When the Rabbi’s entourage realizes that he’s dead, a riot erupts.
His trainer, his cutman, his cousin, and several men who look to be brothers of Anastasia all start shouting at the Beast and his team, and Krupin as well. The trainer gets too close to Krupin. Yakov shoves him back, so hard that he stumbles. The biggest of Anastasia’s brothers charges at the Beast, while several other fighters from the Orthodox Club try to hold him back.
In seconds, the conflict dissolves into a frenzied brawl.
I jump up into the ring, seizing the pregnant Anastasia. I drag her away from the Rabbi’s body, shoving her into Boom Boom’s arms instead. I shout, “Get her out of here!”
Anastasia is fighting, trying to get back to the Rabbi. Trying to be as careful as he can despite her flailing arms, Boom Boom carries her toward the closest exit.
I jump down myself, looking wildly around for Sasha.
Shots ring out.
Women start screaming, and there’s a mad rush as the crowd tries to exit the warehouse en masse. It’s utter chaos—people shoving and trampling each other, VIP tables turned over, and beer bottles shattering. One of the bleachers collapses, with dozens of people still trying to climb down the risers. Many more are crushed underneath.
I catch sight of Sasha, crouched down at the base of the ring, trying not to be swept away in the rush of panicked spectators.
I shove my way toward her, against the flow of people. I grab Sasha and I throw her over my shoulder, so she’s above the crowd. Then I barrel through them, not caring who I crush.
The spectators are jammed up against the front doors, a human bottleneck of far too many people packed into a space never designed for this.
The Rabbi’s friends are still brawling with Krupin and Stepanov’s men—I see several bodies on the floor, but I don’t know who was shot, or if those are people trampled by the crowd.
There’s no way out at the front. I head toward the back of the building, trusting that there must be another exit. I can’t see Boom Boom and Anastasia, or Meyer. I hope they got out quickly or found another way.
I can feel Sasha’s racing heart, thudding against my shoulder. She’s holding tight to my neck, but she’s not sobbing or screaming. She trusts me to get her out of here.
I thread my way through the jumble of abandoned equipment at the back of the warehouse, finally finding a steel door set in the wall. It’s locked, but I break the rusted bolt with one kick. The door swings open, letting us out.
The night air is cold and fresh. It feels like water in the desert, after the panicked heat of the warehouse. I drink it in, jogging across the pavement with Sasha still slung over my shoulder.
I don’t set her down until we’re three blocks away at least, too far to hear shrieks and shouts anymore.
When I put her down, I see that Sasha is shaking with fright and cold. She left her coat in the infirmary.
I strip off my hoodie and wrap it around her. Then I wrap my arms around her, too.
“Are you alright?” I ask her.
Her eyes are full of tears as she looks up at me.
“He died!” she cries. “The Beast killed him!”
“I know,” I say.
I’m filled with sick rage, remembering the last blow. The Beast had already beaten the Rabbi, easily. There was no reason for it.
“Did you know him?” Sasha asks.
“Yes,” I say. “He was my friend.”
She blinks, tears running down both cheeks.
“I’m so sorry,” she says.
I nod. I start to say something—maybe to tell her that he knew it was a risk, that all boxers take that risk on some level when they step into the ring. But I can’t speak around the swelling in my throat.
I think of Anastasia. I think of the Rabbi’s child that he’ll never get to meet.
“Why did he do it?” Sasha asks.
She means, why did the Rabbi try to fight the Beast.
“I don’t know,” I say. “Maybe he thought he could win. Maybe he only hoped.”
Hope can be a dangerous thing.
“Are you going to fight the Beast?” she asks quietly.
“Yes,” I say. “If the tournament’s still on.”
Sasha turns away from me. But not before I see the fear in her face.
“I don’t think he’s human,” she says.
“He’s human,” I assure her. “For better or for worse.”
I draw her back under my arm, because she’s still shivering. We walk side by side, trying to get back to a part of the city where we can find a cab.
