Page 16 of The Tsar’s Obsession (Bratva Sinners #1)

Carpe Fucking Diem

Mia

Was I thinking? No.

Was I capable of thinking? Also no.

So, it was a lose-lose situation for me. Fuck the stupid vibrator. Kirill was right there, and I wanted—I craved to belong to him.

There was something dark and dangerous about him—an aura of mystery and secrets.

I began to suspect that he wasn’t at all who he claimed to be when we first met.

But I didn’t fucking care. I wanted him, I needed him, and I was sinking deeper with every single word he spoke and every single glance he threw my way.

The tiny backstage loveseat was situated behind a few makeshift curtains, the shadows plentiful, but the area absolutely open to any interruptions.

Yet that made it even hotter, on the cusp of inappropriate and acceptable to me when I was with him, only with him.

Kirill was an amalgamation of every single desire and fantasy my soul had ever possessed.

His tongue so soft and gentle on me; he fucking worked my clit like he was born to do this, teasing my entrance with just one finger. After all the stimulation he served me earlier, I was incredibly close to exploding.

"Mmm." His deep voice reverberated through my core. I had no strength to open my eyes as I leaned back on this couch, my legs spread, my evening dress raised, and my body in ecstasy. Relentless, Kirill worked so diligently to bring me to the edge. "Such a good fucking girl for me."

Oh God, those words opened up Pandora's box inside my soul. That's what I wanted. To be his good girl, to belong, to please, to hear him praise me, to hear him degrade me, to have him love me.

"Oh my fucking God, don't fucking stop," I pleaded in a voice I didn't recognize, and he fucking didn't, using his tongue and fingers to bring me to an orgasm that ripped through me with the force of a natural disaster.

I swear, my soul floated out of me, and I was left a mere empty vessel in a dress, with a giant and gorgeous man between my legs.

Unable to speak or think, I panted like I just finished a marathon, and as if nothing happened, Kirill gently pulled my thong back into place.

He dragged his wet and puffy lips on my inner thigh, landing small and gentle pecks, like he didn't just fucking obliterate me.

"Oh my God." Something akin to embarrassment overwhelmed me, and I slowly pulled my dress down, letting him place his head on my knees and threading my fingers through his hair.

His arms wrapped around me possessively, and we stayed in post-orgasmic bliss, together, until I blurted out with a giggle, "Who are you? "

That question tormented me day and night. Who was he, really?

"Mr. Alekseev?" Immediately, my euphoria disappeared without a trace when someone called his name, but Kirill only lifted his head off my knees and looked in the direction of the voice, displaying zero discomfort.

"Yes?"

"It's time for your speech, and then we can introduce the other speakers." The man informed us and eyed us with discomfort and suspicion.

"Yes. I'll be there in two minutes." But his attention was on me, still on his knees. "You're leaving with me tonight. That's not a request." That deep voice informed me, his tongue running over his lips in an attempt to lick something off. Me. The taste of me.

Back in my seat and Kirill on stage, my heart beat a mile a minute while I watched him discreetly lick his fingers before stepping into the spotlight. What a dirty man. I fucking loved it.

"Thank you for coming tonight," his voice echoed throughout the room, that slight Russian accent unmistakable, and his eyes only on me when he said those words. His smirk grew into a wide and blinding smile, and he launched into a prepared speech about how happy he was to be here.

"What's been happening to you this evening?" Viv's sly voice echoed in my ear as she crouched beside me, startling all my senses.

"What do you mean?" Oh fuck, was it that obvious? I tried to play stupid, but Viv wasn't buying any of it anymore.

"Girl. Carpe fucking diem. Whatever the hell is going on between you and your client "—Viv used air quotes—"is fucking obvious to the entire room. Just fuck already."

My face burned a burgundy color, I was sure of it, but I deflected again. "What? You're crazy. There's nothing going on."

"And we're excited for the next stage of our partnership. Thank you." Kirill finished the speech and stepped off stage.

"Okay, bitch. Keep lying to yourself, but don't lie to me!" she whisper-yelled while another speaker stepped up to the little podium. "He only has eyes for you. The way he ran after you—he doesn't even care who knows."

I refused to admit how her words affected me. Like this was the only thing I wanted to hear. Like this was a message from God. Like I was slowly being dipped in honey. Like my heart was being mended with sticky marshmallows, all its scars and scrapes filled up with sugar and sweetness.

