My own name vanishes and my control over my cries goes with it as he starts fucking me.
He’s going so slow, though. Even as every grind of his hips fills me more than I’ve ever been filled before, it’s not enough to feed the fire.
I start to push myself back onto his cock, but he stops me by gripping my hips in place.
“No, kiska,” he growls ferociously. “You’ll move when I say you can move. Moan when I say you can moan. Is that understood?”
He’s still pinning me down to the expanse of marble between the gilded sinks. I try to nod, but Isaak’s fingers tamp down on the back of my neck. At the same time, he slaps my bare ass hard. I cry out.
“Use your words,” he orders. His face is a mask of cruel and savage lust.
“Yes,” I whisper back. Hating myself for saying it. Loving him for making me.
I glance up and catch sight of myself in the mirror. I’m splayed out before him, and he dominates the mirror, his reflection larger than life and intensely powerful. It’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.
Then, satisfied, he starts pounding into me, fucking me hard. Each thrust forces out a moan. Louder and louder.
I’m wide open and soaking wet for him. He’s so deep that he’s making my eyes roll back in my head.
And it’s still not enough.
“That’s a good girl,” he murmurs, leaning down to nip my ear between his teeth. His fucking gets harder and harder. Our hips crash together. My hair dances in a frenetic halo around my head.
I feel the orgasm coming from a long way off. The tempo increases, bringing it closer, closer, closer…
Until it’s almost on me. Until I’m scratching and clawing at the marble. Until my throat is raw from moaning and my legs are shaking from supporting my weight and Isaak still hasn’t stopped fucking me harder, as hard as he can, as hard as I can take it.
Until it breaks over me and drowns me in its waves.
The first clench has me spasming. Isaak keeps me pinned in place. His body flush over mine. I need that solidity. That comfort. That smell.
Otherwise, this orgasm might break me.
He fucks me again. Again. Again.
Then, just as the most intense contractions pass, he takes his turn. He grabs my hair into a makeshift ponytail and uses it to jerk me upright.
Then, with his hand on my throat, he empties himself with a roar.
I almost come again at the sight of his face in the mirror as he erupts. A single bead of sweat trickles down his perfect cheekbone.
I’m breathing hard. Sweat gathers at the base of my neck and across my collarbone. Isaak pulls out and grabs a pair of the ivory hand towels from the rack on the counter.
He offers me one. I take it, though I keep one hand planted on the marble so I don’t fall over. My legs are mush and the rest of me isn’t much stronger.
My thoughts are slowly drifting back to earth as I clean myself up.
And then it hits me.
The nagging feeling I’d had just before he’d entered me wasn’t irrational. I’m not on the pill. And he didn’t use a condom.
I turn to him, my eyes going wide with panic.
“What did we—”
But my words are drowned out by something that I feel as much as I hear. An explosion. A wall of sound and air that hits me like a fist in the chest.
The walls buckle.
“Oh my God,” I gasp, but I can’t even hear myself over the aftermath of the explosion.
I turn around just in time to see Isaak pull out a gun that he’d been concealing somewhere in his expertly tailored suit.
And all I can think is…
What have I gotten myself into?
4
Isaak
I cock the gun and focus my attention on the door.
I’d been foolish to think I could afford one night of escape.
There’s no room for respite in my world.
There’s no chance of forgetting.
“Isaak?”
I glance towards Camila, but I refuse to take my eyes off the door.
It’s our only way out of here and I don’t want to be forced into a corner by Maxim and his fucking goons.
I grab her hand and pull her behind me. “Get dressed,” I tell her urgently. “We don’t have time.”
“Time? Time for w… what? What’s going on?”
“The restaurant has been attacked. They’re here for me.”
“How do you know?”
“That explosion wasn’t for show.”
“I mean, how do you know whoever is out there is here for you?” she asks, stumbling into her dress. She’s struggling with the zipper, but it’s stuck on something and won’t budge.
“I told you,” I say. “I’m an important person. Which means I have a lot of enemies.”
The walls shake again. Another crack fissures through the wall we’re facing.
“Oh God, oh God, oh God…” Camila repeats again and again.
“Camila,” I say, forcing her eyes to mine. “Do you trust me?”
She hesitates, but the nod that follows is confident. “Yes.”
“I’m going to get you out of here in one piece, okay?”
She trembles a little, but gives me another nod.
My phone starts to vibrate, and I pull it out and pick up immediately. “Vlad, is it him?”
“It’s him, boss. I’m sorry, we should have—”
“There’s no point in ‘should have’ now. How many men?”
“At least twenty. We’re outnumbered two to one. But backup is on the way.”
“How long?”
“Six minutes, tops.”
I glance towards the door as the sound of conflict gets louder.
We don’t have six minutes.
We might not even have one.
I hear a grunt on the phone. Vlad is on the move. The pop-pop of a pair of guns trading fire follows.
“Boss, where are you?”
“Bathroom.”
“Is the girl with you?”
“Yes,” I say. “Get her to safety the moment you can.”
I hang up and put my phone away. Camila is looking at me with wide eyes, brimming with disbelief and panic.
“Stay behind me at all times,” I instruct her. “Understood?”
I’m fairly sure she nods, but it’s hard to say with how hard she’s trembling.
It’ll have to do.
I head for the door, crack it open, and keep my gun at the ready. I hold up my hand, so that Camila knows not to follow me yet.
Peering out into the hall, I listen. The sound of fighting boils over in the main dining room. We need another way out.
I fucking despise running from a fight, but I need to get Camila to safety first. Only then will I be able to come back in here and give my cousin the fight he’s asking for.
Two of Maxim’s stooges round the corner of the hallway and catch sight of me in the threshold.
One is smart enough to duck for immediate cover.
The other is not so lucky.
I put a bullet between his eyes before he even realizes what’s happening. He slumps to the ground, instantly dead. I charge forward and keep the second goon pinned in place behind the massive turquoise vase with a barrage of gunfire.
When I get close enough, I shatter the vase with a well-placed kick.
Then I grab the man by the scuff of his neck, knock the gun out of his hand, and hurl him to his knees in front of me.
One look at his face, and his name springs to my lips. “Isaak…”
“Arseny,” I growl in recognition.
His eyes widen with fear, but he still tries hard to maintain a brave face. “Ty ne moy khozyain,” he says.