Heart of My Monster: A Dark Mafia Romance (Monster Trilogy Book 3)

Apparently, Kirill’s plan all along was to bring me here.

It’s been a week since we got to this cabin, and he’s refusing to leave.

Honestly, I don’t think I want to leave either. But unlike him, I can’t completely disregard the real-life problems waiting for us out there.

Kirill should be the one who’s more concerned about that, considering he’s the Pakhan and all. He’s new in the role, too, so he can’t afford to stay away from the action while depending on Viktor, who’s his only source as to what’s happening out there.

That doesn’t seem to deter him, though.

Not even a little.

He’s more concerned about fucking me every chance he gets. I’d be lying if I said I don’t enjoy being cornered by him all day long. I’ve been weirdly horny lately, and he indulges me whenever possible.

Kirill has always had an animalistic sex drive, but I never thought it’d get worse.

Not only does he view every opportunity as a chance to fuck my brains out, but he also doesn’t finish and goes on and on until I’m spent, motionless, and on the verge of collapsing.

I think he does that so he’ll have the chance to help me shower and bathe and then make me sleep cocooned in his arms.

And the greatest miracle? He’s actually been sleeping. Every night. Sometimes with his head on my chest. Other times with my head on his.

He doesn’t sleep the whole night, but he does get his few much-needed hours of rest.

Part of the reason why I’m willingly here, aside from the fact that he took me to see Anton again a few days ago, is the surreal change I’m witnessing in him.

It’s like I’m in the company of a completely different Kirill, but not really.

He’s the same enigmatic, slightly—okay, very much—unhinged man who’s a distrustful manipulator with a beef with the world. But during the time I’ve spent with him in this cabin, I’ve discovered that he’s…more.

For instance, he likes to cook and he’s actually damn good at it. He says it’s because when they were children, he liked to make Konstantin and Karina’s favorite dishes.

Since he’s Kirill, he’d never admit that deep down, he has a caretaker, protector side to him. Not everyone is entitled to that privilege, but the few who belong to that list get his unconditional support.

I was happy to see his relationship with Konstantin improve tremendously after he married Kristina. When I brought that subject up, Kirill was like, “I was only interested in the business transaction.”

He’s such a liar. If that were the case, he wouldn’t have gone out of his way to lie for them and make sure they got married on the spot in case Igor changed his mind.

During the past few days, he’s been so amicable, it’s a little scary.

He’s offered to teach me how to cook since I’ve always mentioned I wanted to learn how. He brings me flowers every morning, then places them in a vase.

No kidding. Kirill, who kills for sport, is picking flowers for me like some doting lover.

Sometimes, we talk until late into the night. Other times, we go hiking until we reach the peak and then he watches me scream at the top of my lungs with a huge grin on his face.

He’s been giving me deep massages to loosen my muscles. In part, he’s doing it so I’m more energized for the next fucking session, but I take it with gratefulness.

I know these things don’t come naturally to him. He’s putting in the effort for me. He’s letting me see the side of him that I’ve only dreamed of.

Kirill’s time all for myself?

His smiles?

His laughs?

His fooling around?

His whole attention?

Not in my wildest imagination would I have thought this would be possible.

But it is. And it’s starting to terrify the shit out of me.

Every morning, I wake up dreading that the honeymoon phase is over. We’ll have to go back to a world where he’s my family’s enemy.

Every time we go out, a part of me is watching our surroundings, waiting for those men to attack us again.

Just because that didn’t happen today doesn’t mean it won’t happen at all.

And that thought process is driving me crazy.

I don’t want to fall into that naïve hopeful state I was in after we got married, because I know for a fact that everything good comes to an end.

Everything.

But at the same time, I can’t control the overwhelming happiness that I’m bursting with.

The need for more.

The urge to let go. Just for a while.

Unfortunately for me and no matter how much I try to fight it, Kirill is still the only person I’ve ever wanted to have for myself.

Not for duty. Not for family. Not for revenge.

Just someone for me.

I get a bit too excited for our morning routine, which is to basically exercise together. I’ve managed to punch him a few times, but those are few and far between.

He doesn’t shy away from taking me down whenever he has the chance.

I come down the stairs in my workout clothes. Today, I decided to wear only a sports bra and my tight shorts that have one of those seams to define my ass.

Not that I’m trying to seduce him or anything. Okay, maybe a little.

I bought them the other day when we went shopping in the nearest town—which is an hour’s walk away.

It’s about two weeks until Christmas, so the entire town was buzzing with lights, decorations, and excitement. My heart hurt at the reminder of last Christmas, which I didn’t get the chance to celebrate. However, I loved seeing people happy.

Kirill, on the other hand, was not impressed and kept judging the whole joyful atmosphere like a grinch.

