Page 51 of Pay the Piper

I grunt and follow the Santori man who’s asked for help, nodding to Dante on my way out and confirming Teddy’s in charge of Thatcher for tonight. As soon as I step into the room with the sniveling piece of shit they want me to torture, I realize I’ll be here a while. He has nothing to do with the Canadian mole, but Russia could have very well sent him as a backdoor attempt to undermine Mila’s efforts and reach Teddy.

Grabbing a hammer and long nails to start with, I let him scream behind me as I type a text that puts me in an even worse mood.

“You know, thanks to you, I won’t see my woman until much later tonight,” I say, letting Abby know I’ll be late getting home. Scheduling a food delivery for her, dessert included, I beg her to stay the night so I can crawl in next to her when I finally make it in.

“I don’t give a fuck about your bitch,” the dead man spits, and I bask in a new depth of rage I wasn’t aware I possessed.

Abby: ☹ I’ll miss you, but I’ll keep the bed warm 😉 Thank you for sending dinner

The selfie she sends of her naked body hidden only by a strategically placed fluffy blanket shows that she’s already made herself at home for the night. Fuck, do I really need to torture this guy?

“Goddamn simp, smiling at a fucking phone. What is it? Did she send you a picture of her spread cunt or something?”

Well, I suppose I do.

“I’m about to have you singing secrets of your ancestors that you didn’t even know, fucker. That woman you’re disparaging, if she were here, would beg me to have mercy on you.”

The first nail through the top of his foot has him changing his tune. My favorite starting salvo is predictably painful and with minimal blood loss. The second has snot pouring from his nose, and whoever trained this man was a pussy. Or in a hurry.

“Too bad she’s not here. Now, tell me where you came from.”

Chapter 21

If it were possible to die of happiness, I wouldn’t have survived the past few days. Misha and I spent almost the entire weekend in his bed in a never-ending loop of sex, food, and our favorite movies and trash TV. When my alarm for skate lessons went off Monday morning, it was like pulling teeth to get him out of bed. We didn’t even make it on the ice. Halfway through our stretches, Misha pulled me away and took me on every surface of the locker room.

Oh well, he’s got the skating basics down by now. I knew it wouldn’t take long for someone as athletic as Misha to pick it up. A tweak here and there to his technique and some confidence was all it took. He skates like he’s been doing it for years now, and I’m so proud of his progress.

It was strange falling asleep without him last night. On the one hand, I missed having him to cuddle up to, but at the same time, there was a peace in knowing I was still safe and cherished. I slept like a rock, not even waking when he got into bed. I’m not sure when he got back from his hockey awards party or whatever it was, but I woke up in the Misha cocoon I’ve come to know and love.

He’s usually the first one up, bringing me trays of breakfast every morning, so I savored the morning cuddles for as long as I could before my bladder couldn’t take it. It wasn’t an easy task, but I managed to wiggle free from his arms without waking him and decided to go ahead and get my morning shower out of the way. That way, I’d be nice and clean for Misha to well…get me dirty again.

After I’m showered and ready for the day, I tiptoe back into the room only to find an empty bed—

“Eeek!”

Arms wrap around me from behind, and along with my blood-curdling scream, I completely freeze up. It wouldn’t be unlike Conor to send someone here to keep an eye on me or even torture me, especially if they saw how close Misha and I have become. God, he would kill me with his bare hands if he knew what I was doing. Familiar laughter fills the room, and I’m finally able to breathe.

“We’re going to have to work on your fight or flight, lesnaya.” He dips his head and nuzzles my neck. “I missed you last night.”

A trail of kisses down my shoulder and I’m putty in his arms, melting into his embrace. “You should’ve woken me up.”

“But you were sleeping so beautifully. I wanted to take you while you slept, but I didn’t.”

“You should have,” I breathe as he moves his hand from my waist to the top of my towel.

“You shouldn’t have told me that,” Misha growls, ripping the towel from my body. He bends me over the side of the bed. “Fuck, Abby, this ass…”

The evidence of his approval is clear as his erection hardens against me. With the towel, I didn’t notice he wasn’t wearing any clothes, but now it’s obvious there’s nothing between us. I want nothing more than for Misha to sink inside me, but instead of feeling his thick head breach me, he crouches down. His grip on my hips is bruising as he kisses up my thighs frantically, as if every inch he misses will disappear. He only manages to slow down to savor as he licks from my clit to my opening then moves on to my ass, this time biting and sucking so hard I know I’ll have marks.

Misha stands and moves his grip from my hips to my breasts, squeezing hard as he pulls me back against his chest. His kisses continue, this time up the back and around my neck, and I turn my head so that I can meet him. I need his mouth on my own. I need his breath. I need his cock. This is the longest we’ve gone in days, and my body craves his. A wiggle of my ass is all it takes for him to get the message. He relieves one of my breasts only long enough to guide himself inside me and bottoms out hard.

The force of his thrusts causes me to fold over the bed again, but this time, Misha follows me. He wraps an arm around my neck, pulling me close to him, while using the other on my hip. This angle is deep, and his piercing hits just the right spot. The friction of the bed against my clit combined with his relentless pace have me close to release within minutes. But that’s always how it is with Misha. Just looking at him is foreplay alone. The sight of him has me dripping wet and aching to be filled. It’s always like that. By the time he’s inside me, I’m already so close.

My body shakes as I reach my orgasm, and I know I’m only a few strokes away, but to my dismay, Misha stops.

“No,” he growls, pulling out of me and flipping my body around so that my back is on the bed. “You’re going to look at me when you come around my cock.”

I nod, scooting backward on the mattress so he will have room to follow, but I’m not sure how to feel as he crawls after me. His eyes are blown with lust, a predatory gaze the likes of which I haven’t seen before. It’s equal parts terrorizing and euphoric. It’s magnificent, and I couldn’t will myself to look away if I tried.