When we’ve found a ride, I tell the driver to take Sasha home. But she says, “No, go to Kupchino, please.”
I’m surprised, but relieved. I badly want her company still.
Once I’ve let her into my apartment, I ask her if she wants a shower.
Sasha looks down at her clothing, realizing that her blouse is stained with the Rabbi’s blood. Her lips tremble and I think she’s going to cry again, but she gets control of herself.
“Yes,” she says. “Can I borrow some clothes, too?”
She undresses where she stands, stripping off the blouse and pants that were dirtied in the stampede, and stained by spilled drinks, too.
I feel awful about the Rabbi. But I can’t help letting my eyes linger on Sasha’s luscious figure as it’s unveiled once more. Her full breasts hang down in the cups of her bra while she bends to slip off her trousers, then settle into place again when she stands upright once more.
I want her worse than ever. In fact, I need her. How can you live thirty years without someone, and then in the space of a week they become more vital to you than food, or water, or even air?
She sees me watching her. Looking me in the eye, she reaches around behind herself to unclasp her bra. She pulls the straps down off her arms, dropping it to the floor. She pulls down her panties as well, stepping out of them to stand nude before me.
I’ve never seen a body quite like hers. Her curves are insanely proportioned—they draw men’s eyes everywhere she goes, no matter how she tries to cover up. In an era of skinny girls, she looks like a 1950s bombshell.
Naked, it’s almost too much to bear.
Her breasts are heavy, full, and unutterably soft, with dusky pink nipples. Her waist nips in at the sides, flaring out again to beautifully full hips and a gorgeous round ass.
With her long silvery hair loose around her shoulders, she looks like a painting of Aphrodite: the picture of health, beauty, and fertility.
That’s how my body responds to her.
My cock instantly stiffens inside my shorts, begging, aching, demanding to find its way inside of her again. I feel driven to fuck her, over and over and over again. My body wants that, and nothing else. No other goal seems half as important.
I swear I can smell the musky sweetness of her pussy from across the room. I remember exactly how good she tasted, how I wanted to lick her up like melted ice cream for hours on end.
I want it again now.
But she’s turning toward the bathroom.
I follow her in, showing her how to turn on the shower. It makes a shuddering sound before finally providing a fitful spray of water. It takes even longer for that water to actually run warm.
Finally, the tiny bathroom begins to fill with steam. As she steps under the spray, Sasha grabs my hand and says, “Come on.”
She doesn’t have to ask me twice. I strip off my clothes, eager to join her.
I barely fit in the shower myself, let alone with another person. But it’s good—I want to be pressed close against her, the water streaming down over our naked bodies.
Sasha tilts up her chin and stands on tiptoe to kiss me. Her lips are already warm and swollen from the hot shower.
Her hands are warm, too. She slides them over my chest, down my sides. She finds my cock, which is rigidly pressed against her belly.
I groan as her warm, wet hand encircles it. She strokes it gently, and I put my much larger hand over hers and squeeze hard, because I’m aching so badly, I can barely stand it.
Sasha gets down on her knees in front of me.
“You don’t have to do that,” I tell her.
She looks up at me with her beautiful blue eyes.
“I want to make you feel better,” she says.
God, I want that too. So, so badly.
“Have you ever sucked a cock before?” I ask her.
I’m curious. I’m sure a thousand men have imagined her doing it to them.
Sasha shakes her head. Her cheeks are flushed from the hot steam, little droplets beading in her eyelashes. Her lips look dark pink and fuller than ever.
“Will you teach me?” she asks.
“Open your mouth,” I say.
She opens her mouth just a little. I slide the head of my cock around her full, swollen lips. Those soft lips feel phenomenal against the sensitive head.
“Put out your tongue,” I tell her.
Sasha extends her little pink tongue. I rest the head of my cock on top of it, rubbing her tongue against the underside in the little divot where the shaft meets the head.
