Glazov
After quietly making my way into our bedroom, I lock the door behind me. My cock is hungry. I’ve been watching my wife via the surveillance monitor in my office, and now I need relief. Quickly, I remove my shoes, solely for the sake of stalking purposes, then loosen my tie and unbutton the dress shirt that feels like it’s choking me while I head for the mini bar in our room. Chilled vodka, silently poured into a shot glass, works its way down my throat, immediately followed by another.
It’s said that pouring a glass to the brim is barbaric in nature, and though it suits my mood to do so, my adherence to etiquette won’t permit it. As feral as I am at my core, my European roots ensure that I’m also very particular. The same traits are discernable in my cousin, Novak. I resist the urge to chuckle at the contradiction in terms: particular and predator, not wanting to alert my wife to my presence. She’s presently soaking in the tub, unaware she is being stalked.
Making my way into the huge bathroom, I lean against the long, smoky grey, granite countertop. No expense has been spared to provide my family with the best of everything in the mansion we inhabit. Despite having lived all over the world, most of my American connections are here in Louisville, Kentucky; it’s the reason the city was my top choice for a place to put down roots and build my empire. I even have a dysfunctional relationship with the FBI through Agent Turner. Of course, it was forced by my hand, but you say potato, I say potahto. As long as the desired results are achieved, I really don’t give a fuck how it comes to pass. Having spent my whole life manipulating people to get what I want, nothing is going to make me change at this point in the game.
Many citizens live their lives with a false sense of safety and security. They are ignorant of the evil that lurks in the shadows, completely unaware that government officials are bought and sold every day. My organization touches people who have no idea they have been influenced by my ideals. Simply put, nothing is as cut and dried as we envision it. We are all at the mercy of politicians; no one is truly looking out for our best interests. I’ve learned to play the game. Hundreds of years of wisdom and knowledge have been passed down to me by the men who ruled our Bratva cells throughout the generations. In turn, I have passed that knowledge down to my sons and daughter, and they will pass it down to their children. So, the cycle continues.
My cock jumps as I stare at my wife’s nipples, just grazing the top of the bubbles in the tub. Candles illuminate the room, and in the soft light, her milky white skin looks radiant with an incandescent glow. I can smell her from here. The scent is a mixture of lavender and almonds; it’s the scent of my Ptichka.
She jumps, startled when she opens her eyes to see me watching her.
“Damn it, Glazov, when are you going to stop stalking me?”
I cut my eyes at her and, in answer, remove my clothing. I slowly undress, neatly folding the items and placing them on a dressing bench.
My cock is jutting out, demanding attention. I make my way over to her, fisting a handful of her hair, and pull her mouth toward my swollen member. When she attempts to wrap her lips around the head, I pull her back to study her face.
She looks up at me through long dark lashes and speaks.
“You’ve been watching me on surveillance, haven’t you?”
“I’m always watching you, Ptichka, always.”
It’s the first time I’ve spoken, and my voice comes out in a low rumble.
I’m still holding a fistful of wet red hair. She is so fucking beautiful, and it’s all the more reason I have to watch over her.
“Get in the bathtub, and let me sit on your cock.”
“You’re such a dirty girl. I think I’ve created a monster.”
“You have no idea.”
Her statement doesn’t sit well with me.
“Oh really? Is there something you need to tell me?”
I don’t wait for an answer before guiding her toward the front of the tub by her ensnared hair in my fist. I let go to sit behind her. My large hand clamps possessively around her neck as I begin to whisper threats in her ear.
“Having lunch with Kodiak’s woman? What are you up to?”
When she attempts to answer, I quiet her.
“Shh, I have no desire to hear your lies. You would do well to support me in my decision to move her into the pool house where she can be monitored by my son.”
I purposely taunt her with the knowledge that my son works for me. Kodiak and I share a very strong bond, forged in the fires of adversity, and have been close since the day I pulled his tiny body from the burning flames that threatened to take his life. I refused to allow his soul to be stained by the soot that covered his body when we escaped death together.
“Now, shut the fuck up, and sit on my cock like the good little girl you aren’t. We both know you’re bad to the bone, more lethal and deceptive than the men who work for me. Get your ass turned around now!”
As she turns to face me, she visibly trembles in response to her fear. She slowly slides her quivering body down on my cock.
Clamping my hand around her neck, I squeeze until she gasps, startled and worried of what may come next.
“You’re so wet, you kinky little girl, feeding off the fear I provoke in you. You better be very careful, Ptichka, regarding Logan. I know you, and I know you’re up to something.”
When she attempts to shake her head in denial, I squeeze my hand tighter and tut in her direction, reprimanding her.
“I have no desire to hear your lies. Shut up and ride my cock. We’ve already settled this matter. I am not concerned with hearing your explanations. I am, however, concerned with using that tight little body of yours for my pleasure. Now, ride!”
I lean my head back against the bathtub, allowing it to loll to the side. I close my eyes soaking up the only peace I have—peace I only find when I’m inside the woman I love.
I can feel my balls clench tightly as my body responds to the magic my wife works on me. I erupt in pleasure; it’s a climax so intense that I’m certain my knees would’ve buckled beneath me had I been standing.
I stroke my Ptichka’s hair as she leans down onto my chest, falling into the safety I provide her.
The water ripples around me as she stands to wash her body. I eye the strip of red hair on her pussy, waiting until she rinses off to twist it in my fingers and use it to pull her close to me.
My tongue dips inside her, and I look up, locking my hooded eyes on hers. Her legs begin to tremble as I alternate tasting her folds and sucking her clit with the full lips my Russian heritage has provided me. Her fingers clench in my long blond hair as I send her over the edge. I never tire of her taste, her smell, her being. She is the only one with the power to make all things right in my world.
“Dry off, and go sit on the bed. I’ll join you in a moment.”