, each one darker than the last, but none of them stick. I try her cell phone and come up short.

Maybe she just isn’t coming. It’s the likely scenario. Maybe I’ve scared her off by wanting too much from her, by craving her in ways that feel unhinged even to me. Shit! I’m not usually like this with anyone, so this leaves me pretty winded.

Then, I hear a knock, and the blood rushes back to my body. I’m weirdly elated at the prospect of meeting her away from the house and familiar territory, of acting out a fantasy that’s been in my head for days.

I move to the door and open it. Katya stares back at me sheepishly, holding her purse in front of her like a shield.

I take in her clothing first, my eyes raking over her with greedy intent. She’s wearing a black business shirt with two of the buttons undone, a tease of skin that makes my mouth water, paired with a crisp grey skirt that hugs every curve, and low heels that beg to be kicked off.

Her hair is sleek and tied back into a neat ponytail, a perfect handle for later. To complete her look, she wears glasses, and fuck, they make her look like every depraved office fantasy I’ve ever had.

We walk inside, and she sits across from me.

“Mr. Ramensky? I’m your temporary assistant.” Even her voice is different, dripping with a sultry edge I didn’t know she could wield. I don’t know how she does this—how she’s able to completely push down lengthy tones to sound both breathless and confident—but I like it, no, I fucking crave it.

I lean back in my chair, admiring how the sunlight catches her hair. “References?”

“Excellent oral skills.” She crosses her legs slowly. “Very dedicated to pleasing management.”

“Prove it.”

She stands and slides into my lap. “How would you like me to demonstrate?”

I trace her lower lip with my thumb. “Use your intuition.”

Her kiss burns away the frustrations of the morning. She tastes like coffee and promises, familiar yet thrilling. My hands roam under her shirt, finding bare skin.

“This is very unprofessional,” she murmurs against my mouth.

“File a complaint.”

She laughs, the sound brightening the sterile hotel room. “With HR?”

“With me.” I unbutton her blouse slowly, savoring each inch of exposed skin. “I take feedback very seriously.”

“I bet you do.” Her fingers work my tie loose. “Maybe we should discuss my performance review.”

“Definitely needs a thorough evaluation.” My lips trail down her neck. “Multiple assessments required.” But I stop, gently push her off and stand, walking away from her. This is torture, but I’m also aching with the need to punish her for making me wait.

“Is anything wrong, sir?”

“You were fifteen minutes late. I’m sure you heard I hate being kept waiting. I should fire you right now.”

She adjusts in the seat and presses her hands together, a mock plea that sends a jolt straight to my cock. “I’m sorry, sir, please don’t fire me. I need this job.”

“How badly do you need this job?” I ask, stepping closer.

There’s nothing rehearsed here. It’s a go-with-the-flow kind of thing, but it’s good—we are so good together—it makes me doubt my own sanity, how easily we slip into this twisted game.

I see her swallow, her throat working under my stare. Then, without answering, she steps forward until she’s close enough that I can inhale the spicy smell of her perfume. “I’ll do anything you want to keep my job, Mr. Ramensky.”

“Anything?”

“Yes.” She nods, and before I can process it, she shoves me against the wall, the impact rattling my bones. She drops to her knees and begins undoing my belt with trembling, eager fingers. “Do whatever pleases you, sir.”

With quick hands, she works my belt, and my cock springs free, already rock hard with pre-come dripping from the tip, a testament to how badly I’ve been aching for her. She licks it off with a long hard suck that makes me feel lightheaded.

She swirls her tongue around the head before she drags it down the length in a slow and torturous motion, until I’m trembling. She looks up at me then with those wide, glassy eyes, daring me to lose myself completely.

“Fuck my mouth, please. Get yourself off in my throat. Punish me for making you wait.”