I moan. Clear fluid leaks out of the head, onto Sasha’s tongue. She pulls her tongue back into her mouth, swallowing, so she can taste it.
“Do you like it?” I ask her.
She nods, blushing all the more.
She opens her mouth again, wider this time. I slide a little more of my cock inside, careful not to gag her. It’s good to do this in the shower the first time, because my cock is already wet and well-lubricated. It slides easily in and out of her mouth.
As she gets used to it, I start to thrust a little deeper into her mouth. Sasha grips my thighs with her hands, even sliding her hands up to my ass.
It feels phenomenal, like nothing I’ve experienced before. Half the girls who blew me before were sloppy drunk, and the other half treated it like a job, working their mouths like pistons to try to get me off as quickly as possible.
Sasha is doing this for my pleasure, but also out of curiosity and interest. She’s experimenting with different speeds and pressures, sucking and bobbing. She’s flicking her tongue under my cock and sucking on the head. She’s looking up at my face, trying to see what feels the best for me.
I love seeing her innocent blue eyes staring up at me, while her gorgeous, full lips are wrapped around my cock. It’s the most erotic sight imaginable.
I’ve never hooked up in the shower before, either. The heat and moisture are incredibly useful. They heighten each sensation, as well as highlighting the signs of arousal in Sasha’s face and body. Her pale skin is suffused with a rosy glow. Her mouth is wet and eager. Her eyes are locked onto mine.
I’m trying to keep my pace slow and gentle, but I’m so aroused that it’s hard to control myself. I take her head between my hands and thrust deeper still. I go too far, and she chokes, pulling back and gagging a little.
“Sorry,” I say.
“Don’t be sorry,” Sasha says. “Is that what feels good? Going deeper?”
“Yes,” I say.
“Keep going, then,” she says.
She takes my cock in her mouth once more. I thrust in and out of her lips. I can feel a massive climax building, one that I’m afraid is going to be overwhelming for her.
“I’m gonna cum,” I warn her.
She only increases her speed, doing her best to take my cock as deeply into her mouth as she can, which is still only about halfway, but feels fucking fantastic all the same.
The climax happens without warning. It bursts out of me, a rushing torrent of pleasure that I could no more stop than I could singlehandedly hold back the Sayano dam.
It’s so enervating that my legs go weak. I have to grab hold of the shower rod so I don’t fall over.
Sasha is doing her best to keep sucking, but she’s definitely choking now, as what I’ve unleashed overfills her mouth and spills out on the shower floor.
“Sorry,” she says, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.
I pull her to her feet, wrapping her up in my arms once more, beneath the beating shower spray.
“Are you crazy?” I say. “That was the best blow job of my life.”
She laughs. “You’re just being nice.”
“I’m not nice,” I tell her seriously. “I’m honest.”
“Good,” she says. “I like that better,”
I kiss her gently, tasting myself on her lips. She shivers, her mouth more sensitive than ever now.
“Thank you,” I tell her. “I actually do feel better.”
I’m more sorry for the Rabbi than I can say. But it’s impossible to think of anything but Sasha when I’m holding her in my arms.
I’ve never felt like this before.
It frightens me, to care so much about someone.
She’s so much smaller than me, so much more fragile. She’s strong and brave and intelligent, but that doesn’t mean that someone like Krupin or Stepanov couldn’t take her from me with one bullet.
They don’t think she belongs to me at all. They think she belongs to them.
They’re wrong.
I wrap Sasha up in a towel and carry her to my bed. Then I unwrap her once more so I can feast my eyes on her fresh, clean flesh. I love how she smells like my soap and my shampoo now. The scents are slightly altered on her skin—they become lighter and more feminine when mixed with her natural chemistry.
My cock is already growing hard again beneath the towel wrapped round my waist. The oral sex was incredible, but my dick wants to be buried inside Sasha. It won’t settle for anything less.
I part her legs, revealing her pretty little pussy with its tuft of golden-blonde hair.
I run my tongue up the length of her slit, teasing her clit with the tip of my tongue until she squirms with pleasure and squeezes her thighs around my head.
