“I swear if I have to carry these babies one more day I’m going to scream,” Natasha moaned. “I’m big as a whale and my back hurts. I’m glad we’re having twins but these two are already wearing me out and I still have a month to go.”
Nikita lazily trailed his fingertips over her stomach. He was looking forward to meeting his children, and his father was over the moon about being a grandfather to twins. In Glazov’s opinion, ‘the more the merrier’ was the rule when it came to his family.
“Now when the time comes, I’ll be glad to help you with that little problem—you know, help speed the labor and delivery process along.”
“Little problem?!” She pointed to her considerable baby belly. “You Glazov men, you think you can control everything, right down to Mother Nature. These babies will come when they decide to come. Neither of us can do anything to rush them.”
“Really? Hmm, a demonstration, I think…”
His fingers trailed lower, enflaming her hunger for her husband’s touch. She could feel her hips shift in response to the tingles left behind in the wake of his soft touch. He stood and removed the drawstring pants he had put on after dinner. As he stood by the bed stroking his erection, he savored the sight before him and the simple pleasure of knowing he had put those babies inside her. There was something powerful about the sight of her manifesting the love they had for one another.
He joined her on the bed and turned her, positioning her on her hands and knees. She had always loved it when he took her from behind, but in the last month the position had become a necessity as the babies took up more room. He pushed into her gently, needing to make tender love to her, needing to commit this moment to memory, just the two of them. Such moments would be a rarity soon enough.
Natasha closed her eyes and focused on the sensation of Nikita moving inside her, of knowing his attention was fixed solely on her. Their lives were about to change in a profound way. She vowed to make her marriage a priority. She had seen Glazov and Kathleen do it, so she knew it wasn’t impossible.
She could feel her body rising on a crest of need and the familiar flutter in her stomach let her know her climax was seconds away. Her body tightened as warm pleasure thrummed through her veins. With his hands possessively kneading her full, lush breasts, she shuddered with the intensity of her release.
His thrusts became more demanding and erratic until he stilled abruptly, muscles clenching and hips pulsing with each thick jet of cum that surged from his body into hers. As the last ripple of pleasure passed, he lay his cheek between her shoulder blades and held on tight.
Eventually, he got her settled against the pillows and laid down next to her, rubbing his hand over her belly again. He loved his wife and he loved the babies she was so willingly carrying for him. Natasha had been the love of his life for as long as he’d known how to love. Now he was convinced she was a damn miracle. He leaned down and kissed her lips, loosely wrapping his pinky around hers.
“I always knew it would be you, Natasha. From the time we were kids, way back when we made that pinky promise, I knew this was real, that what we had was special. I love you. Thank you for loving me,” kiss “for carrying my babies,” kiss “and for being my best friend.”
It was the single most beautiful thing he had ever said to her, in a lifetime of countless special moments together.
Yuri wasn’t a small man but he still managed to move among the shadows without ever being seen. His physical appearance was distinctive enough to be noticed, so he had made an art of never allowing anyone he was tailing to spot him. He had cultivated a remarkable ability to hide in plain sight, whether he was lurking in an alley, standing in a cashier line, or sipping coffee behind a newspaper he was supposedly reading in the park. And so it was that he came to be parked across from the farmer’s market where Volya was shopping for fresh produce.
Yuri was looking forward to avenging the Pakhan. Glazov was the reason Yuri had brought his family over with him from Russia to America so many years ago. He had served the Pakhan in a variety of roles over the years: bodyguard, chauffeur, enforcer. Eventually, declining health had prompted Yuri to request semi-retirement. Glazov agreed and set him up in a business that wouldn’t be as taxing to his health but would still help him keep busy—a sauna and jacuzzi distributorship, no less. As Yuri’s health improved, he became a vocal advocate for the healing powers of the sauna.
Most of Yuri’s sales were from jacuzzi purchases, but saunas were particularly popular among the Bratva, for the sake of hedonistic pleasure and because they provided a unique means for privacy when discussing sensitive business matters. There was no chance of a man wearing a wire in a sauna and cell phones weren’t allowed.
In Yuri’s mind, killing an enemy of the Pakhan was a way to give back for the many opportunities afforded him during a lifetime of Bratva service. The Pakhan was a good man – deadly, yes, but always fair.
Yuri just hoped that Vladimira would be as understanding as Glazov had been. He didn’t want to make an enemy of the Bratva queen of potions and poison. He decided it would be best to call her and confirm that all was well with his plan to take Volya out.
