Gavriil (Stepanov Mafia)

My thumb flicked across her and drew circles wildly until her breathing grew heavy and labored. And then, she fell, her body pulsing around me. Her stomach clenched, her legs tightened. Her entire body went rigid for a second before she collapsed down into my arms. I could barely hold her weight because I was falling too. I didn’t think I’d ever climaxed at the same time as the person I was with before, and it was a unique experience. Both of us were clawing and arching and angling, trying to give our bodies relief from the overwhelming wash of pleasure.

And then, we were done.

I slipped out of her and padded out of the room naked, leaving her alone in my bedroom.

When I returned a few minutes later, she was partly dressed and standing at the end of the bed, unsure what to do. I tossed her a bottle of painkillers.

Her hand drifted absently to her ass, and I nodded. I’d noticed the red marks across her skin as soon as I’d walked in the room, and I knew I’d just added several new welts as well. She was bound to be sore.

***

Samantha

I went to the bathroom as soon as I got to my room and popped the pain reliever in my mouth, drinking water straight from the tap to wash the pills down. My body was so sore. But then, underneath the surface level pain, there was an excitement I couldn’t understand. A longing I’d never felt before. It hurt, but I wanted more. Gavril scared me, but he had also turned something on inside of me that I never knew was there.

The necklace around my neck caught the vanity lights, and I couldn’t believe I’d almost forgot it was around my neck. There was no doubt in my mind that the diamonds were real, and that Gavril had spent a fortune on it. Probably close to the same amount he was asking for from my brother.

I had to wonder why he’d made such a big deal about the money if he had so much to spare. His house was a modern mansion with plush furniture and steel details. He was clearly very rich. So, it had to be all about pride. Or his reputation. The actual money meant nothing to him. Did that mean I meant nothing too?

The thought felt like a punch to the chest, knocking the wind from me for a second, though I couldn’t say why. Feeling too exhausted to dig into the strange emotions, I slipped into the silk nightgown that had been delivered to my room earlier in the day and then crawled under the sheets of the bed. My doorway was free of a guard – Gavril must have kept his promise to get rid of the man who had been making me uncomfortable – so I pulled my phone out of the bedside table and called my brother.

Surprisingly, he answered on the first ring.

“Where are you?” His voice sounded garbled like his tongue was swollen.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“Barely,” he mumbled. “Gavril had his men beat the shit out of me today. I feel like garbage so it would be nice if you were here to take care of things. Where are you?”

“I’m okay,” I said, answering a question he hadn’t asked. Apparently, he was only concerned about me when my absence inconvenienced him. “Where are you? At home or the hospital?”

“I’m at home. I told Mom I was jumped during an attempted carjacking. She keeps asking me where you are though. We both agree I should probably be in the hospital right now.”

There had been so much going on in the past two days that I hadn’t thought as much about my mom as I probably should have. And honestly, I hadn’t wanted to think about her. There was nothing I could do to change anything, so worrying about her all day and night would only have made me sick.

But a large burden lifted when I realized Devin was at home taking care of things for once. It also felt nice that he was getting a small taste of what I’d dealt with for the past few years. He was always disappearing without telling anyone where he would be, leaving us in the lurch until he deigned to come home and make an appearance.

“Good call. Mom definitely shouldn’t know anything about your connections with the mob,” I said.

“Samantha,” Devin said loudly, annunciating every syllable. “Where are you?”

I took a deep breath, debating whether to lie or tell him the truth. In the end, I decided on the truth.

“Gavril Stepanov’s house.”

There was a long pause. So long, in fact, that I wondered whether Devin hadn’t hung up on me or whether the call hadn’t dropped. Then, he finally spoke.

“No, you’re not.”

“Yes, I am.”