The Chronicles of Young Dmitry Medlov: Book One Page 4

  Dmitry licked his lips. She looked at him as he slowly advanced towards the rigid, aching nipples that called out to him. His large mouth covered her little breasts, and she let out an exhilarating moan. Lapping her skin, she watched his thick, pink tongue circle her over and over until weak from ecstasy, she bent into his body.

  Dmitry attacked then. He pulled down her pants and ripped her panties. There was something very sexy to him about the act. He liked to think of the tearing of the intimate garments as a sign that once he was finished with a woman, there would be no going back.

  She smiled and bit her lip as she went for his pants as well. Pulling at his belt buckle, she hungrily pulled his pants down to discover that he wasn’t wearing underwear. His erection prodded in her face, pink and pulsing with many thick veins.

  He quickly grabbed the back of her head and pulled her into it. He wanted her to finish what the old woman had started. On her knees in the bed, Alexandria was at just the right height. She slipped the tip of his long penis in her mouth.

  Dmitry closed his eyes and smiled. “Yes,” he whispered. “Kiss it for me. Suck it.”

  Alexandria did so obediently. She took him into her mouth as far as she could, nearly choking. With both hands around his shaft, she looked up at him and giggled. “How much did you miss me?” she asked as she slipped one of her hands in between her legs.

  “Enough,” Dmitry said picking her up.

  This was the complicated part for Dmitry. He hadn’t made love at seven feet tall yet. He was curious to see how they would figure it out, but Alexandria seemed to already know. As he sat on the bed, she quickly mounted him, hovering over his towering erection as she held herself up on her feet.

  “Are you on the pill?” Dmitry asked.

  “No. Do you have a condom?”

  “No.”

  Dmitry pulled her into his kiss and pushed her down on his erection. He was not about to go and get a condom. Their time was slowly dwindling down.

  Alexandria gasped as she felt him inside her. Only half way in, she held herself up to try to work down his penis. But Dmitry was anxious. Placing his hands on her shoulders, he pushed her down on top of him and moaned.

  It was better than sweet. His mouth watered with excitement. He pushed inside of her slowly and reached back to grab a hold of the mattress. It was then that he saw that Alexandria was nearly paralyzed. Her mouth was parted, but he couldn’t tell if it was in rapture or pain.

  “Are you alright?” he asked.

  “Oh...” she panted. “You’re so big.”

  He smiled. “I had a growth spurt all over.” He pushed again. “Does it hurt?”

  She moved slowly. “It hurts and it feels good.”

  “Should I stop?”

  “No,” she said, biting her lip. “Don’t you dare.”

  Dmitry was so turned on by the naked woman and being deprived of sex until he felt a familiar apex approaching. He fought it. Not yet. He could feel the sweat on his forehead. Not yet, he chided himself. He should have masturbated before he came to get her. How could he have forgotten?

  Alexandria was enthralled. Grabbing her aching breasts, she rotated her lips on top of him finally enjoying his over-gracious sex.

  Not yet, Dmitry thought again.

  She bucked on top of him, moaning with her eyes closed. The wetness from her body slid down on his thighs. She screamed out loud and bucked harder against him.

  Not...not...

  He tried to pull her off of him, but he was too long, and it was too quick. Instead, he pulled her closer to him and emptied himself into her. Moving slowly, he jerked and bit his lip. Dammit, maybe she would never know if he just kept going.

  ***

  Ivan and his crew walked down the alleyway banging against the doors and singing. It was their friend’s last night in Moscow, and they had plans to celebrate. They were going to a whorehouse not far from the apartment complex for a little sex and a lot of drugs.

  “I get the heavy one,” Yani said, taking a swig of his vodka.

  “You can have that fat bitch,” Ivan laughed. “She’s as big as a house. Why do you like that, brat? When she sits on you, you disappear.”

  Yani smiled. “I know. It feels amazing.”

  Gistofani walked quietly. The crew was about to break up. And he would be left alone again with no one. Before he had been an outcast, but Ivan had given him something to belong to. He went from being a nerd to gangster in months.

  “What’s the matter?” Ivan asked Gistofani.

  “Your brother doesn’t think I should be here,” Gistofani answered. “He’d probably kick my ass if he knew.”

  Ivan laughed. “He wouldn’t kick your ass. He’d kick all of our asses.” He hit the wall with his bat. “Dmitry’s weird that way. Always giving everyone orders.”

  “Just because I’m Italian?” Gistofani asked.

  “Guess so,” Ivan answered. “But fuck him for now. He’s gone to see his old girlfriend, and I doubt that he’ll make it back for a few hours. First, he’s going to have to beat her fiancé’s ass, and then he has to screw her. So, let’s get laid and high in the mean time.”

  “Sounds good to me,” Yani chimed in. “I want to see Helga.”

