Page 11 of Mikhail Petrov

The edges of sharp blades pierce my skin as I wind the wire around his neck. Three, four, five times, squeezing harder with every twist until it’s embedded deep into his throat, and he’s no longer moving.

When I turn around, Leah stands still, eyes fixed on me. I can’t tell if she’s breathing or blinking.

“Did he hurt you?” My blood stains her skin when I frame her face.

Her head moves from side to side as if in slow motion. Pain cuts through me, and my chest grows heavy with anguish at her silence.

Is she in shock? Disgusted by the fact I can brutally kill another man in cold blood.

For her.

But a heartbeat later, she’s in my arms, lips crushed against mine. And that’s when I know my life has a purpose.

My phone vibrates with a message, confirming that my clean-up crew has cleared the scene and removed Javier’s body.

I tighten the towel around my waist as I move through my kitchen, chugging a bottle of water, when the doorbell rings, catching me off guard. When I pull up the footage on my phone, I see Leah standing at my front entrance, nervously tucking loose strands of hair behind her ear.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming? I would have picked you up or been on alert. It’s late.”

“I’m sorry. I couldn’t sleep. I needed to see you.”

I pull her into a tight hug. “What’s on your mind, pretty girl?”

She looks up at me and offers a frail smile. “I need to know if this is real. You killed for me,

Mikhail. And I want you to know that I would kill for you, too.”

“I’d never ask you to do that.”

Leah backs out of my arms and lifts her shirt above her head. “You wouldn’t have to.” She isn’t wearing a bra, and when she drops her sweatpants, I learn she left her panties at home as well. My eyes rake over every beautiful inch of her.

“Are you sure?” I ask, dropping kisses onto her shoulder.

“I wouldn’t be naked in your living room if I wasn’t.”

Leah is nineteen. I’m twenty-seven. While she’s a full-fledged adult, there are still eight years between us and our experiences.

“I’m not a virgin, Mikhail. You don’t need to be gentle or feel weird,” she assures me,

possibly sensing my hesitancy.

“Who do I need to kill?” I chuckle against her lips.

Leah remains silent, a severe expression creasing her brow despite my joke. “I already killed him.”

I won’t lie; her confession shocks me for a moment. But I’m curious more than anything. “I’m listening.”

She huffs a breath and averts her gaze. “He took a video without my consent. And he threatened to post it online and make it go viral if I didn’t sleep with his friends and whoever else was willing to pay. He deserved it, Mikhail. And I don’t regret it.”

If he weren’t already dead, I’d be booking a flight to New York.

Lifting her chin, I bring her gaze back to mine and smile. “Good girl.”

It’s all the reassurance she needs. Leah unties the towel at my waist and strokes my cock. “I always knew your dick was perfect. It’s going to hurt like a bitch, but I’m up for the challenge.” She drops to her knees and takes me into her mouth. Slow licks and sucks at first until it’s wet enough for her to slide to the back of her throat as far as she can.

“Fuck,” I growl, closing my eyes and gripping her bun in a fist. I slam her down until she gags and pulls back, taking a short breath before she swallows me again. “My pretty girl, look at you, taking my cock so goddamn deep, like it was made for your throat.”

Leah grips my ass and pushes to the limit as tears streak down her cheeks.

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