Maksim's patience snapped, The fire in his veins was turning into a physical agony and the silence from the boy kneeling on the rug was defenining.

  “Okay” Maksim rasped, his voice cracking like a whip. "Where is my phone? I should have known better than to expect logic from a gutter-performer."

  He reached out of the tub, his massive, wet arm straining as he lunged for the soaked jacket he’d thrown on the floor. He could see the outline of his phone in the pocket. One call. That’s all it would take to turn the 'Velvet Fantasy' into a pile of rubble.

  "WAIT!" Kit yelled, the word tearing out of his throat.

  Maksim froze, his hand inches from the jacket. He turned his head slowly, his snowy hair dripping ice-cold water onto his burning shoulders. 

  His eyes were no longer just red; they were a deep, pulsing crimson that seemed to glow in the steam. "What is it, Persicheck? Have you finally finished your math?”

  Kit felt like he was standing on the edge of a cliff.

  He thought about Anton—that lying, suit-wearing snake—promising him $500 tip for "just dancing."

  He thought about Ji-Hoon, probably tucked under a warm duvet right now with some guy he hooked up with. 

  Probably pretending to be sick while Kit was literally about to be dismantled by a Russian tycoon.

  He swallowed his pride, but he didn't let go of his sass. He couldn't. It was the only armor he had left.

  Kit crawled forward on his knees, moving right to the edge of the obsidian tub until he was inches from Maksim’s face. He could feel the Alpha’s heat radiating off his skin like a furnace.

  "Okay, fine. I'll do it," Kit said, his voice trembling but his gaze locked onto those predatory eyes. He leaned in closer, his damp hoodie brushing against the rim of the tub. "I’m going to sleep with you. Or, let me put it in simple English so it doesn't confuse your Russian white dog brain... I’m going to let you fuck me for a few hours. Only a few hours."

  He jabbed a finger toward Maksim’s chest, his eyes narrowing. "And after we’re done, you are going to pay me exactly what you promised. You said it would be a fortune, Mr. White Dog, so it better be enough for me to retire on. If I’m going to lose my... dignity... to a Sokolov, I’m going to be the richest 'whore' in Moscow. Do we have a deal?”

  Maksim let out a sound that was half-growl, half-chuckle. The audacity of this small, scentless creature was staggering. Most people trembled when he spoke; Kit insulted his brain and demanded a retirement fund while kneeling at his feet.

  "You speak very loudly for someone who is about to be fucked by an Alpha like me," Maksim purred, his hand moving with terrifying speed.

  He didn't grab the phone. Instead, he reached out and curled his fingers around the back of Kit's neck, pulling him even closer until their noses touched. "A few hours is all I need. But trust me, Persicheck... by the end of it, you won't be worried about the money. You'll be worried about how to walk."

  Maksim’s gaze dropped to the oversized hoodie Kit was still wearing. "Now. Get out of that rags. I want to see what I’m paying for."

  ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

  "Strip and go to the bed, Persicheck," Maksim commanded, the cold water from the faucet hitting his back as he watched Kit leave the bathroom.

  Kit didn't let himself hesitate. If he stopped to think about the physical reality of what was about to happen, he’d probably bolt for the window and take his chances with the forty-story drop. He walked into the master suite, his heart thumping a frantic rhythm against his ribs.

  Off came the oversized hoodie. Off came the trashed sneakers.

  He stood there in the center of the room, wearing nothing but the red silk bunny bodysuit and the sheer, shimmering leggings that clung to his slender thighs.

  He looked at himself in the wall-length mirror for a second—small, lithe, and impossibly fragile compared to the man in the other room. He climbed onto the massive bed, his knees sinking into the expensive silk duvet.

  Then, the bathroom door opened.

  Maksim didn't bother with a towel. He walked out completely naked, water still dripping from his massive, corded muscles, his white hair plastered to his forehead.

  He stood at the foot of the bed like a predatory god. Kit felt a physical lump in his throat. Up close, without the water to hide it, the Alpha was terrifying.

  And that thing... Kit’s brain stalled again. It looked like a biological impossibility, thick and pulsing with the heat of the Rut.

  Maksim climbed onto the bed, his weight making the mattress dip dangerously. He began to stroke his dick, his red eyes never leaving Kit’s face.

  "Do you usually wear explicit bunny costumes for all your clients?" Maksim rumbled, his voice dark and amused. "Or is this just for the ones who can pay for the 'Luxirious' treatment?"

