Until the End (16 page)

“I know,” he said capturing her wrists in one hand, pulling them over her head, pressing them back against the bed.

She didn’t know if she could take much more. He felt…too big, like he wouldn’t be able to fit entirely inside her.

“Mish--” She thought to tell him to stop, the pain almost too great, but as he eased back out of her, then back in again, while it still didn’t feel amazing, there was just a slight feeling of something.

“Do you trust me?” He asked, his blue eyes unmoving.

“Yes,” she answered, without a doubt in her mind.

He pressed a kiss to the curve of her neck, then bit down gently on the cord there, his hips moving in earnest now.

“Say it again.”

“
Yes
.”

As quickly as the pain began, it started to dwindle away, replaced with an indescribable  feeling that had her pulling her hands free, wrapping them around him, drawing him closer.

She wrapped her legs around his waist as he tilted her up, putting them flush against one another. Gasping his name, she felt his hands flex on her thighs in response to her.

If there was a happy medium between gentle and rough, Mishca was best at it.  After just easing in and out inside of her, giving her the opportunity to get used to his size, he slipped an arm beneath her, pulling her up and practically holding her weight as he pressed her back against the headboard.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, returning as best she could what he was giving to her.

Words failed them both and opportunities for revelations eluded them both, but in this moment, they conveyed their feelings, their passion for one another.

The sound of their heavy breathing was loud in the room and no matter how Lauren wrapped her legs around his waist, she couldn’t get close enough to him.

When he was as deep as he could get, he groaned, dropping his head to the crook of her neck. She could practically feel it in him, the restraint he was using with her as he waited for her body to grow used to his size.

Pressing feather light kisses along her neck, he finally took her mouth, the gentleness slowly bleeding away to something much different, not that he was only thinking of himself. Without breaking their kiss, he reached between them, using his thumb to rub her intimately, loosening the constrictive hold she had on him with her thighs.

Mishca didn’t stop, not even as he pulled his hips back, slowly sinking back inside her again. He didn’t stop even as she gasped against his mouth, his lips curling in satisfaction at her reaction.

At first she hadn’t understood how anyone could enjoy sex, but now as he expertly moved inside her, she understood perfectly.

“Please…”

Her plea was enough for him to understand what she needed and he willingly gave it to her, cursing in Russian as she went tight around him. He could feel it, that tingling sensation creeping through his body as he tried to last, but when she said his name, softly, almost like a prayer, he was done.

Mishca shuddered as he came, still managing to hold his weight on his arms. He looked down at her with so much love and adoration shining in his eyes that she couldn’t help smiling back, though she was embarrassed that her legs were still trembling.

“Give me a minute, love.” He kissed her forehead, pulling out of her gingerly as he headed into the bathroom to dispose of the condom.

The water ran for a little bit before Mishca returned, holding a damp washcloth in hand. Lauren’s eyes widened as she shook her head adamantly.

“I can handle it.”

“Don’t be shy now,” he said dropping onto the bed, drawing the sheet back to expose her lower half.

“No, seriously I—”

He cut her off with a kiss, silencing any further argument she thought to give. She was too preoccupied with the way his lips moved over hers to pay attention to what he was doing between her legs. When he was done—taking one last trip to the bathroom—he came back, pulling her to his chest as he turned the lights off.

He kept his hand on her lower stomach, fanning his fingers out to cover more of her. His touch was hot, branding, and she loved every minute of it.

“Was it what you hoped?” He asked softly.

She yawned, surprised by how tired she was. “Better.”

Late into the night, long after Lauren had fallen asleep, Mishca was standing on the balcony, almost oblivious to the cooling temperature, thanks, in part, to the tumbler of whiskey he was drinking. For once, his mind was at ease, his thoughts not constantly focused on the work he had to do for the Bratva.

He relished the time he spent uninterrupted with Lauren. She made him feel whole, like he was more than his position in the organization…like he was more than his name. It was a feeling he hadn’t felt since his mother.

Looking up at the starlit sky, he narrowed his eyes on the flimsy line of light he saw across the sky, just barely there, but enough that he recognized what it was. With a smile, he walked back into the room, over to the bed where Lauren was still sleeping peacefully.

The sheet was wrapped around her, shielding her nudity, but doing nothing to hide the outline of her body beneath it. She looked so peaceful as she slept, but he knew she would love what he was about to show her, even if it meant she had to wake up for it.

“Lauren?”

He gently touched the curve of her hip as he called her name, unable to resist the temptation of curling his hand around her side, watching in satisfaction as she sighed, arching into his touch.

