Chapter 24: Mafia Prince’s Secret Baby: Chapter 23

Aleks’s words hit me harder than I thought they would.

It’s the only explanation for why I’m sitting here, hours after putting Sofiya and Damien to bed, waiting for Igor to come home. Normally, he makes time for the kids before bedtime, but tonight, his usual heavy footsteps haven’t echoed through the halls.

When the front door finally opens and slams shut, I tense. The sound reverberates through the quiet house, followed by the distinct rhythm of his shoes against the wooden floor. His steps are louder and faster than normal, sharp and purposeful. Is he angry? In a rush?

I slip out of my bedroom before I can second-guess myself. Curiosity gets the better of me, pulling me toward the hallway. The floors creak under my weight as I cross the corridor, moving quickly to peek around the corner.

Igor is standing at the door to his room, one foot planted in the doorway, his hand braced against the frame. He pauses, tilting his head slightly to the left, and I swear he’s looking straight at me.

“I know you’re there,” he calls out, his deep voice rolling down the hall.

My heart drops, and a chill ripples through me. How the hell does he do that? Is he a wizard or something?

“It’s okay,” he says, his tone softer now. “Come closer.”

I stay rooted in place, refusing to move. Like I’d willingly approach the beast.

“Where were you?” I demand, my voice sharper than I intend.

He turns fully to face me, his brow furrowed in confusion. “Since when do you give a shit?”

“Answer the question,” I snap.

His jaw tightens, and for a moment, I think he’s going to ignore me. But then he sighs, running a hand through his dark hair. “I was on a date.”

“What?” The word escapes me before I can stop myself, and I immediately wish I hadn’t reacted. My stomach twists, a sick feeling creeping in.

“A date,” he repeats, lifting his chin as if daring me to challenge him. “Do you have a problem with that?”

I do.

I really do.

My hands sting as I clench them into fists, anger bubbling up and spilling over. Before I realize what I’m doing, I storm across the hall, shoving past him into his room. He follows me inside, and I slam the door shut behind us. The sound echoes like a gunshot.

“As a matter of fact, I do,” I snap, turning to face him. “Your idiot brother tried to convince me to give you a chance. For some reason, he believes you want to be in Sofiya’s life. But judging by tonight? It looks like you’d much rather be anywhere else.”

Igor’s eyes narrow, his posture straightening as he towers over me. “Are you done?”

“No,” I bite out, the fire in my belly surging higher. The words spill out of me, fast and hot, my frustration boiling over. I’m not even sure who I’m mad at anymore—Aleks for raising my hopes or myself for believing, even for a second, that Igor could be anything more than the selfish, stubborn man standing in front of me.

“You’re a pig,” I throw at him, the words cutting like daggers.

He doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t even react. Instead, he loosens the tie around his neck, his expression maddeningly calm as he undoes the knot. “Please move out of the way,” he says coolly. “I can’t have this conversation until I change. This suit costs a fortune.”

He tugs the tie free and drapes it over a nearby chair, his broad shoulders shifting under the perfectly tailored fabric of his shirt. My eyes betray me, trailing over the hard lines of his body, the way the muscles ripple as he unbuttons his collar.

And then I see it.

The red lipstick stain on his collar.

It hits me like a slap to the face, reigniting the anger that was just starting to cool. “You’re a fucking man-whore,” I spit, the words laced with venom.

Igor’s gaze sharpens, his eyes growing cold as ice. “Watch your mouth,” he warns.

“Or what?” I challenge, my voice rising.

His brow arches, and the faintest smirk tugs at the corner of his lips. “You wouldn’t enjoy it, Katya. Or maybe you would. Should we try and see?”

Heat rushes to my face, and I feel it crawl up my neck as an unbidden image of him flashes in my mind—naked, pressed against me, his hands gripping my waist, his mouth claiming mine. I hate that he makes me feel unhinged.

My expression hardens, and I look away, desperate to regain control of the situation. “I don’t want someone else’s leftovers,” I mutter, the words slipping out before I can stop them.

