Page 68 of Vasily the Nail

I prop myself up on my elbows to see better the way his cock slides up and down my folds, his cum and mine both smeared over it, gathering at the capture balls in a slick foam. “For you. Only for you.”

Finally, he caves and takes hold of his shaft, sinking it into me and thrusting deep. Once his hand is back on my hip, he leans just enough that he can work me slowly with shallow motions. Balanced the way I am, I can’t touch him unless I lower myself to the ground, and his other hand still holds that damn camera, which seemed like a great idea until this moment. I was digging it, whatever that says about me, but now I want more contact and can’t have it.

“Vasya,” I whine again, giving him my saddest pout and biggest eyes. “More.”

He chuckles darkly and pivots the camera back up. “You see this, yes? You see she crave. She want this. But she is viper.Uses her bottom lip and her eyelashes to lure. Will you bite me,zvyozdochka?”

I bite that bottom lip he calls a trap instead because yeah, I kind of do want a nibble.

“Da, you hypnotize. Just like viper.”

He sets the camera down none too gently, the gadget bouncing on the mat but landing the right way to still catch us. He’s already over me by then, and yep, the moment he leans close enough, I snap right up to sink my teeth into him. I aim for the earlobe, that way our chests are forced together. I’m not trying to manipulate Vasily, I just need him touching me everywhere right now, and that gets him there. Once he’s lying on top of me, the façade slips away and he starts riding me hard enough that I have to dig both my teeth and my nails in.

“That’s it,” he groans as my vision goes white and I toss my head back with the force of my orgasm. He doesn’t let up for a second, which is perfect because I don’t want him to. I’m happy screaming his name and whatever other gibberish spills out of my mouth.

Especially when Vasily finally gets physically rough. He grabs my throat again, along with my knee, drawing it up high to split me wide open for him to fuck into mercilessly. My eyes flutter open, and although it’s hard for me to focus, I’m able to see the computer monitor from here. The feeds from all three cameras play, and the two that were staged in advance are decent, but the one that’s been tossed to the side, with its sloppy angle and slight tilt, shows off the heavy cords of muscle all along Vasily’s body and the glistening of sweat coating his skin.

Oh God.

Holy hell.

Watching that has me breaking all over again.

Vasily seems to get it, coming with a roar before finally relaxing back down to smother me as he fills me with cum and licks my neck.

“You are mine now,” he rumbles against my ear. “Your body, mine.”

Day 12

Vasily

Artyom’s favorite placeto broker deals is a private table at the local hibachi grill. He likes it to be public in the sense that the restaurant itself is public and there’s no way out without walking through the main dining area, so it’s hard to get away with literal murder. He also likes that the chef and a server are right there with us, and while yes, they are fully aware that they need to keep their mouths shut and are paid well for their silence, they’re still bearing witness.

Plus, it adds a dramatic flair. The chef loves his onion volcanos, and although Artyom has never admitted to it, I’m positive he’s got some signal he gives the chef when he wants oil tossed onto the grill to catch fire. Artyom was always the dramatic one.

Artyom allows me a morning off after the second video, which surprises me. Artyom isn’t one to hold back. When he’s angry, he doesn’t stew on it. He doesn’t let it build or form into some sort of cold revenge. He may wait to act if he thinks he needs to consider further, but that’s a good thing. The fact that I’m not called to his side until late in the day doesn’t have me worried he’s going to suddenly slam the side of my face into the grill or anything— I’ve seen that happen— although I am unsettled that he’s letting what Ana and I did last night slide.

I am the first to arrive. Kostya picked me up, and he’s a punctual person. If we’re ever late to the party, I’m to blame. So I don’t think too much of it until Artyom gestures for me to sit next to him. That’s strange. As we can speak both Russian and Finnish still from our mother, we can have secret conversations with each other from across the room. When we’re meeting with other families, Artyom generally has me sit opposite him for 360-degree coverage.

Despite the blasé look on his face, I’m tense as I take my seat, concerned that Artyom might be ready to attack.

Instead, he says, “I like Analiese.”

That’s it, that’s all he says before going quiet again.

I give him long enough to complete his thought before replying with a hesitant, “She’s a good girl. Woman.”

Artyom’s face breaks into a smile at that. “Yes. She’s young, but she’s clever. Mature. More reasonable than I expected when her brother threw her at me like garbage to take out. She’s good for you.”

I nod but hedge my words. “We get along.” I don’t like where this is going. I know we’re meeting with other families tonight, working out a negotiation to settle the recent skirmishes to prevent further bloodshed— well, unsanctioned bloodshed; we must still be compensated somehow for what happened to Alex— but I’m not sure which families.

Artyom sounds very much like Ana is going to end up being compensation in some way.

I’m still struggling about what the best option is for Ana, but the one thing I’m positive about is she is no man’s property. Yes,I said some things last night going against that, and yes, I meant them, but in the light of day?

The important thing is I made it clear no one else has the right to claim her. No one else has the right to bargain with her body.

He chuckles dryly. “Ohhh, calm yourself. I’m not plotting anything terrible. I just need to know what you’re thinking right now.”

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