“I saw her with thatboyevik,” Victoria whispered. “I told Papa.”
Abramovicz’s shoulders straightened as he shot her a look. “What?”
That was news to both of us, but before he could get side-lined, I reached forward and tugged on his hand. When my fingers tangled with his, he stared down at them as I stepped into him. Moving closer so that I could press my fingers to his chest.
“Denis, why are you trying to frighten us?”
He licked his lips, his gaze dropping to my mouth as he rumbled, “You think you can try to ensnare me when you’ve spent half a decade avoiding becoming my wife?” His mouth curved into a sneer. “You’re exactly like your mother. A slut. Your father dealt with her, and it’ll be my last honorable act as his Sovietnik to deal with his treacherous whore of a daughter.”
Inside, I froze, but outwardly, I carried on in my role. Ignoring Victoria’s garbled cry, I moved closer to him, hating myself, but knowing this had to be done. Knowing I had to protect my baby sister.
Somehow, I had my answer.
Fatherhadbeen behind Mama’s death.
Even as I wished that I’d been armed with a machete and not a glass souvenir when I’d killed Father, I rubbed my tits against Abramovicz’s chest, and whispered, “I was frightened. I didn’t want to marry into the Bratva.”
“Camille—” Victoria choked out softly, but I ignored her.
“You were born Bratva,” he rumbled, ignoring her as well. “You know that means you’ll die Bratva.”
I peered at him from under my lashes, watching him watch me, his pupils dilating, and his hideous dick hardening against my belly as I let my hands rub over his chest.
“I know,” I told him.
“You chose the Irish.” His top lip curled into a snarl. “You chose to be a party to their treachery—”
I was losing him.
I dropped my hand to his dick and rubbed him through his pants. He jerked back in surprise, but he didn’t push me away like I’d been sensing he was going to do. If anything, I’d thought he was going to backhand me, but I could see the calculation in his eyes. Knew that he’d let me whore myself out before he pulled out the gun he probably had tucked into the back of his pants and blew out my brains.
I was okay with that, so long as it happened on my schedule.
Slowly, I sank to my knees, my eyes on him as his throat bobbed when I moved to grab his zipper.
Slowly, I lowered it, reaching in to grab his cock, to pull it free from his fly.
Slowly, I pressed a kiss to it.
He stank.
Piss and a weird dirt-smell.
I tried not to gag, not just at the stench of him but at the prospect of putting him inside me. My mouth was dry, so dry, but I forced myself to swallow, to try to bring up some saliva, and though there wasn’t much, it was better than before.
And then, I slipped my lips around him.
He was small, the only saving grace.
A shocked groan escaped him as I accepted every inch of him into my mouth. His hands went to my hair and he snagged his fingers in it, holding me so tightly that it was painful, but I ignored it, let him relax, let him soften his guard, let him near climax...
And that was when I bit him.
Like a starving dog tearing into a sirloin steak, I bit down hard. My teeth were my weapon, my means of saving Victoria from being raped by this man. I couldn’t save her from fingers or dildos, but I could save her from this cock.
If he killed me next, he’d be dickless, and that was all I needed.
A high-pitched shriek escaped him, a wail so loud that it made an air-raid siren look quiet. I could hear the guards at the door scrambling but even as his hands tightened around my hair, pulling at it so hard that I knew he was tearing it out from the roots, I didn’t stop.
And I chewed.
They could sew it back on otherwise.
Blood gushed into my mouth, finally making it moist, as I pulled on his cock like it was taffy.
He finally dragged me off, but it was too late.
For both of us.