Page 32 of Luka

“Tell me you like it,” Tall demands, his hot breath pelting me as he plunges himself to my ear. “Tell me you love my cock.”

“No,” I say without hesitation. It doesn’t strike me until the word is out of my mouth that I’ve forgotten to be afraid. I tense at the realization.

His hand wraps around my throat, prompting me to look at him with wide eyes filling with trepidation.

“Say it,” he demands, his eyes crazed as his hips move, bringing us both pleasure even with the looming threat.

I don’t speak. I don’t move. And Tall’s hand doesn’t squeeze. He just stays there, our eyes locked, and it’s a solid minute before I realize he no longer appears threatening. Just intense. Aroused. Deep in the trenches of lust. Even with this knowledge, I can’t look away, like he’s mesmerizing me somehow.

He kisses me as he comes, a brutal kiss against my firm, dispassionate lips.

His hips move a couple more times before he grunts, stills, then pulls away, breathing heavily. He rolls off of me, and we lay there for several minutes, neither of us saying anything.

The shame doesn’t slam onto me as much as it settles little by little. Tiny weights taking their turn piling atop my naked body versus an elephant plopping down on top of me. But they add up. And soon, it’s hard to breathe.

“It’s too bad we don’t have more time, Peach,” Tall finally says. “I promise, I could’ve made you say it.”

My mind fogs as his words try to register. I’m not sure how to make sense of them, but I try. For several minutes, I try. Just as Tall sits up, I speak before I lose my chance.

“You get to keep me as long as you want. Why would you suggest our time is limited?”

Tall looks over his shoulder at me from the edge of the bed, a lopsided grin on his face. He almost looks playful or mocking like before, but not quite. There’s unease to it, like he’s unsettled by something.

“I guess you should’ve taken me up on my offer earlier, huh? Then you’d know.”

He winks when I frown and stands before retrieving the same gag he used for me earlier... My discarded panties.

“Luka, no,” I beg, tucking my face into my arm. “Please. I won’t scream.”

“Wish I could trust ya, Peach, but…” He grips my jaw and forces my head forward while I whimper. “I don’t trust anyone.”

He forces my mouth open and shoves the panties inside. Ignoring my muffled pleas, he gets dressed and heads downstairs while I’m left with the certainty that what Luka just said is true. He doesn’t trust anyone. Love anyone. Care for anyone. That’s the only thing that could explain a person as cold as him.

I just hope that isn’t true for Arseni.

9

LUKA

Sweat rolls down my neck as I lift my head to the sky, my eyes closing so the sun directly above my head doesn’t scorch them.

“I always thought he was gay.”

I turn to Arseni just as he puffs on a cigarette, innocently peering at me beneath long lashes that belong more on a girl. When he blows out the smoke, it stutters with his laugh.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asks.

“You think Nikita Petrov is gay?”

Arseni shrugs. “You know any other straight dudes who garden as much as he does?”

I consider it.

“You know what,” Arseni snaps his fingers several times as he takes another drag of his cigarette. He seems to be trying to recall something, and as soon as it solidifies in his mind, his eyes brighten. “The villain from The Hunger Games. That guy gardened like a motherfucker.”

I shake my head and look toward the gate of the Petrov mansion, my machine gun lazily leaned against my shoulder as I balance the handle in my palm. Arseni isn’t even holding his. He’s using it as a makeshift cane, his hand curled over the barrelwhile he leans against it. I wouldn’t be surprised if it wasn’t loaded.

You can tell how seriously we take our jobs as guards of this estate. Now that Nikita Petrov is no longer Pakhan, at least. He’s been dethroned for months now, but it’s still all anyone seems to talk about.

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