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At His Mercy

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Damian Volkov

My name is Damian Volkov.

I'm thirty-five years old and belong to one of the most powerful mafias in existence.

To the world, I'm a magnate.

A respectable businessman.

That's just a mask.

I checked into the same hotel as always. I had meetings with important associates and had just arrived from another country.

"Damian, your room is ready," Ernesto, my right hand, informed me.

I took the key without a word. I needed to change.

"Everything's been checked," he added. "Although it seems a staff member was still finishing up in the bathroom."

I didn't respond.

I walked straight to the room.

I went in and headed to the bathroom.

My clothes were wrinkled, stained from the trip.

When I came out with my suit hanging from the hook, I noticed Ernesto wasn't moving.

He was pale.

Staring at the couch.

I followed his gaze.

There was a woman sleeping there.

Barefoot.

Her heels were tossed to one side.

"Who is she?" I asked, without emotion.

Ernesto raised his hands, nervous.

"Get her out," I ordered. "When I come back, I don't want to see her here."

I left, irritated. My patience is limited.

The meeting dragged on.

Money, agreements, tension.

The same as always, though my thoughts were elsewhere.

There was noise in the adjacent room.

"I don't want any disturbances," I told the manager.

He resolved it immediately.

The deal closed.

Ernesto appeared afterward.

"The young woman left. She said she wasn't feeling well."

I nodded without interest.

Past midnight, Lori arrived.

She always showed up when I was in this country. She sat beside me, too confident.

I decided to go upstairs with her.

Already in the room, while she began undressing, I heard a noise above. Instinctively, I reached for my weapon.

I went up cautiously. I opened the door to the main bedroom.

There she was.

The same young woman.

Asleep.

In my bed.

I holstered my weapon. I shook her.

"Wake up."

"Let me sleep..." she murmured.

Fury burned through me and I went back downstairs.

Lori got dressed when she saw my anger and left without a word.

I tried calling Ernesto.

No answer.

I went back upstairs.

I wasn't about to leave a place I was paying for.

I tried to lift her. She pushed me away.

My head was pounding.

I stepped out onto the balcony and lit a cigar.

When I returned, she was sitting up in bed.

"Get out," I told her.

She lay back down and laughed.

I lowered my voice. I moved closer.

"Out."

She raised her hand as if she wanted to touch me. I caught her wrist.

I studied her up close. She was young. Too young. Small. Fragile.

She rubbed her arms as if she were cold.

And then... she threw herself at me.

A messy kiss.

A mistake.

I pushed her away... but something in me responded before reason could.

I stopped to look at her and, in the next instant, she lunged at me again. I wanted to shove her aside, but the clumsy kiss she gave me made me pull her against me to show her what a real kiss was — one that left her breathless, pulling away just to gasp for air.

A grave mistake she'd just made: first mistake, breaking into my room, and the second was tempting me like this.

I pressed her down against the mattress and she only stroked my arms, her eyes still closed.

I kissed her again and she offered her neck, which I bit, making her whimper.

"What are you doing?"

She said it, but there was no turning back now — I couldn't contain myself. I felt her slender body beneath me, her body calling to me.

I caressed her legs without stopping the kiss.

"Take me."

She whispered it, and between kisses, I settled between her thighs. Her lips were so different — I'd never kissed any like hers before.

She radiated sweetness.

I moved my hand to her panties, which I pulled off, then to her core, and my fingers slipped at how wet she was.

I stroked her, making her moan, biting her lip.

From my wallet I pulled out a condom — I never did it without protection.

I pulled down my pants and boxers, freed my cock, rolled on the condom, and positioned myself between her legs again. She was more than ready.

I slid inside her, and at first she winced — expected, given my size wasn't exactly average.

I entered slowly, with great effort, because she was impossibly tight, and the feeling of breaking through something as I pushed all the way in made me press my forehead against her shoulder.

She was a virgin.

"It hurts."

She said it, opening her eyes, and I noticed they were green.

The only thing I could think was that she'd been a virgin, and a stranger had just taken that from her.

Her entrance was so soft and tight I couldn't stop.

"Ahh, slow down, ahh."

She dug her nails into me, and the way she wrapped her legs around my hips, signaling me to keep going, made me quicken my pace.

Her pussy clenched tighter when she came, and I wasn't even halfway there. I could have any woman I wanted beneath me, but I didn't know what I'd been thinking when I pushed inside this girl. It was hard to stop, but I decided to pull away. I removed the condom and noticed the blood left on it.

She pulled her dress back down and swatted at the space beside her with her eyes closed.

"Lie down with me."

"Who does she think I am to do such a thing?"

I fixed my pants and cursed the moment I'd spread her legs. The ache in my head didn't compare to the one in my cock since I hadn't finished — and I wasn't about to, not with someone who had barely opened her eyes. I noticed the missed call from Ernesto.

When I finally separated from her, reality crashed down.

I stepped away.

The silence was heavy.

She pulled the covers over herself and spoke in a low voice.

"Stay..."

I didn't respond. I got dressed. My head throbbed violently.

I looked at my phone.

Missed call from Ernesto.

I called him back.

"Do you know who the young woman in your room was?" he asked without preamble.

I looked toward the bed.

"No."