Relentless Sinner

Chapter 23

Chapter Twenty-Three

Jaxon

One more taste, then we’ll leave.

I hold Gabriella down on the deckchair and lick her sweet pussy lips. I know I shouldn’t have her out on the terrace naked with her legs spread apart and her pussy on show, but I can’t help myself.

It’s the middle of the day when people are usually around and the guards are patrolling. I’m just hoping my staff have acquired the good sense to avoid us when we’re like this. They’ve had two weeks to get used to us and learn that I can’t keep my damn hands or my mouth off my wife.

I’ll kill the man who thinks he can sneak a peek of her. And I don’t care that I should exhibit better sense or that it’s reasonably foreseeable that someone might see us.

I swear I’ve gone insane with this craving to be either buried deep inside my wife or tasting her.

Gabriella moans and does that sexy-as-fuck thing with her breasts she always does when I’m eating out her pussy. She grabs each one and starts massaging the nipples until they’re both ripe and hard, begging to be sucked.

“Jaxon… ahhhh…ummm… ” she hums my name, making it sound sweet, not knowing I’ve mostly been associated with poison to most people.

I love the sound of her pleasure and her voice. They’re a melodious mix that has engraved itself on my soul forever.

I hold her in my hands, feasting away and, like always, I can’t get enough. I always want more of her even on one of the most important days of my life—the day I’m supposed to become the next Pakhan of the Vysotsky Bratva.

We should have left an hour ago to get to my father’s house early for the meet and greet with all the Bratva alliances and officials who have come from Russia.

Now we only have an hour to get there in time for the ceremony.

I’ve dreamed of this day for as long as I can remember and worked my ass off, pushing myself beyond human capacity. But right now nothing is more important to me than the woman in my arms.

I know I’m fucked if I can admit that. And act the way I’ve been acting. No one has seen me for days, yet I delayed our honeymoon by over a month in favor of the work I was supposed to be doing. In the two weeks that have passed I’ve only left the house three times. All of which were to rush through whatever I was doing so I could get back to her.

At least part of my brain is still working, and I know I can’t fuck up today. The plan is to get our clothes back on when she comes. Then I have to become Jaxon Bortsov again.

I just need this one last moment of indulgence with Gabriella because I won’t have her like this until later tonight. And the next few days will be busy.

The ceremony itself will be as long as our wedding, and there will be drinks and socializing well into the evening.

As I couldn’t invite some of my closest friends, like Micah and Cillian, I’m having a party here on Saturday night. Between then and now I’ll be back and forth for business, Bratva and Creed meetings.

Gabriella’s body shudders with an orgasm, pulling my focus back to her just as her delicious nectar flows into my mouth.

I drink her, taking long sips of heaven while I run my hands up her body and help her massage her breasts.

I don’t stop drinking until there’s nothing left, and even when it’s all gone I lick around her clit like I’m cleaning remnants of delicious food from a platter.

“Jaxon, we’re going to be late,” she mutters in that sultry voice that speaks of the pleasure I’ve given her.

“Not the way I drive.”

Her eyes widen. “You can’t drive us there.”

“Why not?” I know exactly what she means. She thinks we won’t reach our destination because I keep getting sidetracked by her.

“We’ve gotten dressed six times and look at us. What if something happens and we end up doing this again when you’re driving?”

She tries to get up and find her dress but I grab her hands and pin them over her head.

“If it happens, it happens.” I lean down on her and gaze into her beautiful eyes. “This is just a ceremony. If I choose not to go because I want to fuck my wife, everyone will just have to accept that.”

They would. They wouldn’t like it and I’m sure my father would find the strength to shoot my balls off, but even he would have to bend the knee and accept whatever I wished to do. All the formalities are done, so on paper I’m already Pakhan.

Still, I respect formalities and tradition. Things have already been shuffled around to accommodate my father’s illness. Usually the ceremony would be held at the manor house in Boston. I will be the only Pakhan who won’t have received his welcoming there. It’s a small price to pay considering I was the man who wasn’t supposed to have a chance.

Eric told me that today would be the most important day for me as the new leader. It would be the one the men would remember for time to come.

All the men who saw my father become Pakhan will be there, along with their wives, sons, nephews and even grandsons.

I am the symbol of strength for them and this is my legacy.

“I’m going to let you go now,” I tell her, planting a kiss on her soft lips.

“Are you?”

I smile at her, and she smiles back. “Don’t you want me to?”

“No.”

The conversation and her answer feel like an extension of the one we shared on our wedding night when I spoke about letting her go.

She’s here now. Still here. But I know there’s a lot between us that needs to be worked out. At the core are our feelings. I know we’re trapped in one of those wild sexual bubbles that snares newlyweds when they can’t get enough of each other.

Once the haze clears we’ll be left with reality, and she’ll have to accept that she doesn’t hate me.

Until then I don’t want to get off this ride.

Instead of letting her go I kiss her and savor all the ways she feels like mine.

