Chapter 88 One month with the Mafia boss: Day one
11:47pm
The penthouse was a cathedral of black marble and glass, seventy-three floors above the city that already felt like another planet.
Kazimir didn’t speak on the ride up. He simply kept one possessive hand on the back of Nyra’s neck, thumb stroking the hollow beneath her hairline like he was gentling a wild animal he intended to break.
The elevator opened directly into the apartment.
No foyer.
No pretense.
Just darkness and the distant glow of the skyline bleeding through floor-to-ceiling windows.
He shrugged out of his jacket, tossed it aside.
Rolled his sleeves to the elbow, revealing ink that crawled from wrist to shoulder, Orthodox crosses, stars, a snarling wolf mid-leap. Then he turned to her.
“Strip.”
One word.
Nyra’s fingers found the thin straps of her satin slip.
She let it slide down her body and pool at her feet.
Nothing underneath.
Gooseflesh rose across her skin under the air-conditioning and his stare.
Kazimir circled her slowly, predator sizing up prey.
When he stopped behind her, his breath ghosted over the nape of her neck.
“Hands behind your back.”
She obeyed.
Cold metal kissed her wrists, handcuffs, real ones, the kind that left bruises.
He tightened them until she hissed.
“Good.”
He walked away.
She heard the clink of ice, the pour of liquor.
When he came back, he held a crystal tumbler of something amber.
He drank, eyes never leaving her naked body.
Then he set the glass down and unbuckled his belt again.
This time he pulled it free of the loops with a slow, deliberate hiss of leather.
Nyra’s breath caught.
He folded the belt once and snapped it against his palm.
The sound cracked through the room like a gunshot.
“The safe word is ‘red.’ You say it, everything stops. You don’t say it, I don’t stop. Understand?”
“Yes.”
He was on her in a heartbeat. The belt looped around her throat like a collar, pulled just tight enough that every breath reminded her who owned the air in her lungs.
He marched her forward until her belly met the cold glass of the window.
The city glittered below, tiny and meaningless.
“Hands on the glass. Spread your legs.”
She did.
The cuffs bit into her wrists. Her nipples hardened against the chill.
Kazimir kicked her feet wider. Then nothing, just the weight of his stare on her exposed cunt, dripping from the club, still swollen from the way he had used her earlier.
The first lash of the belt landed across her ass, sharp, perfect fire. She cried out, arching.
He didn’t soothe. He struck again, lower, catching the tender spot where thigh met cheek.
Again and again until her skin blazed crimson and tears pricked her eyes and her pussy throbbed in time with every blow.
Only then did he drop the belt.
His hands gripped her hot, punished flesh, and spread her open.
She felt his tongue hot, wet, merciless drag from her clit to her asshole in one long, filthy lick.
Nyra sobbed, pushing back shamelessly.
He ate her like a starving man, tongue fucking into her cunt, nose buried against her, growling at the taste of her.
Two fingers shoved into her without warning, curling hard, scissoring until she was shaking, on the verge of coming just from this.
He stopped.
“No,” she whimpered.
Kazimir stood, pressed the length of his clothed body against her naked back, letting her feel how hard he was.
“You come when I say so not before.”
He spun her, shoved her down to her knees on the marble.
The cuffs forced her shoulders back, breasts thrust forward.
He unzipped, pulled out his cock thick, flushed and hard.
He moved his cock into her mouth slowly this time, savoring the way her lips stretched around him.
When he hit the back of her throat, he held there, watching her eyes water.
“Breathe through your nose, kotyonok. You’re going to learn to take all of me.”
He fucked her face with long, controlled strokes, one hand fisted in her hair, the other wrapped around her throat so he could feel himself moving inside her.
Every time she gagged, he pulled out just enough to let her gasp, then pushed deeper.
When her mascara ran in black rivers down her cheeks, he finally hauled her up by the cuffs and threw her over the back of the leather sofa.
Her toes barely touched the floor.
He entered her in one brutal thrust, no warning, no mercy.
The angle was perfect, deep, punishing. She screamed into the cushions.
Kazimir set a relentless pace, hips slamming against her welted ass, reigniting every stripe of pain into white-hot pleasure.
One hand snaked beneath her to pinch and twist her clit, the other yanked her head back by the hair so he could growl into her ear.
“This cunt is mine for thirty days. Every orgasm. Every scream. Every drop of come that drips out of you belongs to me.”
He fucked her until her voice broke, until she came so hard her vision whited out, until her legs gave and he held her impaled on his cock like a trophy.
Only then did he pull out, spin her again, and shove her to the floor.
“On your back. Legs open.”
She collapsed, trembling. He straddled her chest, cock slick with her juices, and jerked himself hard and fast.
“Look at me.”
Her eyes locked on his as the first rope of come painted her throat, her chin, her parted lips.
When he finished, he leaned down, dragged two fingers through the mess, and pushed them into her mouth.
“Swallow.”
She did.
He uncuffed her, massaged the red marks on her wrists with surprising gentleness, then scooped her up and carried her through the penthouse to the bedroom.
The bed was massive, black silk sheets already turned down.
He laid her in the center, climbed in after her, and pulled her back against his chest.
One arm locked around her waist, the other cupped her sore pussy possessively.
“Sleep,” he murmured against her neck.
“In three hours I’m waking you up with my cock in your ass. Then again with my mouth on your cunt. Then again with you riding my face until you cry. Day one isn’t over until the sun is high and you can’t walk.”
His fingers slid lazily through her folds, teasing, never quite enough.
Nyra’s eyes fluttered shut, body already aching, already ruined, already desperate for more.
Somewhere outside, the city kept spinning.
Inside, the first day had only just begun.