Since we were carrying a lot of bags, we had to hitch a ride on a farmer’s truck on the way back. The driver might have checked me out for a second too long and I had to stop Kirill from putting a bullet in the poor man’s head.

Back to the present. Usually, he wakes me up with the flowers of the day, but today, he didn’t. Though I did wake up a bit earlier than usual.

I pause when I reach the bottom of the stairs. Fresh flowers sit prettily in a vase on the dining table.

So he did come back.

I sniff them, then take a picture of them and a selfie while holding them and send it to Karina.

Sasha: My flowers for the day.

She replies right away.

Karina: Ugh. He’s doing all the right things to keep you away from me. I’m gonna stab him to death next time I see him.

I smile as I type back my reply.

Sasha: We’ll come back eventually. We can’t exactly stay here forever.

Karina: Bet you want to, though.

If I were sure my brother would be released and wouldn’t start any trouble, yes. But right now, the situation just feels like a disaster waiting to happen.

The calm before the storm.

The good thing is that there’s no torture. When we visited them again a few days ago, Anton and Maksim were just glaring at each other from opposite ends of the room.

Sasha: Don’t be silly. Of course I want to come back.

Karina: Please do. I miss you! Not Kirill, though.

I shake my head.

I swear this family can’t survive without a display of tough love. They should get an award in the art.

After taking a few more pictures of the flowers, I leave them and my phone on the table and head outside.

My steps come to a halt when I find another man who’s not Kirill standing in the garden.

“Viktor?”

The mountain of a man turns around, raises a brow, probably not used to me dressing this way, before he schools his expression and nods. “Mrs. Morozova.”

I tap his shoulder teasingly. “What’s with being polite all of a sudden? Call me Sasha, or Aleksandra since you’re allergic to the diminutive form.”

“You’re the boss’s wife. I’ll call you by your official title.”

I roll my eyes. “You call him Kirill when you’re mad at him.”

“I’ll call you by your name when I’m mad at you.”

Jeez. He’s an unbending asshole.

And yet I’ve always felt that Kirill is safe as long as Viktor is there. And while I hated that he could probably protect him better than I could, I’m glad Viktor wouldn’t let anything happen to him.

“Where is he?” I search around him as if a six-three muscled man is some sort of a needle in a haystack that can’t be spotted right away.

“He’s checking something.”

“What’s the something?”

He raises a brow. “I’m under no obligation to report his actions to you.”

“You’re really an asshole, did you know that? It wouldn’t hurt anyone if you just answered the question.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.”

I cross my arms and stand taller, which is a bit pointless since Viktor is way bigger in height and build. “You have a problem with me?”

“My,” he says in a robotic, deadpan tone. “What makes you think that? The fact that you’ve been spying on him? Or how you nearly got him killed in Russia? Or maybe, just maybe, the fact that you’re doing it all over again now?”

I briefly close my eyes. “The Russia incident wasn’t intentional and if I‘d wanted him dead, I would’ve killed him when I came back.”

“So you just shot him in the arm?”

My lips part. “Did he tell you that?”

“No. He said that one of the soldiers got him, but I suspected that wasn’t the case. He wouldn’t let himself be shot that easily unless it was either someone he was close to or he allowed it. Now, I’ve confirmed that it was you.”

“I…thought that…”

“What? He’d married someone else? Tried to kill you and your family? You were so sure without even attempting to talk to him about it.”

I purse my lips, then click my tongue. “I wasn’t exactly in the right state of mind.”

“And you think he was? He’d just found out you were alive after burying you with his own hands. You believe he was prepared to see you back?”

My gulp gets stuck at the back of my throat and I stare at him for a few beats, not knowing what to say. On one hand, I can’t fault what he pointed out, but on the other, he didn’t experience the emotions I did after I had to go back to Russia.

The feelings of betrayal, rage, and utter despair. Hell, even longing was there. I missed Kirill so much, and I hated myself for it every day.

Viktor steps forward. “I’m warning you. If you attempt to hurt him again, I won’t give a fuck that he forgives you. I will kill you and permanently remove you from his life, Aleksandra.”

I lift my chin. “I’d like to see you try.”

“Don’t make me. I witnessed how he turned into a ghost of his former self after your alleged death, but I’d rather have that instead of burying him myself.”

“I don’t want him hurt or dead, Viktor.”

“Your track record doesn’t work in your favor. I’m going to need something more convincing than mere words.”

“I’ll prove it to you.”

“Prove what?”

My spine jerks upright at Kirill’s deep voice. Anyone else would’ve only heard the closed-off tone, but I can easily detect the rage simmering beneath the surface.