I’m in disbelief. I don’t know what to say except that her words make me even harder, which feels impossible because I’m so fucking hard right now it hurts, a deep, throbbing ache that’s got my balls tight and my vision blurring. I put my hand at the back of her head, roll her ponytail tightly around my fist, and guide her mouth to my cock, her lips parting, wet and willing. I slide in and out of her mouth, feeling my chest constrict, the heat of her tongue dragging me under.

“Fuck, Katya,” I groan, my voice cracking as she takes me deeper, her throat tightening around me. She sucks harder, hollowing her cheeks, her hands braced on my thighs, nails biting into my skin as she works me with a hunger that’s almost too much. I thrust faster, my hips jerking, and she meets every move, gagging slightly but never pulling back, her eyes watering as she stares up at me.

“Please,” I rasp, the word spilling out before I can stop it, “suck me, Katya, fucking please, don’t stop.”

My voice is desperate, and I’m moaning now, the sound echoing off the walls as she drives me to the edge. It’s too good, too fucking intense—like pain and pleasure twisting together until my whole body is shaking. I’m close to tears, the pressure building so fast it’s unbearable, my cock pulsing in her mouth as she sucks me down like she’s trying to drain me.

I try to push her off, my hands weak and trembling against her shoulders, needing a second to breathe, to stop myself from coming too soon, but she refuses, shoving my hands away and diving back in, her lips locking around me tighter.

“No,” she mumbles around my cock and the vibration of my cock at the back of her throat sends a jolt through me, “you don’t get to stop me.” She takes me even deeper, her throat convulsing, and I’m gone, moaning like I’m breaking apart, my control shredding as she owns me.

I increase the pace, thrusting quickly into her mouth while she sucks me off without fail, relentless and perfect, until I’m a mess of pleas and screams, my body screaming for release.

I pull her up then, breathing hard, my control fraying at the edges and tears stinging my eyes as I gasp, “Enough,” I plead, barely holding on.

“Am I doing something wrong, sir?” she asks, looking equally confused, but the wry smile on her swollen, glistening lips lets me know otherwise.

“No, no,” I pant. “You’re doing so well, too fucking well.”

“Is my job safe then?”

“Yes.” I throw her onto the bed, the mattress creaking under her weight, and flip her around so her ass is faced up to me, so round and perfect. I roughly tug her skirt down her legs, so eager to taste her.

It’s not like we don’t have the time for this at home. But Katya still feels we should take things slow. She and Irina moved back to her place, and in between her work and my very demanding schedule these days, we barely have the time.

“No panties? Just how I like it. Jesus Christ…”

I stick two fingers into her pussy from behind and feel her shift and press down. Her moans are loud, feral, enough for me to feel like I might burst right now, with how hard my cock is throbbing painfully. “I did it for you…”

“Yes, such a good little slut for me,” I growl, then use her wetness to massage my cock before thrusting inside her with one hard thrust. She gasps and nearly collapses on the bed, her body trembling under the invasion.

The feeling of completeness, of rightness, still stuns me every time.

“God, I missed you,” she breathes.

“Show me how much you love taking this dick like a good girl.” I grab her hips with a bruising grip and pound deep, going faster and faster, the slap of skin echoing in the room.

“I think I just might let you have your job… can’t let this sweet, little pussy go away, not when it takes me so good.”

“Do you want to come inside me, Mr. Ramensky? Want to blow your load inside my pussy?” Her voice is a desperate whine, pushing me further.

“Fucking hell, Katya!”

“You’re so deep,” she screams, gathering the sheets in her hands, clawing at them like she’s losing herself. “You’re so fucking deep. This is… too much…”

I slam in, again and again, using my fingers as guidance over her wetness, making her squirm in my hands, her body bending to my will. I spank her ass hard and she cries out in pure ecstasy, coming hard around my cock, her walls clamping down like a vice. I remain inside of her, to let her ride her high for a long time, watching her unravel.

“Yeah, you’re my good girl. Ride it out, baby. You’re safe with me here, even when I break you.”

