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I’m the only one who hasn’t made her come yet, and I’m a man on a fucking mission now. “Tell me if you want to stop.” I’ll try to if she truly does, but I don’t know if I’ll be able to. Abilene is a treasure I didn’t realize I was waiting for until she arrived.
Or rather, until Levan and I stole her in the middle of a winter storm with no intention of giving her back. “Val…” Her voice trails off, and my name lingers on her tongue as I feel her tense.
Reaching between us with one hand, I slip two fingers into the top of her shorts and gently rub across her delicate nub, petting her until she explodes in my arms. Swallowing her cries of pleasure, I follow her soon after. It’s been too fucking long since I’ve been with a woman, and this one is the most important one I’ve ever had. Providing her pleasure and gaining my own at once is a fucking treat I hadn’t anticipated until the ropes of cum shoot from the tip of my dick, soaking through my pants with each pump of my hips.
“I can…I can feel…you.” Abi’s cheeks flame with the shock of the moment, and I can’t help kissing her again.
Taking my hand away from her core, I suck my fingers into my mouth, her flavor exploding on my tongue, and I want more. So much fucking more. But I must wait. Slipping those same fingers into the waist of my jeans, I shudder as I brush it across the head of my dick, swiping through my seed and bringing it to her lips with the command, “Taste me,dzvirpasi gogona.”
Her eyes widen, and if possible, she blushes deeper as her body jolts beneath me, but she opens her mouth, allowing me to slip my finger in. Coating her tongue with my cum, she moans as the flavor erupts and her eyes close. “Christ, you’re going to kill me,” I grunt into her neck. She doesn’t let go of my finger, sucking and licking it until there’s nothing left.
“Sorry,” she whispers in my ear, finally releasing the digit.
“Never fucking be sorry for that, Abilene. Not with us. You want something, you fucking take it. We’re never going to deny you.” Glancing at her, I see her eyes soften, and I think she’s beginning to understand how we feel. We want her content with our touches before we’re intimate with her as one. We need her to enjoy it, but until she understands there’s no shame in desiring sexual pleasure, she might resent us. And I can see some of that shame filtering into her eyes now, the same way it did in the bedroom after Levan spanked her and again after she made Zakar come in his pants like a pre-teen boy when she bit his neck.
“Don’t do that,” I admonish. “Don’t feel shame for what we just did. Pleasure is part of life. It’s part of being human.” She nods her head, but I can tell she isn’t listening.
“There are bedrooms for this.”Bebia’samused voice interrupts us. “The decorator is here.” I hear her cane tapping on the floor as she waits for me to release Abi. I don’t want to. I don’t want her walking out of this room feeling anything but satisfied. “She’s waiting, Valerian.”
Nodding, I let Abilene up and watch as she straightens her clothes and follows along behind Levan’s grandmother,shoulders slightly slumped and head down. I should curse myself for making her feel that way, but I can’t regret it. I can’t ever regret having a pleasurable moment alone with her.
Shutting out the talking in the foyer, I get back to work. The only reason we’ve still allowed the decorator to come is that she’s the wife of one of our most trusted employees at one of our storage warehouses. They’ve both been loyal to the Georgian Brotherhood for decades and their parents before them.
With Levan and Zakar out of the house,Bebiais escorting Abilene around, helping her feel more welcome and trying to convince her that this is now her home and she should make it as comfortable as she wants. Anything can be changed more to her liking, and I’m curious to see what she comes up with.
Chapter5
Levan
As I bang on the front door of the Bondar home, I’m disgusted by what I see. The house is practically falling apart. There’s a hole in the roof that’s covered by a tarp. Smoke billows from two chimneys, so I assume they don’t have centralized heat, and the rickety stairs Zak and I climbed to the porch have been eaten through by termites in many places, sounding as though they might fall apart.
“What do you want?” The door is opened by a man reeking of alcohol as he wipes the snot from his nose with the sleeve of a holey sweater. And I have to wonder what they do with the money from Arman Feare. After my conversation with the man this afternoon, we’ve cleared the Bondar’s debt and secured Abilene’s safety; the only thing left is to dispose of these useless men.
“We’re here to collect Abilene’s belongings,” I inform him.
“Huh?” His eyes squint from the sunlight blinding him.
“Abilene Bondar, presumably your child, she isn’t returning here, so we’re picking up her belongings,” I repeat, and his mouth hangs open, drool dripping from the corner. Not killing him where he stands is one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do, but my plan for their deaths to appear like an accident looks more promising now.
“That fucking whore,” he grunts, and I hold Zak back from breaking his neck. It’s easy to see where she gets such a low opinion of herself, and I must say, I abhor what I’m witnessing and learning.
It’s one thing to hear her confess what goes on in her home, how she feels as though it’s her fault, and another entirely to come face-to-face with her reality—the things she deals with on a day-to-day basis.
“It would be to your advantage not to speak of Abilene in such a crude manner,” I try to warn him as we shove past the unsteady man and into the house. I already feel grimy. The stench of cheap alcohol and the fog of cigarette smoke is overwhelming.
“What did you say?” he grumbles as he stumbles past us. Zak slams the door shut, rattling the frame of the structure.
“He said, sit the fuck down and shut the fuck up,” my friend grumbles as he searches for our girl’s room. “Where the fuck is her room?” he yells after opening and closing three doors, leaving one hanging off the hinges after banging it closed.
Laughter emanates from another room. “She lives in the ground!” someone else shouts, his voice slightly clearer but still slurred. I’m still not sure which is her father.
“The ground?” Zak asks, a bite to his tone. I already know where this is going, and I’m not sure if I’ll be holding Zak back from killing the two of them or helping him bury the bodies before we burn the house to the ground.
The other man appears from the living room and points to a latched door in the floor, two feet in front of Zak’s position in the hallway. “In the ground. You two stupid or something?”
Sliding an icy glare his way, I don’t need to follow up with a verbal warning because the smirk wipes off his face, and he swallows nervously as he looks to the ground. Lifting the door, a short set of stairs leads to a dirt floor, and I feel fucking sick. The more we discover about Abilene’s life, the more I want to turn back time and whisk her away on that last day we saw her.
“You make her sleep under the house?” Keeping my tone neutral is far more difficult than I imagined.
