Natasha was quiet. “And if I fail?”
There were times when I forgot just how young Natasha was. I had been in her shoes once, and knew how bizarre it felt wearing shoes that your feet didn’t fit into. Natasha was afraid, and rightfully so. Killing your family and assuming your place as queen was no small task.
“Fail? There is no failure for people like us, Natasha,” I answered. “Since you were a child, you’ve shined brighter than everyone else around you. You have been faster and stronger your entire life. The Tarkhanov Bratva will flourish beneath your reign.”
“Tarkhanova Bratva,” Natasha corrected. “When I become queen, it will become the Tarkhanova Bratva.”
I felt my cheeks crinkle as I smiled. “Very well, Queen Tarkhanova. I hope next time we speak, we are not only uncle and niece but also fellow king and queen.”
“Keep your family out of Moscow, Uncle.”
“Likewise.”
Before she hung up, she said quickly, “Thank you, Uncle Kostya…I–I always considered you more my father than Papa, and if you’re half as good a father to Nikolai than you are to me, then Nikolai is very lucky.”
The dial tone sounded before I could respond, but Natasha didn’t need me to reply. Her final words had been a message, not a question.
I let myself be drawn into another conversation about studs and mares. My niece’s words hung in my mind, circling around and around. I spoke about money and breeds, but my words were robotic and practiced. All I was able to truly to focus on was the turmoil inside of me.
Patience, I reminded myself. Patience.
During the discussion, Artyom invited Elena into the conversation. She reluctantly accepted, positioning herself between us both. The owners and investors tried to draw her into conversation, but her replies were thorny or non-existent and soon they left her alone.
Her scent filled my senses. That sharp but alluring smell of myrrh and cinnamon. It fogged my mind, sending my thoughts into a rumbled frenzy. Only Elena had this effect over me; only she held this power.
“–my mare is currently undergoing testing for the breeding program.” Milton Thomasson, a very wealthy man who had made his fortune on Wall Street and in breeding horses, was talking. “Her mother had three blue-ribbon winning colts–”
I rested my hand on Elena’s lower back. She didn’t flee or snap at me; instead she stepped closer, pressing herself into my side. Electricity thrummed from the places where our skin met.
“–Starlight Dancer won three titles in his day. He will make a good stud for any mare, and produce lots of winners–”
My hand slowly dragged lower and lower, until I could feel the flesh of her ass beneath the fabric of her dress. She smiled into her champagne as I squeezed.
“–I heard Hilarion Troitsky is ready to stud. He’s a very successful horse and I can only imagine how much you’re putting him up for. I’d make millions off his sperm–”
I dropped my hand off, and she snapped her eyes to me. Why did you do that, her expression demanded.
I just smiled.
She started slightly as I slipped my hand beneath her waistband, skin against skin. Goosebumps rose along her lower back as I brought my hand down lower and lower, until my fingers raked over her bare ass.
“How is your mare’s pregnancy? Have you had an ultrasound done? Do you know if you’ve got a filly or colt yet? Since Hilarion is no longer racing, I imagine you’re hoping for a colt. If you don’t get one–”
Elena surprised me by adjusting her position, inevitably moving my hand closer to the more sensitive parts of her. My fingers slid under the lacy panties, allowing me better access to her warm flesh. A sharp breath left her as I dragged my finger down her pink slit.
“I heard Justina Wirtz is studding her stallion next year. What’s his name again? Whatever his name, he’ll be a hefty price. He’s got the best breeding money can buy–”
I watched her expression from the corner of my eye as I circled my nail around her ring. Her lips pressed tightly, her nostrils flaring. She was lucky we were in public–it reduced how much I could actually do to her.
“–some British Duke is meant to be looking for a stallion. I overheard Ren Baylis talking about it–”
Her ass cheeks clenched as I moved further down. To stop myself from groaning, I sipped at my drink, but all my thoughts were of Elena’s juices as the champagne slid down my throat.
She pressed her thighs together as I pressed up on her core with the tips of my fingers, feeling the warmth and wetness that slid over my skin. She was filled with desire and lust, her want for me evident between her legs. Her knuckles went white around the stem of her glass as I teased behind her pussy.
“It’s a shame the weather has been so wet. It’s having an effect on the horse’s performance. Not my colts, of course, but their mother had strong sturdy legs–”
I slid one digit inside of her, relishing at the feel of her hot wet insides. My finger curled around her most sensitive area, and I was rewarded by seeing Elena’s eyes pop. She looked to me as I slid another digit inside, her chest rising and falling sharply. I felt her tightness low in my gut.
I only smiled and took another sip of my drink.
“Did you say what your mare is having again? You’re in search of a new colt, aren’t you? For next season? I think Andrew Waynes’s mare is going to give birth soon to a male–”
So as not to arouse suspicion, I slowly pumped my fingers inside her, even if my gut urged me to go faster and take more. She grew wetter around me, the slickness dripping down my palm. I could feel her insides clenching, her pleasure rising like the tide.
Elena’s lips parted as another breath left her but she did a good job at not revealing anything on her face. Except for a muscle twitching on her neck, Elena was the perfect image of calm.
I wondered if I could destroy that.
When I was satisfied she was aroused enough, I slid a third finger inside of her. She contracted around me, thighs and knees quivering as the pleasure rocked through her. A little moan tried to escape past her lips, but she smothered it beneath a cough.
“It’s a shame you never got a foal out of Basil the Blessed. Though, you had Hilarion at the time, so I’m sure it wasn’t too much loss–”
Elena was beginning to feel tortured. I could see her lips thinning, hear her teeth grinding together. When I caught her eyes, lust twisted in the green depths like a serpent. She clenched her thighs and unclenched them to try and relieve the building pressure, but there was no relief.
I pushed my fingers against pressing down on her G-spot.
Her champagne glass shattered into a thousand pieces as it hit the ground. Shouts spread as liquid soaked shoes and sharp glass scattered over the floor.
I slid my fingers out of Elena, pulling her skirt back into place.
Artyom was sending me a disapproving look. Which was ironic, since Artyom used to believe it was his life’s purpose to see how many ballet intermissions he could fuck Roksana in.
“Are you okay, Elena?” I asked.
She looked down at her smashed glass, cheeks bright red with embarrassment and pleasure. No glass had cut her, I checked.
“Fine. Sorry.” She stepped back, ignoring the other patrons who asked if she was okay. “Excuse me. I…I need to go to the bathroom.”