Page 25 of Vasily the Hammer

I want what’s in his hands to fill. I want what he grabs to be firm and swollen because of him. I want my body to be reshaped by his.

I moan as I melt into him, my every sense overloaded, overwhelmed by him. It doesn’t matter who I am. Nothing matters except being his.

“Please, Vasily, please give me a baby!” I beg as I lose all control, not caring one bit as his hand goes around my neck and my head flops over his shoulder, as my oxygen dwindles and my vision sparkles and fades, as my muscles give out and I’m all but inviting him to impale me.

Vasily comes with a roar, surely loud enough that anyone else with an office on this floor will hear it, only to quiet down into soft grunts as he continues to rock into me, pushing his cum deep into me with each jerk of his cock.

He only releases my neck once he’s done unloading within me, but he keeps his hand stretched across my collarbone while I come back to Earth.

“I love you, Vasily,” I whisper again.

His eyes meet mine in the reflection, and despite the obvious lethargy and satisfaction, I swear there’s a mean glint in his eyes. But he says, “You’re mine, Ana. Forever,” so Imust be mistaking possession for meanness. And there’s no mistaking his pleasure when my pelvis rolls over his cock, still embedded within me, and cum starts to leak from my pussy, down his shaft, onto the hardwood floor between his feet.

Chapter 10

Vasily

When the doctorwho saw Ana at Consummate reviewed her medical file with me— her presumed husband and as close as they could get to HIPAA-authorized guardian in the absence of any legal paperwork— he mentioned that although the rape kit had come back negative, they’d done a full STD panel on her. This had also come back negative on all accounts. The one oddity was the way he said, “Obviously, we didn’t do a pregnancy test.”

I didn’t think too much on it in the moment. There’s a laundry list of reasons why one wouldn’t have been done. She was clearly not pregnant but of child-bearing age, so I just assumed there was some indication of birth control, something more visibly obvious than pills.

When I come inside her so hard I swear I’m walking as bowlegged as she is to the elevator, my balls screaming for a nap and an ice pack, I tell myself I was playing when I said I was going to get her pregnant. Fuck, I was fully expecting her to beg me to stop, but she really is as desperate for me to unload inside her every time as she was the first time we went through this.

I do my best to remain aloof with her when we get back to the apartment, but my body’s all loosey-goosey and refuses to listen to my brain when she follows me into the shower, scrubs me down, and then curls up half on top of me when I slump down on the giant sectional that replaced my sleek loveseat.

It’s a nice sofa. I don’t know who picked it out, but I’ll have to make sure they get a bonus. It’s a good height for me, not too low like a lot of them are. And it reclines at a nice angle, clearly meant for loafing as opposed to socializing. Really plush cushions that are great for sinking into.

These are not normal thoughts. I definitely came too hard.

I should be relieved that the doctor essentially told me she’s on some sort of birth control, but I find myself hunting for evidence of it. She’s in just my hoodie and her panties, and I sneak my hand up the back of the hoodie as she dozes next to me.

Up to her shoulder.

Down into her sleeve.

Brushing up and down her bicep. Up and down. Up and down.

She makes a happy sound and reaches up to trace my jaw with her fingers and my neck with her lips.

That arm is perfectly smooth.

I give myself a silent countdown, ticking down three minutes, feeling like that’s enough time before I free my hand to tip her headup and kiss her lips, probing her mouth with my tongue to get just a taste of her.

Nice, but I remember how she tasted after sucking her juice off my cock and then swallowing a load of my cum, when I spit in her mouth for good measure, and the way our tastes mingled together was even better.

I whisper, “Are you thirsty? Your show must have been quite the workout.”

Her make-up has thinned out some, much of it having been smeared on my office window, so I can see how much she pinks up at the reminder of what she did in my office for all the world to see. She nods shyly and sits patiently as I grab us both a bottle of water.

She gives me an inquisitive look when I sit on the opposite side of the sofa this time. Slightly put out, even. Sitting here puts a much bigger space between us.

I drag her back to my side and feel a thrill deep in my gut. Itdoesfeel good to hold Ana.

Maybe my bigfuck youto Tony, the never-ending thorn in my side, will be to keep her even after she gets her memory back, whether she wants to be kept or not.

As she drinks her water, I again slide my hand up her hoodie— my hoodie, but I’m already guessing that if I do keep her, the old thing will end up in her drawers— and around to her arm. Again, her arm is smooth. I don’t think she has an implant.

My heart dances in my chest. I should want her to be on birth control. Avoiding relationships in the last decade hasn’t just been about keeping women out of my family’s curse. It’s also been preventing an heir to my cursed throne. If I die, the only one left to take my spot is Kostya, who doesn’t have any kids either. Since I’ve ascended topakhan,it’s a trickier spot to hold, even if itwouldn’t bepakhanbut simplyavtoritetof Flagstaff. It will be an elevated, desirable spot now. To hold it, he’d have to enter with a massive display of power and brutality, a clear intention of also taking over my role aspakhan,or else he’ll be forever threatened by those who thinkavtoritetof Flagstaff is a fast track topakhan. Kostya probably wouldn’t want it. He’s always stuck to the shadows, and there are plenty of brigadiers and otheravtoritetswho will happily take the responsibility off his hands. He’ll be safer for it, too.

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