His arm wraps around the small of my back, eliciting sharp goosebumps on my naked skin.

I stare up at him and wish I hadn’t. His face is sharp angles of disapproval. An unprecedented storm whirls in his eyes, darkening them to a raging blue.

And those eyes are now directed at Viktor. “What will my wife prove to you?”

The guard merely lifts a shoulder. “Why don’t you ask her?”

“I’m asking you, and if you don’t start giving me answers in the next breath, I’m going to confiscate all your air until you spit out your last.”

“It’s nothing.” I place an unsteady hand on his chest.

I’ve been in so much bliss lately that I almost forgot just how scary he can get.

“I’ll decide whether it’s nothing or something once I hear the details.”

“She said she doesn’t want you to be hurt and I said I don’t believe her, considering her spying and conspiratorial past, so she offered to prove it.”

I stare at Viktor, mouth parted. The bastard just spilled it all out without sparing any detail. Not that I should be surprised, but I thought he’d at least spare me the embarrassment.

“I’m out of here,” Viktor announces before he turns and leaves without waiting for a reply.

He must’ve driven here and left the car at the main dirt road, which is a couple minutes’ walk.

Kirill’s expression doesn’t change, despite Viktor’s secret-exposing session. If anything, the look in his eyes gets darker, his pupils nearly swallowing the irises.

I try to smile, though carefully. “Are you up for that match?”

“You look different.”

My cheeks turn red without my permission. “Good different?”

“Bad.”

“Fuck you,” I whisper.

He digs his fingers into my arm. “Did you dress this way once you spotted Viktor? Didn’t know he was your type.”

“Maybe he is.” I lift my chin.

“Is that so?” His lips curve in a smile, but it’s more like a scary smirk. I don’t like it when he’s all calm like this. It’s a sure way to know that he’s plotting something nefarious.

“Yeah. I decided to keep my options open for when we divorce.” I know I’m provoking him, but he did it first.

I dressed up for him and the fucking prick is making me feel bad.

One moment I’m standing there and the next, he’s grabbing me by the throat, his fingers pressing on the sides so that I’m immobilized.

“You need to learn when to shut the fuck up, Sasha.”

I hit his hand and kick at his leg, but he barely allows me to move.

It’s always a damn struggle with this man. It’s like I’m fighting a bull with no chance of winning.

“Let me go, you asshole,” I strain with the little breath I have left.

“Understand this, wife.” He speaks so close to my face, his mouth almost touches my cheek. “There are no options for you other than me. If you keep insisting there are, I will make you watch as I slaughter each and every one of them.”

Something is definitely wrong with me. Otherwise, why the hell are his savage touch and crazy words turning the temperature in my body up a notch?

Maybe I’m as screwed up as he is.

Maybe the reason I fell for him in the first place was because he speaks to the demented part of me I didn’t know existed.

He pushes me back, but I fall on the grass, so it isn’t much of a hit. He’s been manhandling and throwing me around so much lately that I’m always expecting some sort of a thud.

“Seems like you need a reminder of who the fuck you belong to.” He hovers over me like an angry god, his chest rising and falling heavily. His thin gray shirt sticks to his muscles, leaving little to the imagination.

He pulls down my shorts and I hiss in a breath as the fabric creates friction against my swollen clit.

He throws the shorts aside. “You’re even wearing nothing under them.”

“You told me not to.”

He slaps my pussy and I jerk. Holy shit. Is that supposed to feel so good?

“Shhh. Not another fucking word, Sasha.”

“Fuck you.”

He slaps my pussy again and then rubs my clit. My head rolls back as my core throbs to life.

I think I’m going to come, but he suddenly removes his fingers.

“Which part of shut the fuck up do you not understand, hmm?” He hovers over me so that his knees are on either side of my head and yanks me up by a handful of my hair. Pain explodes in my scalp, but I don’t have time to focus on that as he frees his cock and shoves my face against his groin. “Seems that I need to fuck that mouth to make you.”

I part my lips to say something, but he uses the chance to thrust inside. His cock hits the back of my throat and he keeps it there.

I stare up at him as tears well along my lids and my gag reflex kicks in.

I can’t breathe.

I can’t fucking breathe.

“These are the eyes I want to look at. They look like mine.”

He pulls out only to thrust in again. With his fingers digging into my skull, he uses his grip to steer my head and fuck my mouth. I don’t even try to suck him. That’s not what he wants right now. He needs to dominate me, use me, and the unhinged look in his eyes makes my inner thighs sticky with arousal.

“That’s it, Solnyshko. Make my cock hard and wet so I can stick it up your cunt.”

It should seem weird that he’s using my nickname while treating me like a whore, but it’s far from it.

