Nikolai: The Complete Collection

25. Nikolai

25

NIKOLAI

W hen the soap slips from my hand, I curse it as I did Roman’s smug grin when Dok assured me Justine’s faded memories have nothing to do with her fall and everything to do with her mixing anti-anxiety medication with alcohol.

Roman cited the same thing when he busted me sneaking out of Justine’s room, but since he isn’t a doctor, his opinion didn’t count.

My veins will run dry before I’ll ever admit I was wrong, so instead of telling Roman Dok agreed with his assessment, I told him to clean up the mess the Popov housemaids missed before entering the bathroom to have a quick shower. I don’t want to wash Justine’s scent off my skin, but I need to eradicate the funk halving its allure.

So much shit is happening right now—fucked-up crap that should have my cock taking a leave of absence, but no matter how often Roman warns me I’m walking into a tornado with my eyes closed, I can’t get the fucking thing to stand down.

Even now, after placing myself on a flimsy limb to have Justine’s brother transferred to the medium-security prison Justine mentioned last night, I’m as hard as a fucking rock.

Maddox’s transfer is costing me millions, but I’m not worried about the money. Evoking the favor I did is unheard of in my industry, even more so when you are doing it for a man who has ties with your rivals.

Justine thinks Maddox is innocent, however, Roman’s research the last two days reveals his record isn’t as squeaky clean as he wants his family to believe. He wasn’t just cruising by the Petretti compound and happened to stumble upon his sister’s cries for help. He was there, as a participant, only switching from perpetrator to a savior once he realized who was being punished.

He did what needed to be done. He fell at the heel of a man undeserving of his respect, but what he did after that is where he went wrong.

If you take anyone’s debt, no matter how small the liability, you’ll be expected to repay the debt in full.

Maddox only kept one side of the deal.

He killed for Col…

…but he failed to pin his victim’s murder on the appropriate person.

Even with Col dying years ago, until the debt has been fulfilled as cited, Maddox will remain indebted to the Petrettis, which, in turn, means his sister is as well. The thought alone should be enough to soften my cock, but alas, just like I know Justine’s debt won’t remain the Petrettis’ for long, so does my cock.

The situation goes from bad to worse when I replace the insubordinate bar of soap with the shower puff hanging on the outdated faucet. I didn’t add any body wash to the squishy pink puff. I didn’t need to. The suds coating my skin aided in its glide over my body, much less the pre-cum seeping from my cock.

Instead of the shower puff washing Justine’s scent from my skin, it coats me in it. The scent of her floral shower gel mixed with my manly, virile smell has my cock standing at attention as painfully as her delicious mouth.

I could shut off the faucet and pretend my nuts aren’t aching. I could act as if the bathroom has a surveillance device like every other room in Justine’s apartment. But instead of doing either of those things, I wrap my hand around my cock and give it a long, strangled tug, pissed I’m stroking one out in the shower like I’m twelve but loving the responsiveness of my dick.

Even by my hand, this is the best hand job I’ve ever been given.

As my tongue darts out with the hope of sampling a smidge of Justine’s mouth on mine, I pump my fist in rhythm to the pulse I felt between Justine’s legs. It’s a brutally fast pace that would only feel better if each stroke was piercing my cock’s head between Justine’s plump lips. Or better yet, her no doubt tight cunt.

I increase the pressure of my thumb on the vein feeding my cock as a zinging sensation roars through my veins. My cock throbs with want, its need seeping from the crown. After balancing my empty hand on the dated yet spotlessly clean tiled wall, I lower my head under the stream of water. It flattens the hair on my head, glides over my tattooed pecs, then puddles around my fist sliding up and down my shaft.

The fast, frantic pace I stroke my cock has me chasing release even quicker than I did the first time I fucked a girl. I picture Justine standing in front of me, her fingers sunk into the glistening slit between her legs, her eyes closed. She’ll match the strokes of my cock pump for pump, finger-fucking herself as erratically as her cunt is dying to suck at my dick.

I can imagine how the steam from the shower would increase her scent—so sweet and oh-so-tempting. She’d come with a whispered roar like she did on the door, her knees buckling a mere second before I transfer her weight onto my cock.

When I moan, it comes out with a growl. The image in my head is so erotic, my balls tuck in close to my body, preparing for release. While increasing the speed of my pumps, I close my eyes, enhancing the intoxicating visual gripping every inch of my sack. Justine is beautiful as she is, but the image of her peering up at me like she did after we kissed took her sexiness off the Richter scale. There’s not a number high enough to describe the sleepy sex-kitten look her eyes get when she’s on the cusp of ecstasy.

A kiss brought her to the brink of insanity.

A teeny tiny inconsequential kiss.

My kiss.

I thought the drugs my crew sells were the most potent on the market. I had no fucking idea lust is more dangerous than any of the white powders I sell, and that’s before you add Justine’s cock-thickening body into the mix.

I’ve only seen her in a bra and a pair of panties, but my imagination was enticing enough I’m stroking my cock in the shower instead of taking my funk out on my crew’s many whores as I would have only two days ago.

My change in attitude is also why Justine’s apartment is silent. The women I usually go through like underwear were the reason I kicked my men out a little after two this morning. They can be upset about me saying no and be opposed to the idea of me being a one-woman man, but they sure as fuck don’t get to ignore a direct order.

I told them no. I told them I wasn’t interested, but the instant I tiptoed out of Justine’s room, they were on me like the tent my cock was pitching in my jeans was for their shelter.

It fucking wasn’t.

Even now, while rubbing one out in the shower like a loser, their fake tits and surgically altered lips aren’t being featured. All I can see is Justine. Her eyes. Her knee-bowing body. Her kissable, pouty mouth I can’t wait to smear my cum over.

The thought of her peering up at me with cum on her lips is my undoing. I tighten my grip around my shaft before dragging my hand all the way down to the base. My cock pulsates in my palm as it brutally shreds me of any dignity I have left. I come with a growl, my entire body spasming as thick white seed pumps out of the crest of my cock. It’s a never-ending orgasm, the backlog of cum compliments to a thirty-six-hour hard-on. It feels fucking great, even with it occurring without an audience this time around.

As the water jetting out of the showerhead cools, I loosen my grip on my throbbing shaft, but I don’t fully free it from my grip. I give it another three gentler strokes, ensuring not only is every drop of cum pumped from my shaft but also allowing the water rolling off my back time to circle my cum down the drain.