  “Ugh,” Ivan shook his head. “She even has a horrible name.”

  “I think her name is beautiful.”

  “You’re a John, dumbass. You’re supposed to think everything she does is beautiful. Why else would you pay her to sit on your face?”

  Yani instantly thought of Ivan’s mother. Everyone knew what she had done for a living; many of their fathers had employed her. He often wondered how that affected Ivan, if that was why he was so crazy. Ivan did the oddest things. He would cut himself for no reason, kill animals, beat the crap out of people, and he never showed remorse. Once, he had heard his brother, Stepan, say that Ivan had a mental problem, that he was a psychopath. But Yani had shrugged it off. What did his brother know?

  Chapter Four

  Alexandria slept tranquilly wrapped in the hotel bedcovers and smiling. Dmitry stood over her fully dressed and torn. He wanted to leave her money, but he knew that he would never see her again and was worried that she might misinterpret his intentions. He didn’t want her to think that he thought she was a whore. But he knew that he had just torn her out of her fiancé’s hands for one night of pleasure.

  It became apparent what he had to do. He must get her set up as a final request to Kirill and go and take care of two things instead of one. Pulling on his coat, he quietly crept out of the room and headed out in the night.

  The snow covered the streets by the time that he left. Driving quietly through downtown, he listened to the radio and thought of what he was leaving behind.

  He wished that he could go back and get her. That he could save her somehow. But he had taken an oath. He had a code to fulfill, and no Vor would take him serious in London if he showed up with a girlfriend.

  Plus, he had so much to do with Ivan. His immaturity was evident and if it were possible, he had some more raising the boy to do.

  Pulling up to his apartment complex, he slipped on his coat and walked through the buildings until he reached fourteen.

  The men who were sitting on the steps before were now out at an old barrel that they had lit a fire inside, drinking and talking.

  “Hey butcher!” one of them screamed across the yard.

  Dmitry raised his hand.

  “I told you it was him,” the man said to the other men around the fire.

  Quietly, Dmitry made his way up to Nicolai’s apartment. He looked up and down the hallways to make sure that no one was out, then pulled out his knife and pried the door lock. With a push against it, the door opened.

  Nicolai stood up stunned from his couch. He never thought the man would show back up tonight. He figured he’d have at least until tomorrow to find a new place to stay.

  Dmitry walked inside and took off his coat.

  “Now back to what I sa
ying,” Dmitry said, sucking his teeth. “Want to see my handy work?”

  ***

  Ivan looked around the small room where his friends had crashed and felt mildly annoyed. Why was he leaving his friends again? Why was it always about Dmitry? Why did his life have to change just because Dmitry said so? He groaned and got up from the bed where the girl beside him lay.

  “Where are you going, man?” Yani asked, peering over Helga’s heavy, naked body. He was still naked and uncovered.

  Ivan pulled up his pants and slipped on his coat. He wasn’t good with goodbyes, and Dmitry had told him that after they left, he would probably never see Yani again, unless Stepan sent him to London.

  “Yeah, where are you going?” Gistofani asked.

  Ivan slipped on his boots and grabbed his wallet. He walked to the door, opened it and looked back at his friends. They both sat up confused about Ivan’s newest, crazy mood swing. The smell of marijuana was thick in the air.

  “Fuck you faggots,” he said as he slammed the door behind him.

  With tears in his eyes, he walked out of the dirty apartment complex into the snowy night, headed back to his apartment. Dmitry would be home soon. He didn’t have much time to waste.

  ***

  When Ivan got to the apartment, Dmitry was in the bathroom. He walked to the door and stuck his head inside. Dmitry looked up from wiping blood from his hands and rolled his eyes at Ivan.

  “Where were you?” Dmitry asked.

  “Did you kill Alexandria for being a cheating bitch?” he asked without the slightest expression.

  “So you knew that she was engaged?” Dmitry turned off the faucet.

  “Of course, I knew.” Ivan yawned. “What time do we leave?”

  “I have to go over some things with you first.” Dmitry pulled off his bloody shirt and threw it in the corner. “I’m going to take a shower. Change clothes, because you stink of weed and put me on some tea.”

  “You know, I’m not your fucking bitch, Dmitry!” Ivan exclaimed. “You can’t just order me around!”

  Dmitry turned to him and sighed. “I don’t have time for your tantrums. Do what I told you to do, or I’ll kick your ass and make you do it,” he said in a low, calm voice.

  “Da, I’d like to see that.” Ivan stuck his chest out and gritted his teeth.

  Dmitry pulled the knife from his pocket and put it to Ivan’s throat before Ivan could speak another word. He lowered his voice more and wiped the curly strands of hair from his little brother’s face. “Now’s not the time to grow a pair, Ivan. Get ready so that we can go.” He stepped back and motioned towards the door.