Yuri rolled his eyes as he watched his mark haggle over a melon before stomping indignantly to his car. Yuri was a mafia movie buff, and he wished he could shoot the guy right there, just like in that scene from the best movie ever made, The Godfather. But there were too many people around, and Volya was no Don Corleone. And these days witnesses meant cell phones, which meant cameras, which meant You Tube videos going viral. Witnesses would inevitably complicate things so he wouldn’t be able to enjoy it anyway – and what would be the point in that?
He grimaced, sighing heavily at another fantasy that would go unrealized. He still had a family to think about so he would be responsible and show restraint by killing Volya somewhere more private. He waited an extra moment or two before pulling into traffic, putting ample space between his car and Volya’s.
The thought hit him suddenly from out of nowhere that perhaps he should break Volya’s neck instead of shooting him. It had been a long time since he’d had a full-contact, close-up kill and he did miss the rush he got from snuffing out a life with his bare hands. There was something so personal about wrapping your hand around someone’s neck and feeling their blood pumping through their jugular right before you deliver the death blow. It was just a matter of a quick, decisive twist of the neck and pop! One second they were there, then they weren’t anywhere anymore.
Yeah, if he could get that up close and personal, it would be worth the extra trouble. He missed the old days when being a true predator was considered an art form, when he could stalk his prey and close in on them unaware. Now? It was little more than target practice.
But he had one piece of unfinished business to take care of before he could, in good conscience, proceed. He used the driving time to make the call before he could overthink it and back out. He took a deep breath and blew it out on a powerful exhale as he listened to the phone ring. She answered on the third ring and Yuri got right to the point.
“Madam Vladimira, I hope you will pardon the intrusion. I call you out of great respect, to ask your blessing on the task I have been given, and to give you my word that I in no way meant to intrude. I took on this task only to show my respect for your family, and to rid you of this unfortunate matter. I humbly ask your blessing.”
The approval in Vladimira’s voice washed over him like softly flowing, cool water. “Yuri, how very kind of you to call me. In this day and age, such courtesy is rare. Of course, you have my blessing. Now,” she said eagerly, “how do you plan to do it?”
“He would be an easy shot, Madam.”
“Hmmm,” she purred, “I’m sure he would. But that would be so impersonal, don’t you agree?”
Bloodlust roared through Yuri’s veins, making him momentarily lightheaded as he gleaned the meaning from her casual words. “Yes, I agree, Madam. Far too impersonal. There is something to be said for the old ways, yes?”
“Exactly. Yuri, you’re a man after my own Bratva heart. Do what you need to do, and make sure you bring that beautiful wife of yours by the store when it opens. I have some pieces I’m certain she would love. In fact, as a token of my appreciation, I’d like to gift her with something. I’m thinking of a particular brooch that I know she would adore. Just a little bauble, something to remind her what a lucky woman she is to have such a good Bratva man by her side.”
“You are most generous, Madam.”
“Yes, I suppose I am. And I will confess to being more than a little envious of you. The pursuit is always such fun,” she said wistfully.
“I will tell him you sent me.”
“You do that,” she said, her voice suddenly devoid of emotion. “Then tell him Joseph is waiting for him in Hell.”
Yuri ended the call. Now he could do his job without distraction or worry. He may have even made a friend…and an important one, at that.
He followed Volya to an apartment complex that had seen better days. The whole thing almost felt too easy, but it worked out perfectly when they pulled into the small, deserted parking lot behind the building, away from prying eyes. Volya’s arms were loaded down with groceries when Yuri approached him with a congenial smile on his face as if he were about to ask for directions to the local mall.
A brief flash of recognition crossed Volya’s face before Yuri struck. His movements were quick and precise, the exact opposite of what his large size would suggest. He rushed at Volya and put him in a choke hold as he gritted out, “Vladimira Glazov sends her regards. And Joseph awaits you in Hell.”
Yuri yanked Volya’s neck around and, with a gratifying crunch that made Yuri’s dick hard, the job was done. The bag of fresh fruit fell from Volya’s dead hands, sending apples, peaches, and that damn melon hurtling onto the asphalt.
He dragged Volya’s body over the short distance to his car and heaved it into the trunk. After closing the trunk, he picked out a few unbruised apples to take home with him.
Yuri drove away, as always, unnoticed. The job was done. The Glazovs had been avenged. An example had been made of Volya Kuznetsov. And he had just enough apples for his wife to make a nice Sharlotke Cake.