6. Chapter 6

six

Leonid

I 'm dead serious about finding out who the fuck runs this joint.

But my cock has other ideas, itching to be inside Little Red Riding Cock’s tight little cunt.

Blyat , that’s a goddamn problem.

I’m seconds away from saying, “fuck the mission,” and chasing after her when Maksim materializes at my side.

Because right now, the last thing I need is to draw attention to myself. Everyone’s too busy fucking and sucking, lost in their own depraved little worlds. Suka ! That’s exactly how I want it. With Red.

I’m rock hard, and all I can think of is Little Red Riding Cock standing at the perch on the balcony. A fucking goddess.

“Down boy,” I sneer at my cock.

As if sensing my gaze, she turns.

The way our eyes lock, the club’s dim lights casting shadows over her face. Her stare is fierce, challenging, daring me to come over.

Chert voz’mi , I want to.

I want to stalk over there, wrap my fist in that glorious mane of hair, and yank her head back to crush my mouth against hers. Want to rip that flimsy dress to shreds and put my hands and mouth all over her, map every inch of that lush body with my tongue until she’s writhing against me.

I imagine bending her over the railing, spreading her wide, and sinking into her balls-deep in one hard thrust. Pounding into her tight, wet heat while she moans and screams for all the club to hear, not giving a fuck who sees us.

I grit my teeth hard enough to crack molars, fighting to get myself under control. I can’t let this little cock tease throw me off my game. There’s too much riding on tonight.

Fuck. My body betrays me. I tilt my glass toward her in a mocking salute.

Then she smiles back. Correction , more like she smirks. A predatory twist of her red lips. Like I’m a juicy steak, and she’s a starving lioness ready to pounce.

Blyat , I’ve never been on this end of the hunt before.

My cock’s so fucking hard it could hammer nails, throbbing like a motherfucker. I wanna charge up those stairs and show Ms. Red Riding Cock just what I can do with my tongue.

But some bitch grabs my shoulder before I can make a move.

“Hey, need some company?”

I glance over at a brunette poured into a dress so tight it looks painted on. Tits, ass, dick-sucking lips—the holy trinity. Any other night, I’d already have her bent over the bar.

But now? I barely fucking register her.

“Fuck off,” I snarl, eyes still glued to the balcony.

“Don’t be like that, baby,” she purrs, rubbing her tits on my arm like a cat in heat. “I can make you feel real good.”

I’m a second from telling her to go choke on a dick when I see Red turn and strut out of sight,

Son of a whore.

“Gonna check things out,” I grunt to Maksim, not waiting for a response.

I shove past the brunette so hard she almost eats floor. Ignoring her bitching, I bolt for the stairs, taking them three at a time. Blood’s pounding in my ears, drowning out the shitty techno.

I head upstairs to the private room, ready to tear the place apart with my bare fucking hands.

But Red? Nowhere to be seen.

Shit. What the fuck is wrong with me?

I’ve never reacted this way to any bitch before, no matter how hot. But something about Red down there… Blyat, she’s got me by the balls, and she fucking knows it.

I’m about to head back down and show her exactly what she’s doing to me when some suka in a skintight leotard and a fucking strap-on prances up to me.

“Excuse me, sir, this area is reserved for our VIP guests,” she simpers, batting her fake-ass lashes. “Perhaps I could interest you in a private room where we could—”

“Did you see a woman in a red dress?” I cut her off, eyes moving over the room.

The waitress blinks, thrown off her game. “I… I’m not sure, I…”

I don’t wait for her to finish, already scanning the room like I’m searching for an enemy sniper. No flash of red, no mouthwatering curves. Nothing.

Where the fuck did she go?

Then I see her, back down at the bar like she never left. Perched on a stool, legs crossed, all prim and proper like she’s at a fucking garden party and not a sex club.

And she’s pounding champagne like it’s her job, a different unlucky bastard trying his luck, sidling up to her all slick and shit.

I can already tell how this is gonna go…

He’ll shoot his shot, thinking he’s hot stuff. And Red? She’ll crush his balls like fucking grapes and laugh in his face while she does it.

I watch as Red deals with the chump trying to get in her pants.

I raise my eyebrow, a smirk tugging at my lips as she twists the fucker’s arm behind his back, putting him in his place. Boy, does she look hot doing it, too, all fierce and fiery .

My kinda woman.

Blyat , what I wouldn’t give to watch her do it up close.

From the balcony, I see a few men; they’re watching her, too. These pricks lurking around the edges of the club; they aren’t here to get their dicks wet.

I know that look. They’re on a mission, same as me.

Question is, what the fuck does Little Miss Red Dress have to do with it?

I lean on the railing, my eyes glued to her, trying to suss her out. The way she moves, the way she holds herself… This isn’t some rich bitch party girl blowing Daddy’s money on a wild night out. No, there’s an edge to her. Something deadly under all that cocky bravado.

My gaze trails over her, catching on the mile-long legs barely covered by that fuck-me dress. What I wouldn’t give to have those thighs wrapped around my head while I eat her sweet little cunt until she screams…

Red’s barely got a second to savor her victory over the first loser before another suit slides up, smooth as the booze she’s throwing back like water.

They’re talking, him laying it on thick, her cool as the fucking ice in that champagne bucket. But there’s something in the way he looks at her, the way he leans in close… I don’t like it.

I fucking hate it.

She’s mine.

Before I turn and head down, I see the bartender slip something into her drink. She’s too busy flirting with the asshole in the suit to notice.

Icy dread trickles down my spine as she raises the glass to her lips. Fuck. I’m moving before I can think, shoving my way to the stairs, my heart pounding out a staccato beat.

If those mudaks tampered with her drink, if they’re planning to hurt her…

I’ll fucking kill them. Tear them apart with my bare hands.

But as I hit the main floor, shouldering my way through the throng of bodies, I see her body go limp, staggering like she’s about to hit the floor. And there, at her side, a new piece of shit, pawing at her, trying to lead her away.

Blyat , I’m too late.

Red stumbles as she stands, and the slimy fucker slips an arm around her waist, guiding her toward the back of the club.

Toward the private rooms.

I’m seconds away from whipping out my hidden knife and slicing off the skank’s arms when I feel a hand on my shoulder.

“I think I know who runs this place, boss.”

Maksim. His face is grim, tense.

I shrug him off, my focus laser-locked on Red’s retreating form. “Not now.”

“Boss, it can’t wait. It’s about the—”

“I said, not fucking now!”

I wrench away from him, my pulse roaring in my ears as I stalk after Red and the man, every muscle in my body coiled tight, ready to snap.

I’m not letting that beautiful, feisty cyka out of my sight.

But she’s already vanishing behind the door.