Ruined by my Russian Pakhan

isla

into place reverberates through the corridor-a sound that reminds me of the cage that

my enemies think that they had wo

to me. And, of course, some are not loyal to me; many want to take me down and take my place as th

I had put on as my men hunted the r

t-custom-tailored, freshly pressed. My look is completed by my Cartier limited edition gold watch that weighs on my wrist in a familiar yet nostalgic feel. The rings on my fingers feel just as familiar

guard who had escorted me out here mutt

ok me in the eye. One wrong move-one mistaken word-and h

ike victory. A familiar blacked-out Mercedes Benz pulls over and Leonid,

, to which I flash him with one of my s

ing fo

dramatically clutching his chest before mashing his foot

dn't have the information i asked you," I ask in a more calm busin

ke tosses me a thick black binder like it is nothing but a di

eyes zeroing in on

lyn

that my freedom depended on it that much, an

dn't bring myself to erase her from my fucking mind. She proved to be an eni

a boring typical. She comes from a boring middle class family in Florida to a single stepdad

dull, meticulous routine that she repeats every damn day like a fucking clock. That includes

ompetent and always came throug

shaking his head as he pull

of smoke. "Three months in a cell, and the first thing you want isn't revenge, isn

through my enemies like I always have. Instead, I'm here, thinking about her-about relishi

distraction. A fucking amateur blowjob

met me. And once I've had my fill-once I've fed this obsession clawing throu

ican Bratva. Untouchable. Feare

*

up goddamn morn

third day I am here in this fucking

e, I saw her run, but I d

d time, I

a use a diffe

bric clinging to her thighs as she moves. A thin tank top sticks to her skin, damp with sweat, teasing glimpses of the toned muscles underne

ffortless, like she's done

ight jog behind h

eight of my stare. The inev

ates her pace while pretending to ignore

at makes

ching her speed like I have all the fucking time in the

tighten

ster. A lit

r, but she doesn't. Good girl. Fear and excitement live in

half a secon

tri

for such a sof

arbone. Fuck. If she only knew how many times I've thought about wrapping my

definitely throwing in the oblivion card before she turns on her heel

ing good li

ing in step with her "Y

are

Oh right! We didn't get to introduce ourselves because you

ut and I definitely know I

eeing the reason she s

er neck, slow and betraying. It crawls over her throat, staining it with a delicate flush before

imed her-those wide, stormy irises flickering with something

e ashamed of your other

pavement and vanish. But she doesn't. She stands there, locked in place, shoulders stiff, fists curling a

eepening. "What's the rush, babochka

esn't

mory of me fucking your tiny little mouth, little Babochka? Or

hest muscles move as her heart trumps inside her threatenin

retty when you

Just barely,

n closer. Close enough for her to fe

heart thump this har

ep stu

ng

vement I catch her wrist-firm, unyielding, like a

ine, her pulse hammering so fast it mi

ver want to see you again," she

practically begging me to come all over your throat," My lips brush the shell of her

, begging me to brea

en amusement or anger but I can't real

she trails mid statement, biting her tongue, and I almost curse, wanting to

babochka,

lenge, but she stands still against me, staring at the

fucking nerves. But I surprisingly let her go and watch her as she hesitates f