“No need to be jealous,” Igor drawls. He steps closer, his presence overwhelming. “I’m wined and dined, but I skipped dessert. That honor is all yours.”

“I don’t…” My voice falters, trailing off as the weight of his words settles over me. There’s too much swirling inside me—anger, hurt, confusion.

“What is it, Katya?” he asks roughly. “Do you want me, or not? Just say the word, and you’ll be the only woman I touch.”

It hits me like a sledgehammer. He’s offering me everything—more than I ever expected.

“I don’t want you,” I whisper, turning my back to him. “Nothing has changed.”

The words are a lie, but I say them anyway.

I hear him exhale. A sharp, frustrated sound.

I start to leave. Igor moves with lightning speed, capturing me between the door and his large body, pressing himself against my back and letting me feel his bulge. He licks the tip of my earlobe.

“You sure about that?” His breathing is heavy with desire. But this man could walk away anytime. He has the self-control I sorely lack.

“Why can’t you leave me be?” I moan, hating my lack of resolve.

Biting down on the tendon that runs from my neck to my shoulder, he whispers, “When I have you this close, all I can think about is how warm your mouth would feel around my cock. Would you like to taste me?”

It’s dim in the room, yet he knows exactly what’s happening to my body. My nipples harden to pained pebbles, my pussy clenching around nothing. The pressure deep in my core worsens as his skilled fingers wander south.

“Stop,” I demand meekly.

My mind conjures up images of me crawling on my knees, taking his swollen length between my lips, and pleasuring him with my tongue.

“No,” he growls, thrusting his hips against my ass.

He hisses when I press back, wanting to be consumed by the moment. Something explodes inside me. It’s like we’re two young horny teens making hasty decisions, knowing damn well what a bad idea this is, and yet unwilling to resist temptation.

“Please, stop torturing me,” I whisper, surprised by the depth of my need.

Instead of responding, he sucks the spot beneath my ear. “Touch me like you mean it, Katya. I’ll do anything for you.”

“What do you think I’m doing now?” I’m becoming more aggressive, thrusting my ass against his erection.

A gasp escapes my parted lips when he cups my pussy. “Exactly. You’re rubbing that luscious body against mine because you want me just as bad as I want you. It’s time you admit it.”

I gulp and shake my head, even as one hand reaches behind me to hold on to his ass.

“You enjoy playing with fire, huh?” He moves his hips and licks a finger before thrusting it into my panties to circle my nub.

“Please,” I beg again, panting slightly.

“Your begging isn’t getting you any closer to your release,” he warns, then drags his finger lower, the tip hovering over my opening.

I turn around and grab his bulging manhood. Even through his pants, I can feel his heat. “Isn’t this what you want?”

He hisses through gritted teeth. “Among other things.”

My hand trails to his belt buckle, undoing it before moving to his button. I lower the zipper. Igor pushes me away and sheds his suit jacket. It falls to the floor with his shirt, leaving his upper body is naked, showing off his tattoos. My mouth goes dry. A light sprinkling of dark hair covers his chest before fanning down below his navel and trailing beneath the band of his underwear.

Igor tugs his slacks down, revealing his iliac crest. Not quite seeing his cock, I reach to cup it. His eyes widen, and his dick twitches. “Careful. My patience is wearing thin.”

I lick my lips, and he groans, pulling away from me.

“Whose fault is that?” I sass him, crossing my arms.

“It’s all yours, baby,” he answers, yanking off his shoes, socks, and pants.

Nearly naked from the waist down, his underwear leaves little to the imagination. In the dead silence of the room, I can hear his heartbeat and see beads of sweat forming on his temples. Lifting my chin, I ask him, “Should we talk first?”

His bright blue eyes glaze over. “You’re edging me again.”

I roll my eyes. “I haven’t a clue what you mean.”

“Maybe it would help if you could see what you do to me.”

“Is it so wrong to want some romance?”

