Thief (Boston Underworld #5)(42)
“So sweet.” He hums. “Why must you be so sweet?”
It’s the last spoken thought before his body pulls tight and he buries himself deep, shuddering out his release. Bare. He is bare, and he’s filling me with his cum. His eyes are sated and heavy when he pets my face, his cock softening inside me.
“It does mean something to me,” he says. “This gift you have given means more than you could ever know.”
In the sober light of morning, the little star is no longer under my spell. Cool amber eyes find mine in the reflection of her mirror, disinterested in my presence. I left her in the darkness of night, stealing away to the sanctuary of my own room. And now she is wearing her armor, but she should know it won’t do her any good. I will blow it up or burn it down. Whatever I have to do to show her that she is mine.
Freshly bathed, she prepares herself for the day. It’s the same ritual I’ve watched her execute from the monitor in my office more times than I can count. She brushes her hair. Applies her makeup. And then she castigates herself in the mirror for twenty minutes, a slave to her disease.
I don’t know if she wishes she was perfect, or if it’s only her obsession. But either way, she is perfect to me.
This morning, a black silk robe hangs loosely off her shoulders. And despite the cold reception on her face, her nipples are hard for me. I hope she is sore. I hope that every time she moves today, she feels my cock inside her. I want her to crave it. I want more than anything to demand she never thinks of any other man but me.
“Where are my sheets?” she asks.
“Gone.”
Her eyes pinch together. “To my father?”
I don’t answer. If she expects remorse, she should know I have none. I don’t regret taking her, nor am I sorry for the evidence delivered to her father. It’s the way things are done, and she knows this.
She cinches the belt around her robe and crosses her arms. “It’s a disgusting tradition.”
I want to do all manner of disgusting things to her. For example, right now, I’d like nothing better than to shove my cock into her mouth to shut her up. I could easily spend the day buried inside her, brutalizing her tender pussy to remind her of her place. However, I have other pressing matters to attend to. With this in mind, I toss the morning-after pill onto her vanity, along with the birth control pills the doctor provided.
She picks them up and examines them, relief flooding her eyes when she sees the first package, only to be washed away with panic at the second.
Her eyes shoot up to mine. “I can’t go on the pill.”
“Why?”
“It causes weight gain.”
“So does a baby.” I walk toward the door.
“You’ve fulfilled your duty,” she says. “You ruined me. I see no further need for protection—”
“You can either take the pills or take a baby inside you, but either way, you will be taking my cock, zvezda. Don’t fool yourself by pretending otherwise.”
I find Mischa at Kosmos, half-drunk with a stripper grinding on his lap. It’s not even ten a.m., and I’d be hard pressed to determine whether he’s been at it all night or he’s just getting started.
He lives the life of a perpetual bachelor, enjoying all the perks the brotherhood has to offer. Unlimited booze and women have satisfied many a Vor, myself included. But when I look at him this morning, it is not envy or amusement I feel. There is only pity.
Over the past few years, I have indulged my baser desires often and with whomever I please. But it has been a fleeting satisfaction. This morning, I am a changed man. I have tasted honey, and I can’t ever imagine settling for anything less again. Knowing that Nakya waits for me back at my home is a privilege unlike any other.
Considering the facts, it’s a foolish notion. Soon, I will be engaged to Ana, and Nakya will be returned to her father. It’s the only way this can work. The only way I can save her. Our paths were not meant to parallel forever. Logically, I know I’ll be forced to give her up, but it doesn’t make the decision easier to accept.
Like many of the Vor, marriage is a natural step for me. I have thought about it from time to time, believing it would happen on its own schedule. But I never imagined the face of my wife or my unborn children because there wasn’t an instinctive fit. The molds were empty, something yet to be determined. But now the pressure to fill them is bearing down on me, and it isn’t Ana’s face that I see as my wife or even the mother of my children.
The face that I see is sharper. High cheekbones and honeyed eyes. After this morning, how could I not imagine Nakya swollen with my children? They would have her tenacity. Mocha skin and my strong Russian genes. They would be unstoppable.
If it was meant to be.
Mischa opens his eyes at half-mast, a Cheshire grin spreading across his face. “Kolyan.” He makes a sloppy gesture with his hand. “Come and join us, won’t you?”
I look at the stripper. Bare tits bounce around as she grinds on Mischa’s lap, her tiny red thong swallowed up by her ass cheeks. She does nothing for me. In fact, when I look around at the variety of naked women ready and willing to please, none of them do anything for me. Brunettes, redheads, blondes. Women of all flavors and shapes. Natural or perfectly sculpted silicone. There isn’t a club in this city that boasts a better selection, yet not a single one of them inspires an erection. It only fuels my frustration as I snap my fingers at the stripper.