Diamond Days (Born Bratva 6)(27)

 

He watched in fascination as his little bird writhed; wished he could hear her moans of pleasure; groaned as her womanly hips moved sensuously against her lover's in an increasingly urgent, frantic rhythm; and seethed as Glazov manhandled the luscious breasts and ass that rightfully belonged to the stranger.

 

The muscles of the stranger's neck and jaw clenched as he struggled to stave off the orgasm that threatened to undue him. We come together, always together.

 

At long last, she arched her back in climax, mindlessly clenching and kneading her own breasts as her auburn mane tumbled over her shoulders. He tightened his grip and allowed himself to give in, his pleasure peaking with hers, his seed spilling uselessly onto the ground as she collapsed on Glazov's chest.

 

He turned away briefly when Glazov wrapped his arms around her, biceps bulging has he pulled her against his chest, his legs tangling with hers as his hands roamed possessively over her curves.

 

The stranger waited impatiently for Glazov to take his hands off his little bird. He wanted to gaze at her nakedness and pretend that he was the one next to her. But they never moved. The stranger's nostrils flared and he threw the binoculars to the ground. They had fallen asleep still connected, still … joined.

 

He seethed with jealousy as he clenched his fists. It was bad enough knowing that, even now, the monster's spunk lingered inside her; he wanted that Bratva fraud's dick out of her body, now.

 

His balls throbbed at the thought of taking Glazov's most prized possession, his beloved Ptichka. The stranger looked forward to the day when she would gaze up at him hungrily, preferably while she deepthroated his dick. He would breed her over and over again; would make her bear his son.

 

If she wouldn't come to him willingly, then he would do what was best, what needed to be done. That's what great leaders did. No doubt, she would be angry at first when he caged her, might even try to fight him off when he took her. But he would show her; he would make her let him in so he could show her. And she would learn to love him. When his baby was growing in her belly, she would have to love him.

 

As for Glazov, the stranger already had plans to cut off the head of the monster and impale it on the tallest spike of the wrought iron gate at the entrance to the Bratva compound. That would send a clear message to the men under Glazov's rule. It would earn their respect and make them fear him. As they should.

 

The stranger was a cause-and-effect kind of man. When he was crossed and pushed over the line, he retaliated. Well, he'd been pushed beyond all endurance and now it was time to set things right. After all, Glazov had stolen what was rightfully his, so it only made sense that he, at long last, should lay claim to the life and the woman that had always been meant for him.

 

I'm going to hit you where it hurts the most, Glazov. It isn't your money and power that I'm after. I want your heart, still beating, in my hand. Ptichka is your heart.

 

Glazov, the monster. He had to have known the throne wasn't rightfully his but he had taken it anyway. He hadn't cared that he was stealing from his own brother. He was so power hungry that he had thought nothing of stealing it. At least that's how the stranger saw things, and that was all that mattered.

 

 

 

        

          

        

         

 

"I'm coming for you, Glazov," he muttered to himself as he stuffed his limp member back in his pants, "and you know it, too. You're not stupid; you know who I am and you know I'm watching, and there isn't a thing you can do about it."

 

He didn't believe all that superstitious crap about the Pakhan. All that stupid shit about a curse falling on anyone who defied him was just an old wives' tale. Weak people needed an irrational belief system to make them feel safe. But not him; he was stronger than that and soon everyone would see just how strong he really was. And soon everyone would see Glazov for the imposter he was.

 

They would accept the stranger as their Pakhan, and anyone who didn't want to be a part of Bratva's future under his rule would be eliminated. But only after they had been made an example of. Kingdoms had been built on bloody battle fields for thousands of years. He would settle for nothing less.

 

The shooting at the wedding reception had been just the beginning, a calling card of sorts. He had barely escaped and still marveled that he had accomplished such a feat. He had made his intentions clear that day. Now it was time to stop the threats and exact his revenge.

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Twelve

 

 

"What the fuck, Oleg!?" Roksana roared as she glared at her husband. "You grazed my arm with that fucking slasher. 'Think you keep the damn thing sharp enough? I'll never understand why you need a knife that big, unless you plan on gutting somebody. Hey, that's an idea; we could gut somebody and tie their intestines in knots. I wonder what they look like in real life. And feeling them in our hands, that would be cool."