Mikhail groans as he thrusts into me. I can’t see him when all I want is for our eyes to meet. I want to cling to him, but I can’t use my arms. Mikhail is, once again, in control, and all I can do is submit to him.

I can’t keep my head up as he takes me with abandon. It’s rough and raw. And I want more.

I wrap my legs tighter around his waist, drawing him in closer. Mikhail growls low in his throat, gripping my thighs hard until they bruise. I don’t even mind. I want to bruise. I want to know he’s fully claimed me.

I want him to make me forget all my fears and worries, even if my fears and worries include him.

Mikhail grinds his hips against mine, driving his erection deeper within me. My inner walls clench down hard on him, which makes me groan. I love hearing the effect I have on him. It shows me Mikhail isn’t just a scary Bratva man. He’s also human.

“You like this, my dirty girl?” he murmurs into my ear, thrusting into me harder.

“Yes,” I cry out. Thrust.

“Yes what?” Thrust.

“Yes, sir!” Thrust.

“I own you completely. Tell me. Tell me you’re mine.”

I can’t hold back anymore. My body is spent.

“I’m yours!” I gasp as I come again. My second orgasm hits me harder than the first, leaving me trembling and breathless.

Mikhail continues to thrust into me until he comes. I shiver when I feel his seed inside me. His hands grip my back as he buries his head in my neck. All I want to do is hold him.

After a minute of staying like this, he pulls out of me. Gently, he sets my legs back on the ground and uncuffs my hands. I immediately sink into his arms. Mikhail holds me for a while until he removes my blindfold. The room is shrouded in a soft glow, making it easy for me to see.

“Do you feel better?” he asks, running his hand down my cheek.

“Yes,” I admit.

“Don’t waste your time with pesky questions. It will only lead to hurt.”

I try not to flinch. There’s so much I want to know about Mikhail, but he’s still keeping me at a distance. Because I can’t ask him about his son, I’m going to ask him something else instead.

“Are we going to have children?”

Mikhail tenses for a moment before nodding. “I thought we would. We haven’t been using protection.”

“I know. Do you … want to be a dad? Again?”

“I’m not telling you about my son. Not right now. And yes, I want to be a dad again.” He turns away from me and starts pulling on his clothes. “Now, I want you to go back to our bedroom and go to sleep. We’re done here.”

But you haven’t finished comforting me, I think.

I don’t tell him this because whatever Mikhail wants, Mikhail gets.

I don’t bother grabbing my clothes as I leave the room. My sisters are asleep this time of night, and Mary’s gone home. There’s no one to see me naked.

And there’s no one to see me cry.

MIKHAIL

Twenty years ago

I had work to attend to. The usual—some guy was causing trouble, and it was my job to get him in line, either by threatening or killing him. It was a fifty/fifty when it came to my job.

But Alexei didn’t want me to go. “Stay,” he begged, clutching his teddy bear. He was so tiny at five years old. And so angelic with his blond hair, which he got from his mother. But he had my dark eyes. Alexei was my son, after all. He would take over the family business one day. It was only right he have some of me in him, and what better than my eyes? I’ve used my eyes to intimidate a lot of people. Alexei would learn to do the same.

“I can’t stay,” I tell him, slipping on my coat.

“Can you read me to sleep?”

“Your mother can do that.”

Alexei pouted and stomped his foot. “But I want you!”

“Alexei, stop this nonsense. Your mother will read to you. I will be back later. You will see me tomorrow.”

“Please,” he begged, tugging on my sleeve.

“Enough!” I shouted, making him gasp and scramble away from me. He ran to the couch and crouched down, eyeing me with fear. All the anger instantly left me.

But I didn’t walk over and comfort him. Work was more important.

So, I left, and that would be the biggest regret of my life.

The moment I returned from work, I knew something was wrong. The air was too quiet. Too tense.

I pushed the door open and stepped into something wet. Glancing down, I saw it was blood. I grabbed my gun without thinking and walked into the house.

It didn’t take long for me to find him.

Alexei.

The body of my little boy.

He was lying on the living room floor, his teddy bear next to his body, covered in blood. He’d been stabbed.

I quickly looked away, inhaling deeply. The sight of my boy dead was unbearable. How? Why? How?

A sound by the stairs made me turn. It was Natasha. She was alive but covered in blood from the stab wounds to her body.

“Mikhail,” she whispered.

I ran to her. “What happened?”