I gag and choke on his cock and he thrusts his hips forward, making me take him as deep as I can. My own hips jerk, needing a touch, just a tiny stimulation and I’ll come.

When he pulls out, saliva and tears cling to my face, but he barely allows me a breath of air before he slams back in. One of his hands fists my hair and the other nearly covers my whole face, smearing it with tears and my drool.

I reach a hand between my legs, but he releases my face and slaps my achy nipples, then wrenches my hand away. “Did being used make you hot and horny, wife?” He slides out of my mouth. “Tell me to fuck you.”

I splutter and choke on my breaths. My lungs burn due to the lack of air and my vision is blurry.

“Fuck you,” I whisper.

He offers me a heart-stopping smirk. “Good enough.”

He settles between my legs, parts them further, then wraps both of his hands around my neck.

Not sure if it’s the breath deprivation, the fact that I’m all sticky down there, or the state he put me in by fucking my mouth—or maybe it’s a combination of everything. But the moment he thrusts inside, I come.

It’s a sharp but strong orgasm that jerks my whole body. I want to scream, but it’s impossible with his savage grip on my throat. For a moment, I think I’ll die while he’s fucking the living shit out of me.

“Your cunt knows exactly who she belongs to, Solnyshko. She doesn’t need any other options but my cock, now does she?”

My back lifts off the ground and I grab two handfuls of grass just to stay rooted.

“You’re mine.” He squeezes harder and fucks me deeper, hitting my sensitive spot again and again. “Only fucking mine.”

I think I’m going to come again, but he suddenly pulls out and releases my neck. A groan of frustration leaves my lips and he lets out a sadistic chuckle.

He flips me onto my stomach without warning and lifts me up so I’m on all fours, then pushes me down so my ass is in the air.

I feel him kneeling behind me, the warmth of his body a welcome reprieve against the chill of the outside world. While no one actually comes here, the fact remains that he’s fucking me in public, and that adds a great sense of exhilaration to my arousal.

Kirill parts my ass cheeks and drags my wetness from my slit to my back hole. I tense, my heart jackhammering. “W-what are you doing?”

“Owning every inch of you. Your ass is begging to be claimed.” He spits on my hole and for some reason, it’s so hot, I gulp.

We’ve done a lot of anal play before and over the past week, but he’s never fucked me there.

Now that the moment has come, I’m taken by a sense of dread. I reach out a trembling hand and clutch his wrist. “Wait…wait.”

“I’m done waiting.”

“But…”

“Shhh…” he says in a surprisingly soothing tone and slaps my ass cheek then spits on my throbbing back hole.

I gasp, my thighs shaking, and he uses the chance to thrust the crown inside.

Oh, God.

I’m wet, but it’s still painful.

The second inch follows and I let out a sob. “Kirill, please…it hurts…”

“Shhh…you’re taking my cock like a very good girl, Solnyshko.”

My lips tremble and I dig my nails into the grass and dirt. He reaches a hand down and rubs my clit in pleasurable circles. “Don’t push me out. Relax.”

I lower my back and force myself to relax, and then he goes all the way in. The stretch is so sharp that I cry out, but the pain is soon replaced with pleasure as he keeps stimulating my clit in slow, almost soothing circles.

“You’re such a good girl, wife.”

“Luchik…” I don’t mean to say his nickname, but now that I did, I can’t take it back.

His pace picks up at that and he growls, “Say that again.”

“Luchik, please.”

“Please what?”

“Fuck me.”

He slaps my ass and rams into it while thrusting three fingers into my pussy. “We can’t have my cunt feeling left out.”

The sensation of being completely filled leaves me breathless, wanting—no, needing—the release.

I don’t think I’ve ever felt so needy in my whole life.

I push back against him, my ass cheeks creating a slapping sound against his thighs and groin.

He spanks my ass then sinks his fingers into the flesh. “You’ll never wear these clothes for anyone but me. I’m the only one who gets to look at you like this. Fuck you like this. Own you like this.”

“Stop being crazy…”

He grips a handful of my hair and flings me up so that my back is against his chest and turns my head to speak directly against my mouth. “You should know by now that I’m a fucking lunatic when it comes to you. Don’t fucking test me.”

He pumps harder into me, and this time, I scream as I come around his cock and fingers.

Kirill kisses me through it, my tongue wars with his even as he suffocates me.

He knows exactly how tight I get when he steals my breath and he never shies away from repeating the move over and over again.

But if I’d hoped he’d be done, I’m proved utterly wrong.

He throws me back down on the grass again, ass in the air, and keeps going at a maddening pace.

On.

And on.

And on.

Until I nearly faint.

Until I can’t think of the sentence “it’s only physical” anymore.

There’s definitely nothing purely physical about this.