Jealous Russian Stalker (A Man Who Knows What He Wants Book 92)

by Flora Ferrari

I open my bag and get to work.

  The first thing I set on the table is another phone I’d programmed which would receive rerouted calls, but realized I wouldn’t need. My plan was to record a message that said, “Yes, this is Willow,” followed by a pause and then, “Yes, it’s okay. Please give him the key. Sorry I’m in a hurry. Have to run. Thank you.”

  I probably should have used it, but that’s no matter now.

  I quickly install tiny pinhole hidden cameras throughout her room, and one pointed right towards her safe, which she’s already accessed.

  When she types in the combination I’ll easily be able to see it from the multiple angles I have set up.

  As expected, she didn’t take her laptop with her this morning as the first part of the conference is mostly a welcome, meet and greet, and some presentations.

  I know this because I’m due to be onstage in thirty minutes. I have to work fast, and I do. This comes second nature to me, not because I’ve ever done something quite like this but I am a cyber security expert. Practicing it in this way gives me a rush I shouldn't be experiencing as it’s not exactly right, but I have to keep her safe from all the weirdoes out there in the world.

  I install a backdoor on to her computer that connects out to a separate computer that I control. It allows me to execute commands on her computer and I can not only see all her files, but literally see everything on her screen as it happens in real time.

  The keylogger I’ve installed also records every keystroke, which registers as an “event” in computer terms. Any site she visits and enters a password or credit card information…I’ve got it.

  And that’s one of the ways I’m going to get what I really want.

  Her…and who’s at the bottom of these not so random strange people that seem so interested in what’s mine…her.

  CHAPTER 9

  Willow

  “Our first guest speaker needs no introduction,” the mc of the conference says as I take my seat.

  “He’s the head of one of the world’s leading cyber security companies and he’s here today to talk about protecting ourselves from the wrong kinds of people. I’m very pleased to start the conference off with our keynote speaker, Mr. Ivan Volkov.”

  The minute he steps up on stage my jaw drops.

  “It’s him,” I say softly.

  “Yes, he is very famous and successful man,” a Russian hacker kid next to me says, fanboying out almost as much as I am, but for different reasons altogether I’m sure.

  For the first time I get a long, hard look at him. He’s the speaker on stage so I have every right to stare, and stare I do.

  He’s tall, very tall, as I already knew, but seeing him on stage makes him seem almost larger than life.

  He’s wearing a perfectly fitted dark suit in what appears to be a lightweight wool. Based on the cut and the fit and this man’s profile and demeanor I’m guessing it’s Italian. There’s no way I can see him accepting anything less than the best in life.

  He has a light beard, perfectly trimmed, but it doesn’t look exactly perfect, if that makes sense. It’s as if everything is just…so perfect, yet it all got that way without an ounce of effort on his part. I can imagine he dresses like this every day and looking this amazing is something he doesn’t even realize, it’s just a part of who he is and something that takes no more than twenty minutes each morning.

  “Good morning,” his gravelly, matter of fact, deep timbre booms out. Is he even using the microphone? It sounds way to natural. I don’t see a microphone and it doesn’t sound like it’s coming from a lapel mic either. Oh my god, how alpha is he?

  “Thank you all for joining us at the ninth annual Positive Hacker Days,” he begins, but I don’t hear a single word after that.

  I watch as he effortlessly glides across the stage, sometimes stopping in various places. His movements are always slow and controlled, and his voice controls everything. He doesn’t move his hands at all, and no way in hell does he put them in his pockets.

  I’m so used to the Western way where everything seems to be coming at you a million miles an hour...noise, lights, clickbaity titles, quick cuts when it comes to video, basically scientific tricks to hypnotize you into consuming content.

  This man does all that with a smoky voice that booms from deep in his throat and the finest suit money can buy, which is perfectly contoured to his wide, perfectly parallel shoulders that taper down to a physics defying waist. This guy has a V-shape like I’ve never seen.

  Computer people can be pretty scientific and nerdy to say the least, and in addition to computers I also like biology. I remember reading about natural selection, sexual mating strategies, how humans think they choose their partners while in reality the whole thing happens emotionally and not intellectually, and survival of the fittest…including our offspring.

