Page 21 of Hunted By the Masked BRATVA
I surrender to his touch, letting the remnants of the dream fade into the background as Konstantin's lips trail down my neck, nipping gently at the sensitive skin there. His hands slide under the sheets, warm and rough against my bare thighs, and I arch into him, craving more.
He knows exactly how to unravel me, his fingers tracing patterns that send shivers racing across my body. I gasp when he finds the heat between my legs, his fingers stroking through my folds before circling my clit with agonizing slowness, building the tension until I'm writhing beneath him.
He shifts his weight, positioning himself between my thighs, and I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him closer. His cock presses against me, hard and insistent, and I reach down to guide him inside, moaning as he fills me inch by inch. We move together in a rhythm that's both urgent and tender, his thrusts deep and deliberate, hitting that spot that makes stars burst behind my eyelids.
Sweat slicks our skin as the pace quickens, our breaths mingling in short, desperate pants. He breaks the kiss to watch my face, his eyes dark with desire, and I feel exposed, seen in a way that terrifies and thrills me. I clench around him, drawing him deeper, and he responds by grinding harder, his hand slipping between us. The pleasure builds like a storm, coiling tight in my core until it breaks, crashing over me in waves that leave me trembling and crying out his name.
He follows soon after, his body tensing as he spills inside me with a guttural moan, collapsing against me in a tangle of limbsand heavy breaths. We stay like that, connected and spent, his forehead resting against mine as the aftershocks fade.
In this moment, with him still buried deep, I feel a fragile peace, like maybe revenge isn't the only thing worth fighting for anymore.
Afterward, we lie tangled together, sweaty and satisfied and breathing hard.
"I have to tell you something," I say quietly.
"Okay."
"I don't know what happens after we destroy Troskoy. I don't know if the Vasilievs or the Reznikovs will let us walk away. I don't know if we'll survive this."
"I know."
"But I want to try." I prop myself up on one elbow, looking down at him. "Not just the revenge part. The after part. With you."
Konstantin's hand comes up, traces my jaw, my throat, the scar over my heart.
"Then we'll figure it out." His smile is soft, genuine. "Together."
I lean down and kiss him, sealing the promise.
Tomorrow, we'll finish draining Troskoy's accounts. Tomorrow, we'll start phase two of destroying him. But tonight, for just a few more hours, we're just Emilia and Konstantin. Two broken people choosing to heal together.
Konstantin
Three days later, Viktor Troskoy's empire starts to crumble.
It begins with the accounts. All seven of them, drained completely by Emilia's relentless work. Two hundred and eighty-six million dollars, redistributed across hundreds of charities and legitimate organizations.
Troskoy doesn't even notice until it’s too late.
When he does, I'm the one who gets to watch his face.
I’m at a meeting with Leonid Reznikov and two o f his most trusted men. Routine business, territory discussions, nothing unusual. Troskoy walks in looking like he owns the world. Expensive suit. Confident smile. The man who survived decades in this business by being smarter, faster, more ruthless than everyone else.
Then his phone buzzes.
I watch his expression change. Confusion. Disbelief. Fury.
He excuses himself, steps out into the hallway. Through the glass walls, I can see him making frantic calls, his face growing redder with each conversation.
Emilia is back at her apartment, working on phase two. But I wish she could see this.
Troskoy returns to the meeting ten minutes later. His composure is back in place, but I can see the cracks. The way his jaw is too tight. The way his hands are clenched into fists.
"Everything alright, Artur?" Leonid Reznikov asks, all polite concern.
"Fine." The word comes out clipped. "Just some banking issues. Nothing serious."
But it is serious. And from the way Leonid's eyes sharpen, he knows it too.
