Page 27 of The Bratva’s Monster

He hangs his head for a moment, catching his breath. I watch his chest rise and fall above me, my eyes following the soft sheen of sweat over his muscles. He says, “You okay?”

I nod. I’m better than okay. I’ve never felt more alive. He brushes hair out of my eyes, a moment of tenderness after it all.

“Are you sure? Do you need a minute?”

“No, no,” I say. “I’m okay. Never fucking better.”

He smiles. “Good.” He moves slowly, the new soaking wetness of our cum sliding him easily in and out. “Because we’re not done.”

I could laugh with joy. I move my hips with his. I’ve never been fucked like this in my life. I never want it to end.

11

RIKKI

The last time I had sex was a little more than a year or so ago.

It was a nothing thing. The girl was a woman I met in a club somewhere. Somebody that Gedeon probably encouraged me to sleep with. It didn’t go well. It rarely does these days.

Bratva men are supposed to have long rosters of women under their belts by the time they reach their forties. And granted, I’ve been with plenty of women in my time. My taste for the entire thing has soured lately. Maybe it’s a sign of maturity because the women who are usually interested in me are the ones seeking a particular experience. Women who want to brag that they bedded me and lived as if I’m some sort of milestone in a gauntlet to be won.

When I was a man in my twenties, it was fine. Maybe even a little desired. They wanted a ride on the monster. I’d give it to them. Now, however… Well, I suppose the novelty has worn off. Mostly because I know better than to give any of them all of myself. Completely letting the beast inside me off its leash is always dangerous.

Tonight was the closest that I’ve ever gotten to completely letting go on someone, and I’ve been lying here trying to figure out how or at what point it almost happened.

Liz is lying on her stomach, sound asleep. The warm light of dawn comes in through the blinds, casting gold light across the smooth, tanned skin of her back. She wanted this to happen tonight, wanted me to go as far as I wanted to, encouraged it, even.

What the fuck am I doing?

I look away from her, the guilt weighing on my chest like an anvil. I just slept with Gedeon’s widow. Worse than sleeping with her, actually. The things we did fly so far past any degree of respect that I was ever supposed to show her in the first place. I practically defiled her.

I must have made her come a dozen times. The last time, I was fucking her from the back, a handful of her hair in my hands. I didn’t even do her the courtesy of coming inside her that time. I pulled out and shot my load all over her ass.

The sheets are half on and half off her. Part of her welted, cum covered ass beckons me. She’d wanted me to come on her that time. I still hear her voice full of passion as she begged for it. “Shoot it all over me, zver.”

The sound of her calling me a beast in Russian still runs through me. My dick even stirs when I hear it in my head. If not for the fact that she soon fell asleep after that last time, I might still be fucking that glorious pussy of hers.

In a way, I wish I were. Then I wouldn’t have to think about what I’ve just done. Alex wanted me to get close to her, but this… This was practically blasphemy.

And I don’t even want to think about how I’m going to handle things with Alex. He has to know by now that I didn’t make it home last night. I don’t dare check my phone.

I sit up in bed and run my hands down my face, wincing as soon as my fingers touch the scratches she gave me. Hope the wounds aren’t too deep. Can’t face Alex with cat scratches all over my face.

I get up and go to the bathroom to take a piss. After, I go to the sink and look myself over. Long scratches run down my forearms, on my shoulders, along my sides… The ones on my face aren’t that bad. From the looks of it, she just barely drew blood.

I splash water on my face and debate taking a shower, then quickly decide not to. If she should wake up, then we’d have to deal with what we’d spent all night doing. And if I’m racked with guilt about it, there’s no telling how she’s going to feel. The last thing I want to do is commiserate with this woman who’s supposed to be a traitor.

I know there’s something to that, ultimately. In the back of my mind, all the ways I can use it to my advantage spin around slowly and sluggishly. Right now, I’m too messed up to go there. I need to get out of here so I can process this fucking mess I’ve put myself in.

I step out of the bathroom and look over at her. She’s stirred since I was in there, turned over on her side and pulled some of the sheet around her. The gold light from outside draws lines across her skin, over her arms and her bare back.

In another life, this would have been the perfect night. My thoughts would be looking toward a different future.

But then, I was never one for happily ever afters, anyway.

I go for the door, then I stop, a flash of silver catching my eye. The dress on the floor. The ‘very expensive’ dress that I tore to shreds getting it off her.

I take off my suit jacket and dress shirt, draping it across the dresser. Then I put the jacket back on. As small as she is, she can probably wear my shirt like a dress to get out of here. I guess it’s the least I can do if I’m going to leave her here.