Dirty Hearts: Interracial Russian Mafia Romance

Seconds later, plates clinked. Our servers must’ve been placing our food on the table. Kazimir and I were so bad with our public displays of affection. I always felt horrible for our cooking staff, constantly finding us humping against the dinner table and tonguing each other down between courses.

I pulled away and he groaned.

“Come back, mysh.”

“Really, Kazimir?”

“What?”

“Your sexual appetite is insane. I love it, but—”

“I can’t help it.”

I shook my head. “Oh, really?”

“There isn’t a mating season for lions, but when there’s plenty of food and the lion’s power has been solidified among the pride, the mating is more likely to occur.”

“Oh okay.” I grinned. “That explains everything. Anything else I should know about lions?”

He nodded as the server laid a huge dish topped with roasted meats and a heavy sauce dripping over it on the table. “When the female is ready, she’ll mate with the male more than twenty times per day. They may not even eat.”

“This is why we’ve missed so many meals?”

“Exactly. But we should eat now for strength. More mating will come.”

Mating.

I wasn’t sure if this was what people talked about in the first few months of their relationship. We’d just truly begun defining ourselves, but Kazimir would give our relationship more meaning.

“And you think it’s safe now…to mate?” I asked.

“Safe enough to move forward with us. Safe enough to consider the fact that you may be pregnant and we should discuss it.”

Dear God. I don’t want to deal with that again.

He’d been tossing out the pregnancy word like it wasn’t a big topic. For me, it was something I’d never considered.

I turned my attention to my plate. “I just need time before talking about…mating.”

“And if you’re pregnant now?”

“We haven’t been using condoms. Perhaps, we can just…use condoms from now on.”

He tenderly grabbed my arm and leaned closer to me. “What’s the timeframe on these condoms? I like fucking you raw. Nothing compares to it.”

“Maybe if you stopped coming inside me—”

“It’s hard to pull out with you.”

And then, in the end, I never wanted him to pull out. I bit my lip as he continued. “I also rather like filling you with cum. It’s become my new pastime hobby. I like to watch it spill out of your pussy right after I pull out.”

My nipples hardened.

He rested his hand on mine and studied me. “However…”

Neither of us had touched the food on our plates. My heart beat faster. I wasn’t sure I could handle any more of what Kazimir had to discuss. Everything moved so fast. Months ago, I didn’t even know his name. Now I sat in yet another country with him, my third country in a few weeks, and he’d taken over every part of my life.

He squeezed my hand and had the nerve to give me an innocent look. “Am I moving too fast?”

I had several sarcastic things to say, but now wasn’t the time for that. There was one thing I had to be truthful about and admit. “Kazimir, I think I would be nervous at any pace.”

“Then, let me guide us through it.”

I squeezed his hand. “I don’t want to make any mistakes.”

“The best part of life is the mistakes.”

I would be a shitty mother. What if I black out and kill him or her? What if I harm them in some other way?

Instead, I whispered, “Still…”

“We have control. Our lives are in our hands. This world is resting in our fingers. There is nothing we can’t do.”

I moved my hand away. “But do you want to rule the world, or do you want to have…a family?”

“I want both.” He grabbed my hand again and slipped his finger along my thumb. “And I want both with you.”

“That’s the lesson too?”

“It is.”

“Can we have both?” I asked.

“I don’t know. This will also be a lesson for me.”

I sighed. “I trust you.”

“Then, let’s eat.” He squeezed my hand again and released it.

Our conversations lingered on learning about each other.

We needed these moments together, far away from Russia and everyone else.

Kazimir was right. We’d already dedicated our lives together. We’d killed and plotted together. But never had we gone out and sat down on a date together.

We slipped into a smooth conversation, learning more about our lives. He told me about his times as a kid, running the streets like a hooligan with Pavel, Zahkar, and Abraham. He even talked about his childhood memories of Misha and Valentina arguing daily when they all lived together temporarily.

When he brought up Sasha, a question popped in my head. “When was the first time you learned that Sasha was gay? Did he come to tell you?”

“No. Misha told me.”

“How did Misha know?”

“I didn’t ask.” Kazimir shook his head and wiped his mouth with a cloth napkin. “It was too uncomfortable the way Misha told me. It was like he had something to confess also.”