Free Naomi & Bradley, Reality Shows... (Vodka & Vice, the Series Book 3) by Angela Conrad, Kathleen Hesser Skrzypczak Page B

waist.  I can almost lose myself in my imaginary perfect Bradley filled world. 
    Except for that noise.
    All that ridiculous noise! 
    Damn Viktor. 
    My perfect fictional world is shattered by the constant sounds of a party in the loft living room.
    “Viktor!”  I shout, “Can you turn that gypsy music down?”
    My heart leaps as my bedroom door bangs back hard against the wall and Viktor staggers in.  I never expected him to burst through the bedroom door.  We have established new boundaries.  Viktor knows he’s no longer welcome in my bedroom.  He’s dripping vodka from the bottle, all over my white rug.  His eyes are glazed over and he smells as if he’s been drug through an ashtray of tobacco and pot.  He lurches closer.
    “You called?”
    Before I can speak, Viktor whistles through his teeth as if he’s calling a horse.  In bursts his two brothers, Aleksey and Luka both are shooting videos with their iPhones.  Viktor dives on my bed and starts dripping cold vodka all over my stomach, and then he slides one strong hand into both of mine and holds them over my head.  To my horror, he uses his free hand to pull up my T-shirt and he starts licking my stomach.
    “Viktor, stop this right now!”
    He grins, a sly nasty grin, presses his lips together, and shakes his head in the negative.  He continues to kiss my skin with wet lips.  I glance up at the two younger Slotzky brothers.  What the hell are they doing?  Was this their idea of a joke, making some porn home movie or something?  They look sinister, black cigarettes squeezed between their lips, their eyes fogged over like a car window on a cold night.  I’ve never seen them this high and my adrenaline kicks in with a touch of real fear.
    Viktor is burying his nose in my navel now and smelling me as if I’m a freshly served taco bar.
    I raise my head and struggle to get free, but Viktor outweighs me by a hundred pounds and he’s not letting go.  “Shh KuKu, just having some fun.”
    “ I’m not having fun, and what’s with the video?”
    “I just want to remember you KuKu, you know, when Bradley comes back, if he does…and I leave.  Just give me that, a little something to keep.  How hot you are.”
    Viktor wiggles between my legs and holds my kicking feet down with his.  I stare at the two roaming Slotzky men as they film us and a terrible feeling comes over me.  This smells like another setup.  Viktor had come back last Saturday in the morning hours, just as Bradley was leaving.  Had they crossed paths in an elevator, in the lobby?  I never talked about Bradley’s surprise visit, but since then Viktor has been quiet, staring at me, smoking more dope than normal.  The tables in the loft now littered with full ashtrays and empty bottles, tipped over glasses, and decorated with water stains.
    “Get up, shift off of me, I mean it Viktor!  If you don’t stop this, one of us is moving out today!”
    “One last kiss then Kukolka, for old time’s sake, please…”  Viktor whines as he starts kissing my neck, moving towards my chin.  “You owe me that.”
    “No, let go of my hands or I’m going to knee you in the balls good, final warning.”
    Viktor grins, “You American girls, all rugged like the old west huh?”
    He swoops down and covers my lips with his.  I haven’t kissed him since that wild night after the Russian nightclub fire, and I have to admit, the man knows how to move his tongue.  I relax, trying to get him to drop his guard.  He goes wild then, licking my bottom lip, he releases my hair and holds my head steady with his big paws.
    Here it comes, I think, before shifting and getting him good right where it hurts.
    “Ouchhhhhhhhhh!  Shit!”
    Viktor slides off the bed and doubles over, rolling on the floor in a tight ball.  He shouts out a string of Russian words I can only guess the meaning of, and I hear Luka and Aleksey howling like monkeys.
    I pull down my shirt and point at the Slotzkys, “Enough