Yuri Volkov Novels & Stories

His beady little eyes undressing me as he spoke. "That's not it, last week the las we had thrown into the ring with those two creatures and was devoured in two minutes flat. She was a looker, bigger tits than this one too." The Woman who had a hold of my right arm threw in. Her thick Scottish accent made it hard to understand her completely. "Ahh, yes, that's very true. I can't believe I forgot about her." Leon looked up dreamily. This guy is so disgusting. "Sit," Ivan ordered, finally turning his attention to me. I was shoved forward and slammed down into the wooden bench.

It was the dossier he’d requested on Lev Volkov. Lev Volkov was twenty-six years old, six foot three inches and around two hundred pounds. He was the same height as Dominic but he was a bit bulkier. He’d been born in Russia during a blood moon, which apparently held some mystified significance and he’d disappeared from sight at age fifteen. He kept his dirty blonde hair longish, about two inches below his ears and sported bright blue eyes, much like Gage’s.

I love this guy. Vote and comment :)

Good, they know better than to show any sign of weakness. I stopped right in front of them, my eyes already assessing their physic. They were just four that stood out from thousands of fights that took place the past months. “Name and country.” The first one to step out was a tall but sturdy man that looked to be in his late twenties. His blonde hair was shaved to a buzz cut and had several tattoos that littered his skin. “Yuri, Russia.” The next man stepped out and he seemed to be a teenager at most nnineteen to twenty one years old with watchful eyes and long jet black hair that was tied in a low bun.

People who understood that in war, you did whatever it took to win. His finger hovered over a name: Alexei Volkov. Former Russian military. Current private contractor. No moral compass to speak of, but utterly reliable if the price was right. Victor had used him once before, years ago, for a situation that required discretion and zero questions asked. He pressed call. Volkov answered on the third ring. "Da?" "It's Victor Russo. I have a job for you." "What kind of job?" "The kind that requires your particular skills." Victor moved back to the window, looking out over the city. "And absolute discretion."

He replied. "I wonder if my dad is looking down at me," I wondered, then faced Alessandro, who I could barely see in the dark, but I saw a slight glint in his eye from the light of the alarm clock beside me. "He's proud of you, love," He whispered in a sleepy voice. "If you don't mind me asking, how did your father die?" I sighed. "He was shot by Russians, apparently some dude named Ivan Petrov. I've been trying to locate him for some time now but he kept moving from place to place so I gave up and just dealt with it, I guess"

Vogar took off his clothes. My core throbbed harder at the sight of his thick, huge veiny cock. I had missed having a cock fuck my asshole. The last time I had a man touch me was a week ago. He was one of Leo’s men. He wasn’t as big as Vogar, but he quite did a good job in making me find my release.

In the center of the floor sat a heavy oak table, illuminated by a single overhead lamp that carved the room into sharp planes of light and shadow. Viktor Volkov sat at the head, surrounded by monitors displaying live satellite feeds of every major port in the Atlantic. He was a man of sixty, with silver hair cropped close to a skull that bore the jagged white line of an old knife wound from his days in the gulags. He didn't stand when they approached; he simply watched them with eyes that had seen the end of the world and found it boring. "Dominic Thorne," Viktor rumbled, his voice like stones grinding in a riverbed. "I heard you traded your bachelorhood for a Vane inheritance. I didn't thi

- collectors of debts, takers of lives. Their presence strikes fear into the hearts of even the most hardened men. Each one a force to be reckoned with, ruthless and merciless. Their rule is absolute, their mercy nonexistent and I'm in love with one of them. Their rule is absolute, their mercy nonexistent and I'm in love with one of them. Viktor Ivanov, the Strategist. Alexei Sokolov, the Ghost, is the most quiet and reserved member but he's as deadly as a viper. Mikhail Volkov, the Butcher or the Volk and then we have Nikolai Rostov, the Punisher.