Vladislav Mikhailov’s pov I don’t believe in fate. Never have. Life is about power, decisions, and control. That’s how I’ve lived for over forty-five years. But that belief shatters the second I glance from my VIP balcony and spot her—Little Babochka, laughing at the bar, too close to some fucker.Rage coils through me like a serpent. I’m moving before I register it, down the stairs, across the room, slicing through the bodies on the dance floor until I’m there—beside her, reclaiming what’s mine. I am currently leading her, more like dragging her to the dance floor, my hand never leaving the small of her back. She's tense beneath my touch, but she follows, step by reluctant step.The lights above shift—deep red, gold, shadows. The air smells of sweat, spilled liquor, and danger. But beneath it all, I still catch it—her. Soft, warm, familiar Jasmine scent. Like rain before a storm.And then, as if the universe is mocking me, the DJ transitions to “Too Much” by Daniel Caesar ft. H.E.R.
Caitlyn’s pov The ringing of my phone slices through the silence of my apartment. My gaze flickers to the screen. My step dad's name glows against the dark background.“Hey, Dad.”“Caitlyn,” his voice is warm, grounding me in the middle of the chaos swirling in my head. “How’s my favorite munchkin doing?”“I’m good,” I lie, my eyes locked on the untouched dinner in front of me.He exhales heavily, the doubt in his voice unmistakable. “You sure? You sound off.”I almost laugh at the absurdity of the question. Am I okay? No. I haven’t been okay for a while. Not since that night. Not since him.A part of me wants to tell him. Wants to unload everything onto the one person who has never turned his back on me. But the words lodge in my throat, suffocating me.“I’m fine, Dad. Just the usual work, life.” The words feel like an empty reassurance meant more for myself than for him.“I—” I swallow hard, glancing at the TV where a random Korean drama flickers across the screen. The voices blur
Vladislav pov The heavy clang of the metallic prison doors followed by the brutal clank of the lock into place reverberates through the corridor—a sound that reminds me of the cage that I called home for the past three months. Long enough that I had started to lose my shit.But I knew better, I had to make my enemies think that they had won this time, but they were wrong.I have men everywhere, even in the fucking government, men loyal to me, bound by their royal hearts to me. And, of course, some are not loyal to me; many want to take me down and take my place as the pakhan, but for them to succeed, they will have to eliminate each and every one of my men first. And this….this was just a facade I had put on as my men hunted the rat that dared infiltrate my Bratva. I run my hands through my dark hair; my jaw clench as I roll my shoulders, feeling the tension crack down my spine as I step forward with the pristine Italian shoes that I have paired with my black suit—custom-tailored,
Caitlyn’s POV“Ease up for me slut, your mouth is fucking small for my dick,” and with those words I submit opening my mouth wide that my jaws fucking hurt, my panties grow warm with my juices that drip more with those dirty words, which I surprisingly like and enjoy more by being treated like a dirty whore.“I'm gonna cum down this goddamn throat. I want to stuff your throat with my cum,” He jerks a few powerful strokes and I feel his cock swell inside my mouth, and a salty taste explodes in my mouth, and I gulp it down my throat. Once he is done emptying himself into me, he releases my hair and gathers the mixture of his cum and my saliva that was dripping from the side of my lips using his middle and ring finger before jamming it back into my mouth. His fingers choke me, forcing me to swallow the very last drop of his cum, “I want you to swallow every drop of my cum.”He pulls his fingers from my mouth and then uses them to tuck my hair behind my ear while his free hand runs its
Caitlyn’s POVIt isn’t big—it is huge. And that is only semi-hard. How much bigger can it even get?I swallow hard, my throat suddenly dries up. My gaze drifts to the tip of his cock, which is already glistening with pre-cum.Very sensitive! He clicks his tongue, amusement flickering in his hazel eyes, wagging his finger, “Tsk. You’re staring, doc.”Then, sharper, “Hands. Mouth. Now.”And that’s when it registers to me—I am already too far gone.What the hell has gotten into me?I don’t know what kind of ghouls have possessed me, but I find my hands reaching out to touch his now fully hard dick, tensing at the way it throbs with my mere touch as I try to wrap both my hands around the thick shaft as that is the only way I could get his dick wrapped up—I mean the whole fucking length.With both hands! Crazy right? I gulp hard as I stare down at the head that is glistening with pre-cum. “Lick the tip, bitch. And use your hands too,” he hisses those dirty words that made my pussy drip
Caitlyn’s POV “I… I…” I am about to reply to Serg, but my phone interrupts me, the sharp ring shattering the thick silence between us. I flinch, the sound far too loud for my liking. For a moment, I consider ignoring it—letting it ring out while I demand answers, scream, cry, something—but my hand moves on instinct, swiping it and pressing it to my ear. My boss’ voice come bubbles through the phone-steady and firm, “Sorry to bother you, but I’m calling to remind you about your new appointment at the prison.” The prison. I blink, my mind struggling to catch up. Right. The assessment. My new patient. His scheduled release is next month. The files the secretary left on my desk this afternoon. Oh no! I inhale sharply. “I’ve got it covered. I’m on my way.” Sergey watches me as I start the engine. “Cat, are you really just going to leave?” I glance at him, something cold settling in my chest. “Yeah. No time to mope around. Some of us don’t have Daddy’s money to throw around on w
Caitlyn’s POVI grin dreamily as Sergey strides into the café. I can tell my boyfriend comes from wealth—He exudes effortless wealth, from the crisp designer clothes draped over him to the diamond watch that catches the light with every move. And then there’s Niko—his abso-fucking-lutely ruthless bodyguard, always a step behind, Sergey’s personal shadow. Appointed by his father to "keep him safe." From what? I have no idea.“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Sergey murmurs, his lips brushing my forehead as he hands me a bouquet of carnations, their scent flooding my senses. My chest flutters. God, he’s perfect.Sergey isn’t just my boyfriend; he’s the kind of man you read about in books, the one who texts you goodnight just to make sure you’re dreaming of him. The one who pulls you into his arms during a rainstorm, whispering something devastatingly poetic, and somehow makes you believe that kind of love was real, like it’s a tangible thing. He was my fairytale, my dream spun into real