  Kit’s face was burning, but he forced a smirk onto his lips. He wasn't going to let this man see him tremble. Not now.

  "We’re not lovers amd We do not know each other, Mr. White Dog," Kit snapped, his voice sharp despite the fluttering in his gut. "So please, just start fucking me and get it over with. No need for prep, no need for talking. This is business. I’m a performer, you’re the client. Let's keep it professional."

  To prove his point, Kit reached for the red silk of the bodysuit, peeling it down over his hips and kicking the sheer leggings away. He lay back and spread his legs wide, his body wasn't slim fragile kind of Omega, he had a very petite seductive kind of Body That would drive any Alpha Crazy, his chest heaved as he looked Maksim in the eye.

  "Are you going to start?" Kit challenged, his voice trembling slightly. "Or has your Rut suddenly stopped because you're too busy staring?"

  Maksim’s expression darkened. The smirk vanished, replaced by a raw, animalistic hunger. "You talk too much, Persicheck."

  Maksim lunged. He didn't use his fingers; he didn't use lube. He grabbed Kit’s hips with hands that felt like heated iron and drove himself forward.

  The entry was brutal. Maksim was only halfway insode kit's hole when the sheer, agonizing reality of Maksim's Dick hit Kit’s virgin asshole. Kit’s back arched off the bed, he felt electric waves pass through his entire core, his eyes blown wide as a scream of pure, unadulterated shock tore out of his throat.

  "FUCK!" Kit shrieked, his hands clawing at the silk sheets. "Wait! Stop! Take it out! TAKE IT OUT! Fucking... fuckking shittt!"

  The bravado was gone.

  The professional facade shattered. Kit was a virgin, and he had just tried to take the full, Rut-thickened dick of a Sokolov Alpha without a single second of preparation. It felt like being split in two by a hot lead pipe.

  Maksim’s jaw was a jagged line of tension. In the haze of his Rut, the screaming and the resistance felt like just another barrier to break through—the final wall before the release he desperately needed.

  He gripped Kit’s hips until his knuckles turned white, his breath a hot, jagged rasp against Kit’s ear.

  "Stay still," Maksim growled, his voice vibrating with a primal, terrifying hunger. "It's just the beginning. The pleasure comes after I stretch this tight hole of yours Persicheck."

  He tried to drive forward again, intent on burying himself to the hilt, but the sound that came out of Kit wasn't a moan or even a yell. It was a broken, pathetic sob.

  Kit’s body was shaking so hard the bed frame rattled. Tears were streaming down his face, carving tracks through his stage makeup, and his breath was coming in frantic, hyperventilating gasps. "No... please... Just fucking take it out... it hurts too much... stop... please..."

  The sheer, raw terror in Kit’s voice did what the ice-cold water couldn't. It pierced through the red fog of the Rut.

  Maksim froze. He looked down at the boy beneath him—this tiny, defiant creature who had spent the last hour insulting him—now reduced to a trembling mess of red silk and tears. Slowly, with a low, pained groan of his own, Maksim pulled back.

  As he slid out, the friction was a sharp, stinging reminder of how unprepared Kit’s body had been.

  Kit slumped into the pillows, his legs curling inward in a defensive, fetal position. But Maksim wasn't looking at Kit’s face anymore.

  He was looking at the sheets. There, stark against the expensive, ivory silk and the Alpha’s own pre-come, was a bright, unmistakable trickle of blood.

  The room went silent, save for Kit’s ragged sobbing. The electric scent of Ozone seemed to flicker and dim.

  Maksim sat back on his heels, his massive chest heaving. He ran a trembling, wet hand through his white hair, his red eyes wide with a mixture of shock and a sudden, crushing realization.

  He looked at the blood on his own skin, then back at the boy who was currently trying to hide his face in the duvet.

  "Don't fucking tell me..." Maksim’s voice was a low, dangerous whisper, his Russian accent thick with disbelief. "Don't tell me you're a virgin."

  Kit didn't look at him. He just curled tighter into himself, a fresh wave of tears hitting the sheets. "I told you... I told it's too big, how's that dick even on a human Beings body.... It's too big..."

  Maksim let out a breath that sounded like a snarl of pure frustration. "You are an Omega i fetish club. You wear a seductive clothes for a living. You talk like a sailor who has seen everything." He leaned over Kit, his shadow looming large. "How the hell am I the first person to touch you?"