The Fixer (Chicago Bratva 2)

He groans, fisting the sheets by his side.

Encouraged, I bob my head up and down over his straining member, listening to his breath grow ragged.

“That’s it, sugar,” he rumbles, gripping the back of my head and encouraging me to take him deeper.

He’s back in command, but I keep showing off, suddenly rather desperate to show him I know what I’m doing. I give him my very best blow-job—and sucking men off is a skill I’ve developed well.

I massage his balls and his prostate with one hand while the other fist glides up and down over his cock to make up for the length I can’t fit in my mouth. I swirl my tongue around, I suck hard. I alternate quick, short bobs over the head with taking him long and deep, into the pocket of my cheek and sometimes into the back of my throat.

His thighs flex beneath me, his groans of my name grow more frequent. His fist tangles in my hair, pulling at my scalp.

It’s disrespectful—no man’s ever done it to me before, and I half-hate it. But I half-love it, too. It’s so Maxim—everything he is. Aggressive, bossy, confident. I’m turned on by it—more turned on than I’ve ever been giving a man pleasure before. Way more.

I work his cock like I want to please. I don’t know if I’m trying to prove something or if I really do need to please the man. All I know is I suck so hard my jaw aches, and I don’t stop, even when my eyes water from him hitting the back of my throat.

“Fuck, Sasha, fuck,” he growls. “I’m going to come.”

I don’t pop off. I swallow like a good girl. I lick him clean, and then I sit back on his thighs and wipe my mouth, watching him watching me.

“Sugar.” He reaches for me, but I dismount from the bed and walk to the bathroom, letting my hips sway to show off my bare ass. I shut the door and start the shower, my heart pounding.

Shit. I’m so in over my head. My body is all hot and needy. I’ve never wanted to have sex so badly in my life. Part of me wishes I’d let Maxim pull me down beside him and do whatever it is he wanted to with me.

But there’s another part of me freaking out.

Freaking the fuck out.

I don’t even know what I’m freaking out about. I step into the shower and wash everywhere, like the soap and shampoo will somehow cleanse me of this gnawing anxiety.

And that’s when it hits me: I can’t do this with Maxim.

It’s way too scary. Because if he doesn’t hate me, if I stop refusing to sleep with him…

Then we’re something else. We’re my parents—the bratva boss and his woman.

I’m his wife not his mistress, but it’s no different. Maxim is just like my father. And me? The very heart of me?

I fear I could be just as pathetic as my mother.

What if I’m as needy as she was? Waiting around for her man to throw her the scraps of his attention. Being at the ready to perform for him, to please him, from the moment he walked in the door until the moment he walked right back out. Her job was to look beautiful, satisfy him in bed and obey his orders.

She played the role to perfection, and he still didn’t leave her with a dime. He literally gave her to his right-hand man, like she was a possession to be handed down.

Just like he gave me to Maxim.

So I’m not going to be like her. End of story. I’m not going to fall for Maxim and throw myself at his feet and wait for his scraps of attention. I will figure out how to live with him without losing my heart.

I turn the water off and climb out of the shower, taking my time drying off. I don’t want to open the door and come out of the bathroom. I don’t know if I’m ready to see Maxim—I’m not sure if I’ve steeled my heart enough. I hold the knob and lean my head against the door, heart thumping. But when I finally brace myself and open it, I find him asleep. The orgasm must’ve relaxed him back into slumber.

I tiptoe through the room and put on my travel clothes from yesterday and gather up my things. I know I can’t run far. I know he’ll find me immediately, whether it’s a matter of minutes or hours. But I have to run.

I pick up my purse and open the door.

“One more step, and I’ll turn your ass purple.”

Chapter 11

Maxim

Sasha freezes in place at my threat then closes the door.

She fucking played me.

Women. You can’t trust them. They lie and manipulate. She just gave me the hottest blowjob in the history of all blowjobs, and I stupidly thought it meant we were getting somewhere.