Chapter 5 Chapter 5

Maksim

“I want to know where she is at all times,” I instruct in a commanding voice to my head of operations. Bruce is a powerhouse of muscle; he runs a tight team of some of the finest ex-military men. They cover me for literally everything. Resources are everything in my world.

From my hotel room, I step out onto the balcony and then decide it’s too fucking hot. Is it the weather here in Croatia, or is it the fact that a certain woman with long, jet black hair and a body covered in tattoos has made me all hot under the collar?

I’m going with Valentina. She has got me interested and intrigued. And fuck me, I want her. Since when have I ever wanted a woman like I want her? The woman tried to shoot me to kill. Have I lost my mind? Has someone taken out my brain? I should not want a woman that had a target on my head. Yet here I am. Hell bent on wanting to make her submit to me and stuff my cock in her mouth to teach her a lesson for being so sassy.

My cock thickens in my olive linen slacks. I’m tenting. Fucking great. Thank God nobody is in the suite with me. And I need to get the hell out of Croatia. I have business to attend to that doesn’t involve the scumbags my father sent me to meet. Who never showed up. There will be heads rolling when he finds out. So far, I have managed to not communicate with my father. He will only talk down to me and tell me that he has sent a boy to do a man’s job. I know that I should seek the mother fuckers out, but honestly, I can’t be bothered to waste my energy on such matters. My father has other men who can do this.

I have my own legitimate business to run. One that isn’t based on money laundering. It fucks me off that I am even born into the Silov name and what it means. There are times when it haunts me like the black demons that pass through my mind when I think of the things I have had to do growing up. Another time, another story.

For now, I need to take care of the throbbing cock in my linens.

“Yes, Sir,” Bruce replies. We end the call. I throw the mobile on the nightstand and look up at the ceiling, like that is going to help me. How the fuck am I going to get the images of Valentina Santangelo out of my mind?

The way those lips taunt me, the full, luscious lips that I want to taste. The way her breasts rise and fall, the image of her standing there full of confidence in her black lace underwear. I pinch the bridge of my nose as I glance down at the throbbing erection, now painful.

“Fuck it.”

I undo the cord of my linen pants and let them fall to the ground in the bedroom of the penthouse suite I have at the hotel, and step out of them. I take my cock in my hand and squeeze it hard, feeling the ridge of each vein as they protrude angrily. That woman needs my cock inside her; I want to hear her beg me for more. I want her to scream my name and nobody else’s. My mind goes insane with thoughts of ravishing her body, kissing every inch of her skin, outlining her tattoos with my tongue. The pre-cum glistens at the end of my cock. I could shoot my fucking load merely thinking about smart-mouth, Valentina.

Every part of me is fired up. I’m angry that I was at the end of her scope. By rights, I should be getting Bruce to deal with that woman. Yet, I can’t. There is something about her that intrigues me. And I am a man who likes a game of cat and mouse.

Everyone knows my father had the hit on her father organized. Nobody expected the great and mighty Nico Santangelo to survive. He did. They don’t call him Iron Nico for nothing. The man is what legends are made of. His daughter will be no different. I wonder, however, if her father knows that she runs around wielding a sniper rifle.

Naked, since I wasn’t wearing a top, I head to the brown, marble-tiled bathroom that is bigger than some people’s apartments, go straight for the shower, and turn the water on to cool. I step inside and slide the treble door closed and allow the water to cascade down my naked body. I lean my head forward; the water runs down my head and down, the refreshing cool water not able to temper down my burning body, nor the raging cock in my hand.

I slam a hand against the tile wall, cursing. “Fucking Valentina.” I have never been mentally owned by a woman before. Yet since our recent interaction, she is all that I can think of. I need to eradicate her from my mind. I need to focus on my business. Not organizing to have her followed.

She had her chance at shooting me; I doubt she will try again. Because there is one thing I know: she won’t get a next time.

My hand begins to pump my cock, I keep a tight grip on it, exactly the way I like it and take long, lazy strokes until my balls begin to tingle and tighten. The feeling at the base of my spine lets me know that I am so damn close to erupting hot, creamy cum all over the pure tiles of the shower.

“Yes, yes,” I moan as I pump harder and faster until I can feel the release bubbling away inside me. Fireworks explode behind my eyes as I think about Valentina on her knees, sucking me off like a good girl, enjoying being deep-throated, gagging on the length and width of my cock.

The semen splurts onto the shower walls, my elbow shudders as my legs begin to quiver from the intense release. I know one thing for certain. The only way to get that woman out of my mind is to fly back to Moscow and hook up with someone else.

Only, Moscow isn’t on the agenda, unfortunately. I have to fly to New York to meet up with some shareholders in my finance business. The thought of growing my business always sends a thrill through my veins.

Not as much as betting that a certain blue-eyed woman, who can dazzle me and have me thinking all sorts of things about her, might just be in New York too.

“Game on, my Котёнок.”