From Russia With Loathing

Part 23

Anastasiya

I trace the tattoo on Viktor's chest with my finger. The skull with flowers takes up most of the space on his chest.

It's early morning. Viktor and I have spent three consecutive nights together. I have lost count of the number of times we've had sex.

We haven't talked anymore about 'us'. We have spent the last 50 some hours bing watching a new British crime drama and having sex.

"How many tattoos do you have?"

"I've lost count." His voice is deep and groggy. It's sexy as fuck. "My right arm started out with just a few, and then I eventually just started filling it all in." He brings his arm up to the light. It's completely covered from his collarbone to his wrist. A few of the tattoos have color, but most don't.

"I've kinda started doing that with my left." He puts his left arm up. The bottom part, his wrist to elbow, is full. There is a two headed bird covering his shoulder. "I have four on my back, three on my front, and a few on each leg."

"Why? Do they all have certain meanings? Or," I trail off.

"Some of them do. Most of them don't. I guess at the time I just wanted to ... get them." There is something in his voice. He doesn't want to talk about it.

There are scars of all shapes and sizes mixed in with, or on top of, his tattoos.

"What happened here." I run my finger across a long scar on his abdomen.

"Someone stabbed me." He says nonchalantly.

"What about this one." I point to the round scar directly under that one.

He rolls over, tightly wrapping I his arms around me. I let out a tiny squeal. He nestles his face into my neck.

"Why do you have so many questions about my skin. And why so early in the morning."

I run my fingers through his hair. It is surprisingly soft. "I don't know. I've never met someone with so little clean skin." I laugh.

"Well, I've never meet someone with so much 'clean skin'" He runs his lips lightly across my chest, shoulder to shoulder, along my collarbone.

"I hate needles." I laugh.

"I know. I had to stitch you up." He says quietly.

I pull his hair lightly, forcing him to look up at me. I softly kiss him on the lips.

"Thank you."

He kisses me back.

A buzzing noise coming from the nightstand breaks us out of our bubble. Viktor groans as he breaks away from me, reaching for his phone. He taps his fingers on the screen a few times before putting it back down.

"My father is flying in today. He lands in a few hours." He rolls back into my arms. He know I like the weight of him on top of me. He is like my own heated weighted blanket. I snuggle down under him.

"I thought he wouldn't be back for a few more months?"

"He decided to come home early... to help take care of... everything going on." He chooses his words. I know he is talking about the incident. Vladimir must be coming home to help deal with everything.

Part of me feels a little better about everything going on. My father doesn't care what happens to me. He only cares about his sons and the organization. Nothing is ever his fault when it comes to me, it's always mine.

Vladimir seems different. He doesn't act like my father when he is around me. Unlike my father, Vladimir acknowledges my presence and treats me like a real person.

"He told me he is bringing a surprise with him. I don't know if I'm supposed to tell you or not. He didn't tell me what it was, he just said it was a surprise."

"Do you miss Russia?" I ask him.

"Why?" He looks at me questionably.

"I don't know. Do you ever go home?" I realize how little I know about him.

"Sometimes, I guess, I miss it. I miss the long, beautiful, winters the most. Winters here are just grey slush. And I miss the mountains. I was still young when I moved here. I've lived in the states longer then I ever lived there. And when we moved here, things were pretty bad back in Russia." He doesn't elaborate. "I've gone home a few times, but I usually don't stay very long."

I realization of some sort hits me. "What happens when your father dies?"

"I take over as the head of the family, an I become the boss. I become the Pakhan." He studies my face, trying to figure out what I'm thinking.

Viktor kisses me on the forehead. "Don't worry malyshka, my father isn't that old. And he is in perfect health. I am not taking over anytime soon." He continues kissing me. Behind my ear and down my neck, he lingers around my breasts before going down further.

When he gets to my stomach, my head starts to get cloudy. "And live in Russia?" I ask before we are completely lost in each other and I forget.

The thought of living in Russia....

Could I live in Russia?

Nope. No way. I could never.

Viktor stops kissing me and looks up. He sighs and rests his forehead on my stomach. I know he doesn't want to talk about it because the truth will start a fight between us.

"New York is just a hub for the organization. I know my father spends a lot of time here, but he lives in Russia. I moved here because my father wanted me to have a better education. And he wanted Geno and I to be raised like brothers so we would be better leaders."

That would be a yes. Viktor moves back up to my face. He kisses me and then looks me in the eyes.

"Please don't overthink about it right now. I am not taking over for my father for a while. Plus, dealing with Sasha and Gregor, and now you, is enough of a headache. I don't need anymore right now." He smirks.

"Now, back to what we were doing." Viktor kisses me hard on the lips. "My father will be here in two hours. I had planned on going slow, and taking my time fucking you." He cups my right breast before pinching my nipple. I close my eyes and let out a moan. "But now we are just going to have to see how many times I can make you cum in the next 90 minutes."