"I'm almost thirty, Viv. I'm not getting involved with a man who seems to be a walking embodiment of sin. All kinds of sin." The scared and logical side of my brain kept fighting, "I'll admit the allure is there, but...I have to chill. I can't be doing this."

I looked for all the evidence to the contrary of what was happening inside my heart.

"Just one night. Just give him one fucking night , Mia.

You won't die. But he looks like he might.

" I turned back to Viv, but there was no humor on her face.

No joke, no hyperbole, she was dead serious.

"Just one night." She raised one finger and then straightened out, her green dress sparkling in the lights bouncing off the stage.

With a knowing glance, she quickly turned and receded, leaving me to my own thoughts and Polina’s death stare.

Every single interaction at this event was somehow altering my brain chemistry.

A blazing fire of jealousy erupted inside me every time I caught sight of Polina.

She was undoubtedly a beautiful and strong woman.

Her skin so soft and glowing, her eyes seductive, and her tongue sharp.

What was he doing with her around? Why was she around?

After she was sure I caught her staring, she grabbed her glass and moved a few empty seats toward me. "I love your dress!" she gushed and served me a look of false appreciation that was hard to ignore.

Having no desire to engage in her antics, I remained polite and finally got a good look at hers.

A tiny, shimmery number with a deep plunge line, the hem of her dress barely covering the essentials.

Her long legs were accentuated by sparkly heels, and a black spade tattoo was prominently visible on the inside of her wrist. She also had another tattoo close to her shoulder—a spider crawling up her arm.

"Thank you. Yours is beautiful too." I half-engaged even though the dress was an abomination, and I was pretty sure she knew that as well by the way she shrugged it off.

"Meh. Just something new to wear. No one here pays attention." Her thick Russian accent somehow perfectly matched her overall vibe. "Russian men compliment you; they pay attention, so it's easy to look good and dress well. Here? No inspiration." She waved at the room and threw a glance behind me.

We’d never said more than a hello to each other, and this sudden girl talk sent my intuition into turmoil. Polina kept her eyes on me but took a large sip of her drink. "Has Kirill complimented you, Mia? He enjoys all the fine things."

Within a second, the conversation felt uncomfortable and borderline threatening. I managed a fake chuckle. "He does enjoy all the fine things, you’re right. He bought a beautiful apartment." My little smile stayed placid as I grabbed my own glass of wine, hoping to hide my discomfort.

"You know men like him, though." Polina leaned in closer, swirling her drink lazily as if savoring some private joke.

Her gaze flicked briefly behind me before settling back on my eyes.

"They get bored easily. With all their new toys.

They always need more. New. Hotter. Foreign .

" And at this, I finally clued into her unexpected interest in me.

"Do they? I don't know men like him. Tell me," I encouraged, precariously close to scratching her eyes out. Polina's smile only grew, and she focused her attention on someone by the stage, right behind my shoulder. I felt it; his gaze on me. It was like a million needles slowly penetrating my skin.

As discreetly as I could, I turned back, and my eyes met those green ones, intently watching our interaction while someone else was speaking to him.

"Powerful. Demanding. In control. Deceiving .

" Polina's commentary filled up my ears, but every other sense was tuned in to those green eyes, eating me alive, landing on every part of my body.

"Men like him, Mia… they don’t keep things.

They play you. Promise you the world. Fuck you like a slut and give you everything you want. And then, they rip your heart open."

All her words were burying themselves in my mind, both slapping the rose-colored glasses off my nose and giving me the courage to do what I so wanted. Was Polina lying? Was she telling the truth? I couldn’t think straight, but Viv’s words rushed into my head.

Just one night.

Just one time. I just needed to get it out of my system. I ripped my eyes away from his and gave Polina my full attention. "Why are you telling me this?"

That condescending laugh made its way out of her again. "Just girl talk. Nothing more." She looked right past me and added her last words in a lower voice. "The devil doesn't always have horns and a pitchfork, Mia. Sometimes he has green eyes and looks just like what you've always wanted."

With this last message, her expression visibly changed, and she spoke theatrically to someone behind me. "I'm not, I'm not hogging your girl! She's all yours."

All his. Just one night.