Chapter 1: Arrival in Dagestan
The rugged peaks of Dagestan loomed outside the plane window as Vova and Angela descended into their vacation escape. The air was thick with anticipation, but not the kind Vova had hoped for. Angela, with her sharp tongue and fiercer curves, had been distant for weeks, her eyes glinting with a secret he couldn’t quite grasp. At 5’9”, with raven-black hair cascading over her shoulders and a body that could stop traffic, she was a force of nature. Vova, lean and unassuming, felt like a shadow next to her fire.
As they checked into their cliffside hotel, the tension between them crackled like static. Angela tossed her suitcase onto the bed, her tight jeans hugging every inch of her ass as she bent over. Vova’s throat went dry, but her smirk told him she wasn’t in the mood for his touch—not yet.
“God, Vova, could you at least pretend to be useful?” she snapped, her voice dripping with disdain as he fumbled with the room key. “Or are you just gonna stand there staring like a lost puppy?”
“I’m trying, Angela,” he muttered, his cheeks burning. “Maybe if you didn’t treat me like a damn errand boy—”
“Oh, please,” she cut him off, spinning to face him, her dark eyes blazing. “You love it. You love being told what to do. Don’t pretend with me.” She stepped closer, her breath hot on his face, her perfume intoxicating. “You’re not even half the man I need, are you?”
Vova swallowed hard, his heart pounding. Her words stung, but there was something in her tone—a challenge, a dare. Before he could respond, a knock at the door shattered the moment. Angela’s lips curled into a wicked smile as she strutted past him, her hips swaying with purpose.
Standing in the doorway was Ruslan, a local guide they’d hired for a hike. Tall, broad-shouldered, with a jawline that could cut glass, he exuded raw power. Angela’s gaze raked over him shamelessly, and Vova felt a knot tighten in his gut.
“Ruslan, right?” Angela purred, leaning against the doorframe, her voice low and sultry. “I hope you’re as good with your hands as you are with directions.”
Ruslan grinned, his eyes locked on hers. “I never disappoint, krasavitsa. You’ll see.”
Vova stood frozen as Angela laughed, a sound that sent a shiver down his spine. “Oh, I bet I will. Come in. Let’s… discuss the itinerary.” She shot Vova a pointed look over her shoulder. “Don’t just stand there, darling. Make yourself useful. Or just watch. You’re good at that.”
The room seemed to shrink as Ruslan stepped inside, his presence dominating the space. Angela didn’t waste time. She perched on the edge of the bed, crossing her legs, her gaze never leaving Ruslan. “So, big guy, you gonna show me what Dagestan has to offer? I’m not here for the scenery.”
Ruslan chuckled, deep and rough. “I’ve got plenty to show you. Question is, can you handle it?”
“Oh, I can handle anything,” Angela shot back, her voice a velvet blade. “Unlike some people.” Her eyes flicked to Vova, a smirk playing on her lips. “Isn’t that right, baby? You’re just here for the show.”
Vova’s face burned, but he couldn’t look away as Angela uncrossed her legs, leaning forward, her cleavage on full display. Ruslan’s gaze darkened, and the air grew heavy with unspoken promises. She stood, closing the distance between her and Ruslan, her hand brushing against his chest.
“Tell me,” she whispered, loud enough for Vova to hear, “are you as hard as you look?” Her fingers trailed lower, and Vova’s breath hitched. He felt a mix of shame and heat pooling in his core, unable to tear his eyes away as Angela’s dominance unfolded before him.
Ruslan growled, pulling her closer, his hands gripping her hips. “Why don’t you find out, malyshka?”
Angela’s laugh was pure sin as she glanced at Vova one last time. “Stay right there, sweetheart. You might learn something.”
The room pulsed with raw energy as their lips crashed together, Angela’s hands roaming with purpose, Ruslan’s grip firm on her ass. Vova’s heart raced, his body betraying him as he watched, caught in the storm of her power and his own twisted desire. Things were about to get messy—sweating, panting, dripping—and he knew he’d be powerless to stop it.
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