  Quietly, Ivan walked away.

  ***

  With a teacup in his hand, Dmitry sat across from his brother in their living room and went over their plan. Ivan had moved past his anger and was now focused on killing. He was happy to hear that he would have a chance to let go of some of his frustration. And he could finally show his brother what type of man he really was.

  “What do we do first?” Dmitry asked.

  “Service entrance. Make sure that we don’t walk in front of visible cameras.”

  “Where do you keep your guns?”

  “Under the coat.”

  “What do you do when we arrive on his floor?”

  “Spray the walls and doors first with the oozy, then kick the door in.”

  “Who are we after?”

  “Fat ass Sacha. Don’t kill anyone that we don’t have to – especially women and children.”

  “What do we do to Sacha?”

  “Shoot him and cut his throat.”

  “How much time do we have?”

  “Five to seven minutes.”

  “What do we do with the guns when we finish?”

  “Drop them. They belong to another organization. They will link the murders to them.”

  “What do you do after you’re finish?”

  “Take the stairs back down. I’ll be winded, but I’ll be less apt to get caught.”

  “What do you need to have on your hands?”

  “Gloves...” Ivan shook his head. “Why are we sparing women and children again?”

  Dmitry sighed. “Is it not obvious?”

  Ivan shook his head. “No. We shouldn’t leave witnesses.”

  Dmitry shook his head. “We’re headed to London. We’re already criminals. They won’t review the tapes before we get out of Moscow. Don’t kill them. It’s bad Karma.”

  “I don’t believe in religion.” Ivan stood and grabbed one of the guns on the table.

  “Do you know how to shoot one of those things?” Dmitry asked.

  “Da da, brat,” Ivan assured.

  ***

  It seemed as if everything was going in slow motion when they pulled up to Sacha’s high-rise condo in downtown Moscow. Guns under their coats, Dmitry and Ivan parked behind a row of dumpsters and walked right into the back of the apartment complex’s entrance, which was left open for them by a soldier in the Vor who lived a few floors below Sacha.

  The elevator ride was short. Every few minutes, Dmitry checked his watch and looked over to check the mood of his little brother. It had been a while since they had gone on a hit together, and he wasn’t sure if his brother could handle it.

  However, Ivan didn’t show an ounce of nervousness. Instead, he breathed slowly as if all was right in the world.

  When the doors opened, they dropped a steel pole in the door of elevator. Guns cocked, they spread apart and let the bullets fly out of their weapons.

  The sound deafened them as they boomed. The rounds ripped into the walls entering into the other side. As the door of Sacha’s apartment open, Dmitry was there. He shot a bodyguard in the chest and entered quickly. Ivan was right behind him with his gun pointed.

  Strategically, they moved in a circle, shooting the rooms up, but Sacha was nowhere to be found. The two men who sat on the couch dead, fell over on top of each other.

  Screams erupted from the back of the large white apartment. Dmitry pointed for Ivan to go to that side while he walked through the hallway leading to the master bedroom.

  He dropped a cartridge and reloaded behind the wall. Then, he let the bullets fly again. He shot up each room and checked. There was no one in the bathroom, the bedroom on the side, but as he walked through the bullet-riddled hallway, he heard gurgling.

  Kicking the door open, he pointed and shot the room up, hitting Sacha who lay helpless in the corner. Just as he was about to pull out his knife, he heard Ivan’s gun go off several times. He hoped that his brother was still alive, but he couldn’t focus on that right then. He had to finish this.

  He knelt over the man, now lifeless and slit his throat with his knife as he promised Kirill he would do. Blood splattered across Dmitry’s face and hands.

  He stood up, breathing heavily and looked around the room. He heard a faint whimper in the other corner. He walked over to see a woman in the corner crying, dressed in a blue silk nightgown.

  Putting his gun away, he put his finger over his lips. Shh.

  “You didn’t see anything. You don’t know anything. You’re just glad to be alive. Say it,” he ordered.

  The tear-stained woman held her whimpers and looked up at the giant. “I didn’t see anything. I don’t know anything. I’m just glad to be alive,” she repeated, curled up into a ball.

  “Good,” Dmitry said with his knife still dripping with blood in his hand. “Now, stand up. Do you have any guns on you?”

  “No,” she cried.

  “Do you have any weapons?”

  “No,” she cried.

  “Turn around and count to 100. When you finish, count again. When you finish, count again. Keep counting until the police arrive. Do you understand?”

  “Yes,” the woman said, turning around. “One. Two. Three...”.

  He turned and walked out of the room. When he arrived back into the living room, Ivan was standing by the table eating popcorn out of the bowl in front of the b
odyguards.

  “Who was in there?” Dmitry asked.

  “Everyone’s dead,” Ivan said, digging his large hands back into the bowl.

  “Everyone like who?” he asked.