Page 40 of The Stowaway

He smiled and put his hands on my stomach before he bent down and kissed me thoroughly. I put my hands on his shoulders and held onto him. When he pulled back, I put my hands on his cheeks and kissed his damp lips. It didn't matter what my mother said. I loved him, and this handsome, crazy man was obsessed with me.

“No, Kitten, she is going to be locked away in a very special high-security psychiatric facility. You won't ever see her again, but she will be seeing you every day.”

I ignored my mother’s screeching. Nothing she said was pertinent to my life. Ivan yanked me closer to him until my stomach was squashed between us. He peppered my neck with kisses.

“If you want to see the footage of her first week coming off the heroin, I can put it on for you. I enjoyed watching her suffer,” he whispered into my ear.

A shiver ran down my back.

“No, let’s get back to bed. I want to thank you properly,” I said as I slipped my hand between us to grab his cock.

His eyes darkened, and his hands slid down my asscheeks.

“Moya koroleva,” he murmured. My queen.

“Moy korol,” I whispered back as I rubbed his hard cock.

He was my king and so much more.

Chapter 17

Ivan

After that morning, Amelia told me many stories from childhood to adulthood, and I understood why she had taken my method of revenge so well. I’d barely restrained myself from slapping that hateful woman after spending a few minutes in her company. She got shipped to an obscure asylum in Russia. The room she had in the shed would be the last ‘luxury’ she would ever see.

I never told Amelia that I had made the Garrisons eat their own testicles. Once I had extracted all the information from them, I’d cut their tongues out. I used them as punching bags for most of my visits until their eyes begged for death. My wife knew about my family history and the illicit side of my business. I felt at peace knowing she accepted every part of me.

“Why are you in here brooding?”

I glanced up towards Amelia’s voice as she walked into the library.

“I’m contemplating.”

“About?” she asked as walked towards me.

I pulled her onto my lap.

“Why our baby is tormenting us.”

She grinned, slipped her legs over mine and wrapped her arms around my neck. When I glanced down, her breasts were squashed up against my body.

The baby was two days late, clinging onto its mother, when we were so eager to meet him or her. I sighed and put one hand around her back and the other over her large belly. She rarely complained, saying she would miss the baby being inside of her even though she was as excited as me to meet him or her. I assured her that her womb wouldn't be empty for long.

She ran her hand through the top of my hair. As she swung her feet, my eyes caught her custom-designed diamond anklet. I loved seeing my merchandise draped on her. My hand lifted her dress up, and I caressed her legs.

“I think I should fuck you again. It might induce labour,” I said, feeling my dick stir under her ass.

She opened her legs, and I slid my hand towards her hot pussy. She moved her mouth towards me, but she didn't kiss me. She licked my earlobe with the tip of her tongue.

“You close the door, and I will bend over the desk,” she whispered.

“My dirty little Kitten,” I said huskily and carefully slid her off my lap before I went to lock the door.

∞∞∞

This is how my son Lev Ivanovich Maslow came into the world. He was named after my dedushka since it was my grandfather who started our family tradition of locking our women down, and he’d walked Amelia down the aisle on our wedding day.

“Oh, look at him, Ivan, isn't he perfect?” Amelia said without looking at me.

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