I don’t like how the shower has washed away some of her natural taste, but I do like how remarkably wet she is already. I plunge a finger inside of her. It slides in and out easily, making her moan. She obviously enjoyed getting down on her knees to suck my cock.
“You naughty little thing,” I growl. “You enjoyed doing that, didn’t you?”
“Yes,” Sasha admits. “I like how it felt in my mouth. And I like the noises you make.”
“Not half as many as you’re going to make,” I say, diving down between her legs again.
I lick her pussy until she’s right on the edge of orgasm. Just when she’s beginning to moan and squirm and clench on my finger, I thrust my cock inside of her instead.
Sasha screams out loud as I pound into her. I ride her hard and fast, forcing out a climax that’s much more powerful than what I could provide with my tongue.
When she’s done, I flip her over so I can fuck her from behind. I haven’t gotten near enough of a view of this gorgeous, full, milky-white ass. Its two round globes seem to swallow up my cock, Sasha’s waist looking impossibly small by comparison.
Her ass is so pale and flawless that I can’t resist giving it a sharp smack with the palm of my hand. It leaves a vivid red print in the shape of my fingers.
Sasha squeals. The sound makes me want to smack her again. I leave several more handprints on her beautiful bottom, until both cheeks are glowing red.
I thought it might be hard for me to cum again, but actually I’m having the opposite problem. Sasha’s blend of innocence and naughtiness is intoxicating. I want to give her every carnal pleasure under the sun, anything she’s dreamed or never even imagined.
On top of that, her nubile body is the headiest of aphrodisiacs. The look and feel, the taste and smell of her, all combine to create the most powerful compulsion to fuck that I’ve ever experienced. I can already feel my balls boiling, aching to unload inside of her again.
First, I want to make her cum one more time.
So, I roll over on my back and pull her on top of me.
I can tell she’s less comfortable without me in charge. She doesn’t know how to move on top of me. She gets that pink blush in her cheeks that I’m coming to love more than anything in the world.
There’s never been a more beautiful sight than this woman riding me. I reach up to cup her ripe, full breasts. She leans over so they fill my hands, moaning at my touch. I caress them softly at first, then a little harder, seeing which she likes better. She rides me faster the rougher I am with her, so I pinch her nipples, making her gasp and buck her hips.
I grab her around the waist, my hands going almost all the way around her. I pull her down tight against me, grinding her pelvis against mine so her clit rubs hard against my belly and my cock is buried all the way inside of her.
She’s moving naturally now, doing what feels best to her, without any consideration for how she looks, or whether she’s doing it “right.” This is the most beautiful thing of all, the look of her face when she’s lost in wild abandon, her silvery hair streaming down around her shoulders, her breasts bouncing, her white teeth buried in that full bottom lip.
She throws back her head, screaming out loud as she cums for the second time. I don’t have to hold back anymore, and it’s a good fucking thing, because I can already feel my balls contracting in response. I give one last upward thrust, letting go.
Then I experience the longest, slowest, deepest orgasm of my life.
I keep my eyes open the whole time, because I don’t want to miss a second of looking at Sasha.
She’s still in the throes of her own climax, floating off in outer space, eyes closed, head thrown back.
But then, as if she can feel me looking at her, her blue eyes open and look down into mine. She leans forward again, even farther this time, so our faces are only inches apart, and her hair is like a curtain around us.
I never, never, never want this moment to end.
I don’t want to let go of her. I don’t want her to leave. I don’t want her to be anywhere that isn’t with me.
I’ve never felt this before, but I know exactly what it is.
“I love you.”
Right while I’m thinking it, I say it out loud. I let the words cross the bridge of air between us.
I see the shock in her eyes.
But also, belief.
Because she knows I’m not kind. I’m only honest.
I kiss her again, so she doesn’t feel like she has to say anything back. We kiss for so long that eventually we fall asleep, still wrapped in each other’s arms.