“Nikolai,” she moans, her voice cracking as it dies down, her body limp but still hungry.

I bite down on her shoulder, lick off the sting, and begin moving inside her again, harder this time, insatiable. I slam her pussy down into me, forcing her to take every inch, and feel her grip the sheets again, her knuckles white. That’s the invitation I need to keep moving, to keep pounding into that sweet wetness, to push her past every limit she thought she had. “

“Tell me you’re my filthy little slut, and that you’ll choke on my cock whenever I want.”

“I’m your filthy little slut,” she sobs, her voice breaking under the weight of it, her resistance crumbling. “I’ll choke on your cock whenever you want… please, Nikolai, ruin me, fuck me until I can’t think…”

“My good girl,” I groan, the words ripping out of me as I convulse around her, jerking as the sensations hit me in every way, a tidal wave of depravity. My throat feels dry as I slow down, coming inside of her, filling her up with a possessive heat. “Fuck…”

Finally, I pull out of her, my legs unsteady, and wade to the bathroom, my body still buzzing. Before going in, I call out to her. She steps out of the bed, takes off her shirt and bra with shaky hands, and comes to meet me, naked and wonderfully perfect, her skin flushed and marked.

“Take off your clothes too,” she whines. “I want to see all of you.”

So, I do. I get naked for her, stripping down to nothing, baring every scar and flaw. I hold her hand and we step into the shower together. I turn on the water, and with my back turned against her, I feel her step forward and trace my scars, her fingers soft but insistent.

“These scars… they define you.”

“No, don’t go all poetic on me now, Katya.” I try to make this a joke, but it comes out all ragged, my chest tight with something I can’t name. Katya turns me around to face her and plants her palm on my chest.

“Whether you want to hear it or not, I’m gonna say it anyway. You are perfect to me. The scars are evidence of your survival, and that’s what matters to me. It’s proof that you went through things and came out a better man.”

I caress her cheeks, my hands rough against her softness. “I’m not sure I’m a better man, Katya.”

“You are… to me.”

“I love you.” The words slip out before I can stop them.

“Say that again.”

“I love you, Katya.” Easier the second time. “Never thought I would. Never wanted to.”

“But?”

“But here you are. Making me feel things I buried years ago. You... you make me want different things.”

“Like what?”

“Like mornings watching you sleep. Evenings hearing about your day. Simple things I never let myself imagine.”

She traces the scar on my chest. “Good things?”

“Terrifying things.” I catch her hand, pressing it over my heart. “Worth it though. You make everything worth it.”

“I love you too.” She kisses my jaw. “Even when you drive me crazy. Even knowing what you are.”

“And what am I?”

“Mine.” Her eyes meet mine. “Just like I’m yours.”

Clothes scatter across the carpet. Ignoring the king-sized bed after not making it past the bathroom door before fucking on the floor like animals, we lay sprawl in the oversized armchair, her head tucked against my shoulder.

Sunlight paints patterns across her bare skin. My fingers trace idle circles on her back.

We stay tangled together, trading soft touches and quiet confessions. The outside world can wait. Right now, there’s only this. Only her.

I spent decades building walls, convinced love was a weakness. Now she’s torn them down brick by brick, and I cannot bring myself to care. For her, I would burn every bridge. Tear apart anyone who threatens what we have built.

Because she makes me want impossible things. Makes me believe in second chances.

Makes me whole.

My phone buzzes. It’s Pavel. Something urgent about the Kuznetsov meeting. I ignore it.

“We should go soon,” Katya murmurs. “Irina will wonder where I am.”

“Let her wonder.” I pull her closer. “Five more minutes.”

She laughs. “You said that twenty minutes ago.”

“I lied.” My lips find her pulse point. “Dangerous man, remember?”

“My dangerous man.”

The words settle something deep in my chest. A lifetime of violence and power games led me here. To this woman. This moment.

I would do it all again.

I kiss her, hard, loving every bit of this woman before me.

THE END