Page 60 of Ruthless Lullaby

“Ma… Maron!” she cries out. I give her all I have.

“Blyad, lisichka,” I roar as I hold myself deep. I want to see her face when she comes, so I continue until she is screaming and bucking uncontrollably like a wild animal, her juices spilling my erection over. I know she’s at her peak, but I don’t slow my pace. I keep going until her walls clench around my cock so intensely that I can’t contain myself any longer. After a few more animalistic thrusts, I release into her. My cum spills hot into her tight pussy as we both explode into what feels like a supernova. She spasms and screams as her orgasm continues to tear through her. Her body continues to shake, her juices continue to spill, making my cock drenched in her warm, sticky cum.

I collapse on her panting, laying on top of her until the shaking of her thighs gradually begin to fade. We both lay therespent for several minutes like a couple of used up-ragdolls, waiting for our bodies to cool down from the high.

Boyhe Moy!

I can’t believe I just had the orgasm of my fucking life. Yeah, she’s definitely gotten under my skin.

Even more so than I could have imagined. Or ever thought possible for me.

Which is a fucking dangerous territory for a man like me.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Maron

"You fucking disappointed me, Korolev. We had an arrangement and you fucking disappointed me."

I’m sitting across from Leonid Shirkov, the powerful Russian media mogul. The air in the lavish conference room feels heavy and suffocating, and the tension between us almost is tangible. I can practically feel his calculating gaze burning me as we engage in a high-stakes game of negotiation. Every word he speaks feels like a loaded gun pointed directly at me.

My mind flashes back to the first time I met Shirkov. We were at a Bratva gathering, over a decade ago. I was still green, barely out of my father's shadow, when he approached me with that same calculating gaze he wears now.

"So, you're Korolev’s boy," he'd said, his voice dripping with disdain. "Let's hope you're smarter than your old man was."

I didn't fully understand what he meant back then.

Now I do.

It doesn't help that he's right. I'd promised him a delivery, a kidney to save her daughter’s life, hoping it would end the conflict brewing between our families since my father’s time. Then, my ship hit a fucking iceberg, and the kidney ended up in the bottom of the ocean along with my Tramoxine samples. And in the midst of the fuckery that is called my life, I haven'tbeen able to find a solution yet. I've been juggling too many things at once: training Maurice to take over the organ business, running Global Media, preparing for the launch of Tramoxine, and dealing with my mother's illness.

And then, being preoccupied with Mindy.

The power of pussy, my father would say.

I lean back in my seat, leaving my expression cold and neutral, "It was Vis Maior, Leonid. Our ship hit an iceberg. I'm arranging for a new kidney for your daughter as we speak. And," I add, "you'll get a discount. I’m covering thirty percent of the cost. Best I can do."

I feel a flicker of sympathy for the man's plight, but I quickly smother it. In this world, sympathy is a weakness, and weakness is a luxury no one in the Bratva can afford.

Shirkov doesn’t seem too pleased with my offer. He slams his fist on the table, causing the glasses to rattle on the hard, wooden desk stretching between us. "I don't give a shit about your excuses, or your discount, Korolev. My daughter is fucking dying, you understand? She needs that kidney!"

My daughter is dying.

Hearing this triggers something deep within me. My mind immediately drifts back to my own late daughter, Cordelia. It guts me to even think about the moment I lost her. Even as I sit here with a man as rich and powerful as Shirkov, I can't help but feel a twinge of sympathy for him. He's a heartless motherfucker, a cold-blooded murderer who wouldn't hesitate to put a bullet in my head if that served his purpose. And yet, I can understand his pain, his fear of losing his daughter.

"I get why you’re frustrated, Shirkov,” I tell him, keeping my voice calm and even. “We both want the same thing. Get that kidney to your daughter. But we need time. Suitable organs don't just magically appear."

Shirkov scoffs and leans in closer, locking eyes with mine. "Well, guess what, Korolev. Jennifer doesn't have the luxury of time. And neither do you." He emphasizes each word with a sharp nod.

I raise an eyebrow, keeping my expression impassive. "Is that a threat?"

He bares his teeth in a humorless smirk. "Call it a promise." He rises from his seat, looming over me. "You and I both know that this goes beyond a mere organ." His voice isthreateningly calm. I remain silent, knowing well that he is right, and fucking hating it. But there's no escaping the situation. My cargo sunk, and now, I have to face the music. “Let's get one thing straight,” he continues. “This is your one chance to settle the conflict between our families. Fuck this up, and there will be no peace.” He slams his fist on the table. "If my daughter dies because of your fucking incompetence, I will tear your family to shreds until there is no one left."

I inhale a deep breath through my nose in an attempt to control my rising anger. I could kill the old fucker where he stands if I wanted. Slice his throat or put a bullet in his skull. But where would that get me? Fucking nowhere. His other family members would come after my family and we’d end up in a fucking war all over again where all bets are off. I can’t allow that to happen. Not when I have a sick mother to take care of.

"Let me guess," I say, my voice deceptively soft. "You’ll start by putting a bullet in my head first?"

"No, I won’t.” Shirkov chuckles, a dark, mirthless sound. “First, I’ll make you watch as I destroy everything you hold dear. Your businesses, and your loved ones."

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