Maxim smirks at me before teasing my pussy with the tip of the barrel and slowly inserting it into me. I should be scared. The man has a loaded gun in my cunt that he used to blow someone’s brains out, but the only protest coming from my mouth is a moan and the words, “Fuck me harder.”
“That’s it, baby. Show me what a dirty slut you are. Fuck the gun. Such a pretty whore. My pretty whore,” Max encourages.
I push onto the gun like it’s a dick and ride it, desperate to come.
Mikhail’s spreading a tarp on the floor. Cindy’s body is slumped in the chair, the wall and floor surrounding her drenched in blood. I stare at the drops of red crimson dripping from her head as they hit the seat beside her. It’s a fucked up situation, getting fingered by a gun while staring at a dead body. But what’s even more fucked up is how turned on I am by the sight.
“Max, I think I’m gonna come.”
“Come all over my gun, like a good girl.”
As Mikhail lugs Cindy’s body on the tarp and her dead eyes face me, I come on Maxim’s gun, the same gun that launched a bullet straight through her head.
Chapter 12
MAXIM
Waking up with Samira in my arms is like a fuckin’ dream. Ten years ago, I had ripped my heart out of my damn chest. But now I’m fuckin’ whole.
Jesus, I sound like a pussy. The way I think about her is proof that I’m whipped. She thinks I want to possess her, but the reality is she owns me. I’d do anything for her. I’d even rip out my own fuckin’ heart and hand it to her if she asked me to. I can’t feel my arm, but I don't give a fuck. The fact she’s so damn comfortable makes me ten feet tall.
She shifts, placing her small hands on my chest and her lips brush against my shoulder as she sighs.
“You’re so fuckin’ lucky we installed those bullet-proof windows. We could’ve all drowned in the Atlantic,” Mikhail says, sitting across from me.
“Never say I don’t listen to you.”
Mikhail leans forward, his elbows on his knees. His face, covered by the plain white mask, makes him look deranged and mysterious. I don’t know why he insists on wearing that thing. “I called the cleaning crew in Moscow. They’ll take care of it when we land.”
“Max finally caught the prize at the end of the rainbow,” Alexie, my kid brother, slurs as he stumbles down the aisle toward us.
I put my finger to my mouth, gesturing for him to shut the fuck up. Samira’s sleeping like the dead, and with the night we had, I want her to get all the rest she needs.
Alexie takes a swig from a bottle of Greygoose, sloshing some liquid on a chair as he drops his arm to his side. “I could probably have a party here and she’d stay passed out. What the fuck did you do to her last night, Max? You sure you didn’t kill her with your dick?’
“Alexie, shut the fuck up before I do it permanently.”
Alexie puts his hand on his heart, feigning hurt feelings, something that he doesn’t have.
My brother is a complicated man, a good businessman, and a callous killer. Anyone who meets him thinks he’s a frat boy. He’s handsome, clean-cut, funny, and filthy rich, but the reality of my brother differs vastly from what the world sees.
If dark humor were a person, it would be Alexie. He’s twisted and morose and completely bent. He has two levels; a jester or a psychopathic murderer. Let me put it this way: I wouldn’t leave the twisted fuck alone with Samira. The only woman I ever trusted him with was Parisa. She seemed to calm him down when no one else could. Then, when she ended up with Ciaran, Alex got worse. It was so bad that we had to pay government officials in four countries to hide his activities.
Alex falls into a seat in front of us and lights a cigarette, taking a drag.
I glare at him. “You know you can’t smoke on planes anymore.”
Alex narrows his eyes. He points towards the body wrapped up in the tarp. “You can’t kidnap or kill on planes either, but that didn’t stop you.”
He has me there. “When are you gonna get your shit together? You act like a fuckin’ rockstar.”
“Rockstars don’t kill people, brother. I act like I am. A fuckin’ piece of shit monster.”
“You’re such a fuckin’ mess.”
Alexie barks a dry laugh. “A mess that saved your ass. You’re lucky I was in the States. Who knows if your lady would be breathing right now if not for Parisa and me.”
“Enough,” Mikhail snaps. “The two of you can bicker like bitches once we get shit done, but until then, keep your shit on the task at hand.” He rips the bottle of vodka from Alex’s hand. “You can stay sober for a day or two. After that, you can push all the powder up your nose and all the booze in your veins you want.” He turns his gaze to me. “Don’t get so wrapped up in pussy that you risk the lives of others. I know you love her. But I don’t, and I won’t let you risk the life of those I fuckin’ care about cos you can’t keep a level head with her.”