Page 55 of Pregnant By the Russian Pakhan

Mira moaned and arched her back, almost coming off the bed in her excitement.

Mikhail placed the vibrator against her clitoris and it began to hum against her sensitized flesh as he fucked her hard, going deeper and deeper and deeper until he was buried to the hilt inside her tight wet pussy.

“I can’t get over how incredibly tight you are,” he whispered. “So sweet, oh so sweet.”

Her vagina closed tightly around his hard length, greedily squeezing the thick ridge of his penis repeatedly. She felt her toes curl with pleasure as he quickened his pace.

“Please don’t stop,” she moaned mindlessly as he rode her. She cupped his cheek in her hands and whispered, “I love you, I love you, Mikhail. I love you, I want you, I need you.”

He took the words, accepting them by turning his head to drop a kiss into one of the hands she had cupped at his cheeks, but he didn’t say them back to her. He pressed the vibrator more forcefully against the soft nub of flesh that was her clitoris and she gasped as sensation washed over her anew.

Mikhail tightened his hold on her and began to pound even faster, changing the angle of his thrusts slightly to press his thick cock against her G-spot.

Her body tensed, awareness pounding through her veins as her hands caressed every inch of him she could reach—his chest, his hands, his face. And then suddenly, she was groaning and twisting as her vagina began to clench and unclench. She fell apart in his arms and screamed his name aloud as the waves finally swept her over the edge.

Mikhail covered her lips with his mouth, his pleasure mingling with hers as he also came in crashing waves of pleasure and spurted his thick cum into her tight, waiting pussy.

As Mira settled down to sleep beside Mikhail, sated and spent, an intruding thought worried her—even in the throes of passion Mikhail had been unable to say that he loved her. Did he love her?

Mikhail’s phone rang just then and she jerked it off its place on the bedside table and picked up the call at once, not wanting the sound to wake Mikhail when he was sleeping so peacefully.

Vlad’s gruff voice came over the line. “Pakhan? Dostoevsky’s escaped. I’m not sure how, but he somehow managed to vanish from our dungeons.”

Mira sat up in agitation.

“How does a man vanish from a locked dungeon?”

She heard Vlad’s sharp intake of breath, his only indication of any surprise that she was answering Mikhail’s phone. Then he said smoothly as though she answered Mikhail’s phone every other day. “Pardon me ma’am. The guards turned their backs for a minute and he gave them the slip. I have to believe he stole a key because one of the guards is missing a key.”

Mira was so furious she was shaking. Her father had somehow managed to escape captivity. She knew him well enough to know that, Dostoevsky wasn’t the type to run from a fight. It stood against everything he believed in. He would probably just regroup and return to fight them both or he would—

The door to the bedroom was flung open so roughly that it crashed into the wall. The noise brought Mikhail rearing up to a sitting position, instantly poised for a fight.

Oleg Dostoevsky was framed in the doorway, clutching a visibly terrified Sarah to him, with a gun pointed directly at her head.

Mira’s eyes met her father’s over Sarah’s head and as she looked steadily into his cold, lifeless eyes, she knew as surely as she knew her name that he intended to pull that trigger and kill all three of them.

She could tell that he wasn’t fooling around; he had come to kill his enemies.

Chapter 33 - Mikhail

“Dostoevsky? What the hell?” Mikhail spat as he jerked to a seating position.

He had forgotten that he had slept naked on the covers until Sarah’s eyes dropped down to his huge penis and rounded in her small face into twin saucers.

Hastily, he jerked the bedclothes over himself, even as the girl jerked her gaze towards the far wall.

Oleg Dostoevsky had wild eyes. He swung the gun widely, pointing it first at Mikhail and then at Mira.

“You stupid, silly bitch. Just like your mother. What is it with both of you and the Nikolai men?” Dostoevsky spat, ignoring Mikhail and glaring murderously across the space separating them at Mira.

Mira clutched the bedcovers to her neck, looking ill and terrified all at once. Everything in Mikhail boiled with rage. Where were his men when this man strode out of the dungeons and grabbed a hostage to show him the way to his bedroom?

As though she had read his thoughts, Mira flicked a side glance towards him as she said in a low tone, “Vlad called you just before he burst in to tell you about his escape.”

Mikhail wasn’t mollified. Why had he been allowed to escape in the first place? His dungeons were famous for the fact that no one who entered them got out alive unless he wanted them to.

“What do you want?” Mikhail demanded, directing his question to Dostoevsky. His best bet was to keep the man talking so that his men could hopefully come this way and surprise him from the back. He was stark naked in bed underneath the covers; hardly the safest attire for armed combat, he thought with dark humor.

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