“Who said this wouldn’t be romantic?” he retorts, then steps in front of me.

I turn my face away, allowing his hands to bunch the fabric of my nightgown between his fingers. In one smooth move, he pulls the fabric off me, and I’m just as exposed as him. He drags me across the room, and before I know it, I’m seated on the edge of the bed. Spreading my legs apart, he crouches in front of me. His hands touch the flesh of my thighs.

“You’re gorgeous, Katya,” he breathes. “Exquisite in every way.”

His praise slides down my neck, between my breasts, and lower still. His palms are hungry, his touch greedy.

“Will you let me eat your pussy, hm?” His finger dips and presses into my damp panties, increasing the sensation of heat and wetness. “A kiss for my girl. A small show of romance. Well?”

I try to look away, and that sends me on a downward spiral of insecurity.

I try to deflect. “I’m not… I haven’t had a razor in a while.”

“Show me, Katya,” he moans huskily. “Show me you’ll stop resisting.”

“Please,” I whisper, not even knowing what it is I’m asking for.

“I need to know you feel the same,” he says, drawing his hands away. “I don’t want to force myself on you.”

“Kiss me first,” I beg him, barely audible.

He immediately crushes his mouth to mine, and I’m intoxicated by his desire. I open my mouth for him, our tongues sliding together in a tangle of promise. Pulling him closer by the lapels of his open shirt, I curl my fingers over his shoulders. My skin burns from the contact, and the pain of lust clenches me.

“Here,” he mutters against my lips, forcing a hand between my legs.

He slips a thumb under the fabric and spreads my natural lubrication upward, tapping the base of my clit a few times. Everything’s happening so fast, and yet, time stops when he drops his gaze. It travels lower, and the way he looks at me renders me helpless. I whimper, tilting my head back when his eyes meet mine. Their brilliant blue is a rare treasure in the deepening night. His beard’s rough as he kisses a trail down my chest to my belly and farther down.

“No,” I rasp.

“Yes,” he answers, looking directly at me. “You are mine, Katya, all of you.”

He strokes a cheek against my thigh, tenderly pressing his face into the soft curve where my leg meets my torso. His every movement is an exercise in control. He looks up, eager and wild with want. His expression shifts to delight when he feels the moisture gathering in my slit. Igor pushes his fingertips into my achingly empty pussy.

“Christ, you are divine,” he grunts, feeling the walls clench around him. “I can’t wait to sink myself inside you, volchitsa.”

With a yelp, I sit straighter, enjoying every long, luxurious motion of his fingers, the way his knuckles move. His dirty promises are fuel to the fire. Instead of calming me, his finger and thumb twirling around my clit make it impossible to think straight.

“So warm, wet, and tight,” he growls, running his thumb against the heated little nub. “I like you slippery like this. Tell me, do you want me to lick you good?”

I pant and nod, barely aware of what I’m doing.

One move, and my panties are tossed to the ground.

“Shall we find out together if I can make you sing?” he purrs, diving toward me like a hungry tiger.

“Stop being mean,” I whine, my hands meeting his shoulders.

“I’ll rail you so good that you can’t feel your legs.”

His tongue touches the apex of my sex, and a ball of want knots in the pit of my stomach. He strokes me firmly, up and down, until I’m weak with pleasure. I fall back on the bed, lifting my hips.

“That’s right, baby, I’ve got you.” He grins, pumping those wicked fingers faster.

His movements are precise and meant to destroy. With each swipe, my control evaporates. His tongue licks along my slit and circles my clit greedily. My breath goes shallow as I pant, turning his name into a whiny prayer.

“You’re delicious,” he murmurs, burying his face between my thighs, and his tongue devours everything, starting with my quivering entrance and climbing the nerve bundle until it touches down again.

He continues until I’m a writhing, crying mess. I take his free hand and tightly grip his fingers, holding them for dear life.

“Want my cock?” he croaks, pulling his mouth away for a moment.

“Yes!” I half-moan, half-shout.