Yet, she still didn’t move.

Chuckling softly, he slipped an arm beneath her knees and another around her shoulders, easily lifting her into his arms. She gasped, immediately clinging onto him, wrapping her legs around his waist.

“Mish, what are you doing?” She whispered sleepily, burrowing her face in the curve of his neck.

“I want to show you something.”

Pushing open the French doors, he stepped out onto the balcony, laughing as Lauren cursed him, gripping him harder as though she could escape the cold.

“You have to turn around to see it,” he explained as he set her down, holding most of her weight up though her bare feet rested on his so they wouldn’t be on the cold concrete.

Keeping an arm wrapped around her waist, he used the other to point up and well past the water where a strip of green light was hovering in the atmosphere and if one were to look close enough, there would be distinct shades of blue in there as well.

She followed his direction, looking out. He could tell the moment she saw what he pointed to, her gasp of shock making him smile.

“I always sleep through it,” she said smiling up at him. “Is there anything you forget?”

Not when it came to her. If it took him the rest of his life to do it, he would give her everything she had ever asked of him, not because of the guilt, but because she deserved it and he wanted her to be happy with him.

She turned in his arms, her eyes warm and awake. “Thank you, Mish.”

Leaning forward, he pressed a quick kiss to her forehead. “
Diya vas v mire—For you, the world
.”

“Do you have everything?” Mishca asked as he shouldered their bags the next morning.

Lauren gave the room one more look over, checking in the bathroom and next to the bed for their phone chargers. Mishca headed down before her, going to give their ticket to the valet.

At the front counter, she retrieved her card from the clerk. Smiling, Lauren said, “Have a great day.”

As she was walking away, the clerk called, “Please tell Mr. Volkov his invoice will be sent to his email.”

Dammit Mishca.

Mishca was in an uncharacteristically good mood as he stood in a warehouse surrounded by large wooden crates, but it wasn’t the man standing across from him in all leather that had him rather calm in the middle of an arms deal.

Since Viktor had supplied most of the guns to their clientele, Mishca and Mikhail had split the list. Mishca had a few motorcycle clubs as well as businessmen looking for military grade weaponry. Mikhail’s were similar though his included men that were seen in the public eye and were more willing to work with someone of Mikhail’s age.

Mishca was happy that he finally had something to look forward to after he was done. He could never have imagined this, having someone that knew him, inside and out, and not just the parts he chose to show.

The gruff looking biker, along with a select number of his club, were perusing the automatic weapons Mishca had brought, testing them on dummies Mishca’s men had set up in the back.

They had only been doing business together for the last six months, and after a rocky start—mostly the president’s surprise at Mishca’s age, which never got old—things had gone steady since. There had been a few negotiations on the price when Mishca first approached them with the new deal, and Mishca were in their position, he might have tried to pull one over on someone as young as him, but Mishca wasn’t the average twenty-five-year old.

“Fifty thousand for the AK’s, ten for the handguns,” The Pres said holding up a duffle bag full of wrapped bundles of cash.

Nodding absently, Mishca signaled for Sergei to collect the money, distracted by his chiming cell phone.

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Since the hotel, Mishca had wanted Lauren around more, much to her joy. Her things were now split between the brownstone and Mishca’s apartment in the city. Realistically, she had nothing to complain about.

She—

“Well…I guess some things never change.”

Lauren dropped the shirt she was hanging, turning to face the girl that stood in the closet doorway.  In a skintight blue dress, she was beautiful with wavy blonde hair that was darker at the roots.

“Are you here for Mishca?” She asked, not knowing what else to say, her gaze focusing on the gold key dangling from a chain in her hand.

“Come up with that on your own, did you?”

Lauren frowned, watching her run manicured fingers through her blonde hair. “He isn’t here. How about you leave and call him?”

“It’s cute that you think you can tell me what to do.”

She had nails like claws, painted a deep maroon color that was only lightly lighter than the shade she wore on her lips.

“What’s your name, dear? He always loved little girls with common names.”

She had an accent, a stronger one of the version Alex had. Maybe she was French. Lauren didn’t doubt that Mishca had relations with the girl, not when she was acting proprietary though Lauren had never heard of her…not that she even knew what her name was.

“I don’t think my name matters. Who
are
you.”

The front door opened and closed, the sound carrying to the closet, but Lauren stood where she was, refusing to take her eyes off of her. She was secretly glad Mishca had come back early.

“Lauren?”

“In here.”

He appeared in the doorway some moments later, his gaze straying between two of them, his entire demeanor shifting as he focused on the girl.