5. Chapter 5

5

Dimitri

Y EBAT' MENYA.

My inhale is a harsh drag, like drawing smoke through a tight filter.

What the fuck is this suka doing here, grinding her ass in this cesspool for men?

Fucking hell, she should be anywhere but here, shaking her tits for sleazy bastards.

I can feel the rage pumping through my blood.

The image of her slicing and dicing her way through a room full of Aleks's goons, a goddamn force of nature, makes my cock pulse still. It's where I've pumped myself fast and hard when I've thought of her wild, crazy look for the past years.

Fuck, I've wondered where that suka disappeared to.

Not that I give a flying fuck, but she had a way of crawling under my skin like a fucking rash. And seeing her now, shaking her tits on stage like some common whore… it's pissing me off in ways I don't want to think about.

I shake my head like a dog trying to dry off, but the fog won't fucking clear. Yanking out my phone, I pretend to check the time. My fingers are so tense I nearly crack the damn screen.

" Yob tvoyu mat, " I mutter, shoving it back in my pocket like it's burned me.

Tsk. Get it together, D!

What am I, some pimply-faced teenager who can't control his dick?

I grab my glass, but it's empty. Fucking fantastic. I wave at the waitress, probably looking like I'm having a seizure. When she doesn't notice, I consider throwing the glass at her head. That might improve her service.

Dammit . The last thing I want is to get Wren's attention. But my eyes keep drifting back to her like she's a fucking siren, luring me to my doom. Can't let her see me watching her like a goddamn hawk.

Wren … she's always been a thorn in my side. My cock might be hard as a fucking rock watching her, but that's just biology. It doesn't mean shit. I'll rub one out later thinking about those tits, that ass, but that's as far as it goes.

Fuck me.

I'm seeing red for no fucking reason.

Seeing her acting like another piece of meat on display for the highest bidder. It doesn't sit right, doesn't mesh with the image of her I've carried in my head all this time.

She hasn't seen me yet, too focused on her routine, on working the room like the pro I'm sure she is. But it's only a matter of time before our eyes meet, before the past comes crashing into the present like a fucking freight train.

I shift on the couch, thinking it'll distract me from Wren, but I'm dead wrong. It's like the whole fucking room's disappeared, and it's just me and her.

She struts up, that red bikini making her tan skin glow like she's on fire. Blyat , my cock's so hard it could cut diamonds.

The opening riff of "Pour Some Sugar On Me" blasts through the speakers. What the fuck? Who plays this shit? Oh, right, we're in a sleazy strip joint. The bass thumps through the room, vibrating in my chest.

Blyat, suck my fucking balls.

The way she moves on that stage… it's like watching a goddamn snake charmer.

Every twist of her hips, every roll of that tight little body, it's pure sex. Her tits are out, bouncing and taunting, and that ass… Christ, I imagine sinking my hard cock between those luscious cheeks, thrusting deep as I spank her to see the flesh jiggle in response.

Yob tvoyu mat , I can't look away.

Can't even blink.

My jaw clenches tight, every muscle tensed and ready to snap.

She owns that stage, owns every fucking man in this room. Including me, much as I hate to admit it.

My cock is rock hard. I shift again in my seat, trying to adjust myself discreetly. Fucking traitor.

Memories of that night keep flooding back unbidden—her wild eyes, blood-spattered skin, the way she moved like a fucking valkyrie, cutting through those bastards' dicks like they were nothing.

That was raw power, primal and untamed.

My thoughts get interrupted by the most pig-like shriek I've ever heard. I side-eye the fat fuck, disgusted.

"Fuck yeah, baby!" the pig cheers, slamming his empty glass on the table. He's downing drinks like they're fucking water, his tie hanging loose around his sweaty neck. "Now this is what I call a goddamn fine ass show!"

He's practically drooling, his eyes bugging out of his skull as he leers at the girls. It's taking every ounce of my self-control not to slam his fucking face into the table, watch his teeth skitter across the sticky floor like fucking chiclets.

But I need this asshole. Need his connections, his influence. So, I sit there, my jaw clenched so tight I'm surprised my fucking teeth don't crack, and watch as he waves a wad of cash at the girls, trying to entice them over.

The tiny one—the one with the perky tits and the ass that won't quit—she's on him in a second. Crawling across the stage on all fours, her back arched like a fucking cat in heat. The pig is practically panting, shoving bills into her G-string with his fat, greasy fingers.

But my eyes, they're locked on Wren. She's dancing like she's in her own fucking world, like there's no one else in this shithole club but her. Her body moves like liquid sex, all curves and sin, and fuck me if I can look away.

The piggy fucker is getting bold now, tapping his lap, his legs splayed wide. The tiny girl, she straddles him, grinding down on his fucking micro-dick. He's bucking up into her, his hands hovering over her ass, not quite touching. Fucking pathetic.

He throws more cash, and the other girl, the one with the fake tits and the dead eyes, joins in. It's like a fucking live porno, the two of them all over him, moaning and writhing like they're getting paid to.

Which, fuck, they are.

I'm about to hurl my fucking guts up. The sight, the sounds, it's too much. I need air; need to get the fuck out of here before I do something stupid.

I stand abruptly, fishing a cigarette out of my jacket pocket with hands that aren't quite steady.

"Gotta take a piss," I mutter, not even looking at the pig. "Don't fucking wait up."

"Yeah, baby, yeah… Ride my dick," the pig moans, not even listening.

Suka, I can't unsee this shit.

My jaw clenches so hard I taste blood. Eyes burning, I suck in a ragged breath that tastes like puke. Every muscle in my body's coiled tight, ready to snap.

Think I may need to hurl my guts out.

Fuck me, I'd rather watch my babushka take a dump than endure another second of this circus.

I need to bail before I do something I'll regret—like pulverize the pig's face, or worse , march up there and haul Wren out over my shoulder like a caveman.