He pounds so hard and fast that each thrust punctuates my moans. Then he buries himself deep and unloads, growling with every thick spurt. Warm fluid gushes around his cock and dribbles down the inside of my thighs.
As he starts to pull out, I lock my legs around his hips. “Don’t.”
“Rodnaya, your legs…”
“I don’t care. Don’t pull out, Pavel.”
He burrows into my neck. How confusing is that? Just moments ago, I was ready to race out the door and fulfill whatever weird fantasy he has about me going into witness protection.
But now?
Jesus, I just can’t let him pull out of me. I can’t because I know what’s coming next.
The chilling emptiness. The wicked regret. The sadness.
I don’t want to deal with it.
But I don’t want to watch him fade either.
Before I know it, I’m cushioned on the bed. Pavel touches my chin, looking into my eyes while he pulls out. He slides his hand between my folds and rubs his cum into my pussy. My body jolts from the pleasure of it. And then I just feel guilty.
“Stay here,” he commands softly. “I’m grabbing a towel.”
That’s his new catchphrase after sex. We can’t stand each other in public, but we’re fucking like rabbits in private. And tender, too. So oddly tender.
I don’t think we’ve ever screwed this much.
As promised, he returns with towels and wipes me clean. He fixes my position on the bed. He strokes my hair.
My stomach rumbles. Heat flushes my cheeks as I hide my face in my hands. “I forgot about dinner.”
He kisses the crown of my head. “I’ll get something from the kitchen.”
I watch through my fingers as he pulls on a pair of gray joggers. He pads toward the door. He pauses to look at me.
I hide again. It’s not until after he leaves that I slide my hands from my face.
It’s so quiet in here.
It’s sofinal.
The silence thickens as I think about the article.
I hear him speak, the words stinging me.You did this for yourself.
And he’s right. I did do this for myself. Because it’s not like he’s doing anything that could end this senseless violence and bloodshed. We’ve spent so much time doing things his way. Why can’t we try it for me? I have every right to act as he does. To do things of my accord.
And then his other words echo.
It’s what the other bosses think.
He’s not ready to walk away. I don’t think he ever will be. Not when he’s thinking in terms of his image, his reputation. And that’s why the article works so well. It pivots the blame to Cardona. It makes him look like he’s foolishly attempting to grab at whatever he can. Greed is fine; greed is respectable. But it’s the sheer brazenness of Cardona’s arrogance that is on display. The murdering is fine. The stealing, the drugs, the prostitution, the money laundering—all that is by the books.
But being arrogant? Thinking you’re too big to be taken down?
That just motivates others to hate him. And the first step to truly taking him down is to get the others to hate him.
A buzzing noise drags me out of my thoughts. I glance around with a concentrated frown, trying to find my phone. I wrap myself in one of the towels Pavel brought to me and peer into the hallway, locating my phone under my jeans.