Until the End (Volkov Bratva #2)(42)

Her mouth was slightly parted as she gasped, her eyes focused on what he was doing to her. He twined his fingers in her hair, pulling on the strands until her head fell back, a moan escaping her.

He could feel her heartbeat pulsing as he lightly traced his tongue over the smooth column her neck, biting just hard enough to make her go tight around him, his name falling from her lips. Gripping her hip with bruising force, Mishca kept her steady as he pounded into her.

It was almost too much, like everything he felt for her was trying to burst out of him at once.

He pulled back, not wanting to push her too far too fast, but she didn’t let him go far, yanking him back by his tie, kissing him as though it was the last time, the heels of her feet digging into his back to keep him in place.

Breaking the kiss, he forced her to look up at him, wanting to see her eyes as she came. He could tell that she was close, the way she grew less self-conscious of how she looked to him.

Grabbing her hands, he placed them on her breasts, keeping his there as well as he tentatively squeezed, showing her what he wanted her to do.

“Keep them there,” he said when she thought to drop them to her sides.

Her pupils were dilated, her entire body writhing as she neared the place he was desperately trying to get her to. Before, Mishca could be considered selfish with some of his lovers, using them as a means to an end, but he made it a point to get Lauren there.

“Fuck, Lauren cum.”

That was all she needed.

He cupped his hand over her mouth, muffling her cries as she came apart in his arms. If possible, she grew tighter, nearly preventing him from going any deeper. That feeling, as well as the tingling sensation that raced up his spine made it impossible for him to last any longer.

Two thrusts later, he was groaning into the curve of her neck. They were both breathing heavily, still clinging to each other as they came down.

He felt her laughing quietly. “I think you made your point.”

Mishca laughed, making her shiver in response, feeling him still inside her. As he pulled out of her he nearly cursed, realizing too late that he hadn’t bother to use protection at all.

“I’m on the pill,” she said as though she could read his thoughts. “Do you think they heard us?”

“Hell yea!” Tristan yelled from the other side of the door.

“God, have you been standing there the whole time? Fuck off!” Lauren shouted back. His laughter died down as Tristan drifted off. “I don’t think I’ll ever live this down.”

“No worries.”

She straightened her clothes, blushing prettily as he tucked himself back into his pants.

“I haven’t made my point yet,” he said when he had her attention again. “Naomi was with me for many years, yes, but I have never felt for her an ounce of what I feel for you. When I tell you I love you, they are not just words, they’re my promise to you. Don’t let Naomi’s bitterness detract from what we have.”

Her answering smile was all he needed to know that everything would be alright.





Lauren was in Mishca’s office, sitting on his desk as he looked over plans for the new club he was opening. She had never been in here while he was working, letting him work in peace, but tonight he had invited her, wanting to have something beautiful to look at, he’d said.

She thought it might have been because of their blowup last week. If he were trying to prove that Naomi meant nothing to him, he was doing a good job of it. Since that day, he had made it a point to spend all of his free time with her, even bringing her along when he went to Brighton Beach for Bratva business, though she hadn’t actually went in with him, staying out on the pier to look at the water.

Naomi hadn’t made any unplanned visits either. In fact, Mishca hadn’t mentioned her once. Either that meant she was done trying to stir up trouble, or she was—in Lauren’s opinion—trying to think of what to try next.

Earlier, Mishca had shown her the switch that turned the frosted glass to clear, giving her a view of the entirety of the club. Leaving her book on his desk, she jumped down, going over to look out.

“This is a really nice view,” Lauren said absently, going over to the glass to peer out at the dance floor.

She canted her head to the side, staring at the odd group of men that were stealthily making their way through the club. She couldn’t say what made her pick them out from the scores of people surrounding them, yet her gaze was drawn to them.

It might have been their attire, too formal for the place. There were three of them, all dressed in black, but one walked slightly ahead of the others. He, unlike the others, was wearing a large black coat.

“Mish?”

When he crossed the room to stand behind her, one arm sliding around her waist to pull her back against him, she pointed them out.

There was this misconception that time slowed when something traumatic happened, but that wasn’t how this went.

It all happened in the blink of an eye.

Mishca leaned forward, narrowing his eyes as he tried to make out the men, but at the same time as the leader in the pack of men reached into his coat.

Lauren had only seen the handle of something black before Mishca was shoving her to the ground, covering her body with his as gunshots rang out. Glass shattered, raining shards pelting them.

The sound of the shots was deafening, but even louder were the screams of the people below them.