We reach my father’s house in record time, getting there with enough time to socialize before we have to head into the hall.

The only person who likely gives a damn that we’re late is my father, but he doesn’t say anything. If this were the past he would have chewed my ass out and given me a few choice words that would ruin the day.

That said, years ago, I did everything to please him. Now I don’t.

At this moment I give myself credit for being able to switch back into business mode and be a Pakhan.

Image is everything. Especially here. One of the most meaningful things I learned from my father is to never give anyone anything to talk about and never show weakness. Ever.

I learned the latter mostly from him.

Here in the viper’s den where the men search for some sort of frailty, they’re like sharks sniffing for blood.

I’m also aware of the growing threat inside my family that has been quiet for far too long. It’s been several weeks since I discovered Damian was working with the cartel. Nothing has happened since.

I have eyes on him, Levka, and Magnus, but nobody’s seen or heard anything. Usually when things go quiet it’s because the enemy is planning when to strike and how hard to hit.

Quite possibly, they could try something here. Even though they’d be foolish to with so many officials around and the place swarming with guards. Still, I never make the mistake of underestimating anyone.

We enter the hall where the ceremony will take place. There are about two hundred people here filling the seats that have been positioned in rows.

My family are all at the front.

I will sit next to Gabriella until my father calls me forward.

He is sitting at the head of the room next to Levka and Eric, representing the current leadership. When I join them I will take my father’s seat.

Father clears his throat and a blanket of silence spreads over the room.

He starts speaking, swapping between English and Russian. He almost sounds like his usual self, until he doesn’t, then his illness becomes quite noticeable when he pauses for far too long.

I know he’s forgotten what he was saying. The look on his face is pitiful. So are the expressions on many of the men around me.

My father hates pity of any kind, so I know he wouldn’t want them to look at him that way.

He seems to remember what he was saying and picks up like nothing happened.

Soon he calls me forward and I leave Gabriella’s side, walking with pride toward my future.

I stop by the table with the plaque displaying our family crest; a golden eagle carrying a dagger in its claws.

Father stares at me for a moment and for the first time in all my life, he’s not looking at me like I’m beneath him. Or the thing that killed his wife.

He’s supposed to wheel his chair toward me but to my surprise he rests his hands on the arms and lifts himself up to stand.

I glance at Eric, who instantly looks worried. No one has seen my father walk in months. The last time I saw him he was only able to take a few steps before he collapsed on the ground and needed help to get back into the chair. Help he refused from me. It was only Eric who was allowed to help him.

I never thought my father would take such a risk today of all days and in front of all these people. But I shouldn’t really be surprised.

These are the last steps he will take as the renowned Ilya Bortsov, Pakhan of the Vysotsky Bratva. A man known throughout the formidable empire he built.

He steps toward me, his eyes solely focused on me. For a moment he seems to be walking normally, then his steps falter, his breath catches, and there’s a noticeable tremor through his frail body. But he keeps going.

Whatever willpower he’s summoned keeps going until he reaches me, then he stops.

“ My sobralis' zdes' segodnya, chtoby stat' svidetelyami vosstaniya novogo imperatora ,” he opens, telling our gathering they’re here to witness the rising of a new emperor.

Few things shock me. My father’s choice of word in regard to me— emperor —surpasses everything .

He continues in the same vein, referring to me with respect. Years ago I would have thought this was some kind of joke or trick, but he’s never needed to do anything of the sort. And he doesn’t need to now.

He’s not singing my praises because he’s terrified of dying in a way that’s beyond his control.

This is the real him. He’s being genuine for once in his life.

My father also doesn’t need to act because as fucked up as our relationship is, he knows I’ll protect him.

It’s my flaw. I still have that son’s love for his father even though he was the monster who haunted my nightmares.

I think of my mother, hoping she’s watching. I know Jacob is here watching over me the way he did when he was alive. But my mother…

I hope wherever she is she can witness this important milestone in my life and can see my father on a day when he seems to have acknowledged me as his son.

He finishes his speech and takes off the ring. The ring that all Pakhans before me have worn.

I extend my hand and he slips it on my finger.

“Long may you live and long may you serve, moy syn .” He speaks louder.

“Thank you, Father.” I dip my head.

When he bows his it signifies that the exchange of power is done.

The crowd cheers and there’s a shift in the air.

The feeling of triumph.

I did it .

I’m Pakhan now. The empire is mine.

I face the crowd and look at each of them, those who would follow me until death and those who follow because they must. Then I look at the beautiful girl I married.

She’s looking at me with the pride of a wife.

As I stare back at her I know the answer to Eve’s question now— do I want a business contract or a wife ?

It turned out there was never a gray area and I knew the answer all along.

It wasn’t simply that I wanted Gabriella. I wanted her to be my wife.

But she was a pawn in the plot that got me to this point.

And she still is. That will never be okay.

Because…

Falling in love was never part of the plan but I broke my own rules for her .