Page 73 of Maxim
By the time Natalya returns, dressed in a pair of Minnie Mouse PJs, which I’m fairly certain she’s wearing because she thinks I’ll be turned off by them - spoiler alert, I’m not - the takeout I ordered has arrived and I have Pretty Woman queued up.
Sasha recommended it as a movie all women love when I messaged him while Natalya was in the shower. If he’s lying to me, I will shoot his dick off tomorrow.
“You need to eat,” I tell Natalya when she looks surprised at the array of food on her kitchen counter.
“I was probably going to have some toast or something,” she says as her cheeks turn pink, reminding me how her ass turned a lovely shade of pink when I spanked it. My dick hardens in my pants and I push the thought back.
Nope. No sex.
“Toast is a snack, not a meal.”
“Err it kind of is a meal when it’s covered in peanut butter and I have five slices,” she argues. I fix her with a hard stare and point at the cartons of Chinese food.
“Eat. If you don’t eat, you don’t get dessert.”
“What’s for dessert?” she asks, scanning the kitchen hopefully. Ah, so my malyshka has a sweet tooth. Noted.
“You’ll see,” I smirk, picturing her legs wrapped around my head with my tongue buried in her cunt. From the way she flushes even more, she reads my mind.
But that won’t happen until I’m 100% sure she understands I’m here for her, not sex.
We each fill a plate with food and then sit down on her lumpy sofa. It’s truly horrible. I want to ask whether she rescued it from a dumpster, but don’t wish to offend her. Maybe I can buy her a new sofa.
The movie begins and I wonder why women find this movie romantic. How is the idea of a rich guy paying a woman for sex romantic? Transactional sex is not romantic. At all. And only high-end hookers look like Julia Roberts.
Not that I spend time with hookers. Why would I need to pay for sex when I can find a woman for free? I snort with amusement as the plot unravels. Natalya throws me a few dirty looks but remains glued to the screen. She even sniffs a bit when the movie ends with Richard fucking Gere rescuing Vivian from a life of prostitution. Yeah right.
A more realistic version of the story would involve Vivian being hooked on drugs and tossed out of a moving limo after she tried to steal Richard Gere’s wallet. Ha.
I decide not to share my thoughts when Natalya starts clearing the remains of our meal away.
“Leave that,” I order. “Get to bed, I’ll tidy up in the morning before I leave.”
“But—”
“No buts, baby. You’re tired. Bed!”
She starts to argue then thinks better of it. Her shoulders slump and she walks away, leaving me to turn off the lights and set the alarm. I send one last text to Sasha letting him know I’m staying here tonight and ignore the flurry of childish emojis he sends back.
Natalya is curled up in bed when I enter the bedroom. Her eyes are closed but she’s still awake. After brushing my teeth with the spare toothbrush she keeps in the bathroom, I strip off and climb into bed beside her.
This bed was a good investment. It’s way more comfortable than the old one. Thank fuck. My dick still wants to bury himself in Natalya’s warm, wet cunt but I ignore him. He’s a horny asshole and we’re not having sex. Not tonight anyway.
Natalya relaxes against me and I slip into sleep feeling better than I have in a while. All the shit going on with the dangerous drugs and assholes messing with my Bratva can wait.
Chapter fifty-two
Nat
“Go on, let me have it.”
Mickey looks at me and shrugs. “Sure.” He glances at the clippers I brought with me. “And then you’ll cut my hair?”
I cringe a little. My hairdressing skills are somewhat lacking. I’m not sure Mickey will be pleased with my efforts, but he decided he didn’t want Jane here. Luckily, YouTube has given me some hints on how to avoid the classic ‘pudding basin’ cut. How hard can it be, right?
“I’ll try,” I hedge, crossing my fingers behind my back. “Not promising anything amazing.” He narrows his eyes but apparently decides I’m being sincere. “You could just ask your mom to take you to a barber’s shop?”
“No.” OK, then.