  This man is definitely fit and would definitely give our offspring the best chance of succeeding in life, that is without question.

  He checks all the boxes and then some physically, and then circles back to round out the package with what I’m guessing is a bank account with a lot of zeros to the right of some pretty big numbers in the balance column.

  Cyber security pays better each and every year, especially in light of how important it is these days and how much of our world, including things like traffic lights and power grids run on systems that are surprisingly easy to hack.

  In 2006, a pair of LA traffic engineers hacked traffic lights to cause a gridlock as part of a labor protest…and that’s just a very small and simple example.

  But when my eyes drift down to his thighs I can see there’s nothing small about this Mr. Ivan Volkov. Wow, even his name sounds half superheroish and half villain.

  And judging by the size of the bulge in his pants he’s probably pretty super in the bedroom too.

  His suit pants aren't tight by any stretch of the imagination, thankfully because I get enough of that from the skinny jeans the hipster boys wear in college, but when he moves across the stage the fabric moves too, giving me an outline of his monstrous man meat.

  I can’t help but imagine him inside me, even though there’s no way I could take everything he has to offer. I think my dildo is at best three quarters of what he’s packing, and the package my dildo came in said XL!

  Even though I’m not picking up his words because I’m so in awe of him, my brain is processing some things in the background, such as the fact that he has a Russian accent, but he does use contractions.

  He either lives abroad or does a lot of international business, which would make sense. It would also make sense that we met the way we did at the airport, even though this is our fourth encounter in the barely half a day I’ve been in the country, and most of that time was spent sleeping.

  Well, I won’t be sleeping tonight with the thoughts I’m going to have about him, that’s for sure.

  His speech comes to an end and he opens the floor up to some Q&A. A few of the speakers ask questions in Russian, which he fluently answers and the screen off to the side of the stage displays a translated answer in English.

  Then some other attendees ask in languages I don’t even recognize.

  Then it hits me.

  After Gal Godot’s performance in Wonder Woman she was everywhere. I remember reading about her as she, and her character, were inspiring, especially to a nerd like me.

  There was an article on some website, I think Mosaic Magazine, where a rabbi mentioned something to the fact that, “When we speak a foreign language, our accent is determined by the sounds that our native language does or doesn’t have.”

  The words he uses to answer this question appear to be articulated at the back of his mouth, or the top of his throat, with a slight vibration or trill of the uvula.

  It almost seems like, as is the case with Gadot, he’s speaking Hebrew.

  So I know he speaks Russian, English, and possibly Hebrew…three languages that are not at all related. It’s not like he speaks
three romance languages where one can often be learned quickly after mastering the first.

  This man is incredible and has my brain just as engaged as he does my body.

  The second his Q&A session ends, the mc announces there will be a fifteen minute intermission.

  I rush from my seat to the stage where there’s already a line of people looking to speak with him and even get his autograph. What in the world?

  I watch as he meets with each person briefly, holding strong eye contact and being a great listener. I’m very impressed.

  The line moves swiftly and before I know it I’m next.

  My senses are on alert and I can smell his scent from five feet away. He smells like the wind through a forest on a crisp autumn day, with a hint of mahogany sawdust. Strangely enough I know as I’ve tinkered with things and built things from an early age, which is probably why I became so fascinated with technology as it’s always evolving and new things are coming online every day.

  The boy in front of me gets an autograph and then steps to the side, pumping his fist, just before he takes a selfie although Ivan isn’t even watching…because his eyes instantly lock on mine and my whole body freezes in place.

  He steps toward me and his hand reaches out towards my arm. My entire body anticipates the touch of his big mitt, but before he makes contact he stops, just short.

  “I…I…hello,” I say.

  “Hello…again,” he says.

  I take a deep breath and steel myself. I’m not about to act like some babbling girl right now. In order for him to respect me at all I need to present myself properly, like an adult with a backbone, even though thoughts of him throwing me onto my back on a nice soft bed are dancing through my brain.

  “I just wanted to thank you for what you did at the airport,” I say.

  “Any man in this country would have done the same,” he says, his voice even sexier like a late night DJ when you’re standing less than a few feet in front of him.

  “But they didn’t and you did, so thank you.”

  “Moscow can be a dangerous city if you don’t know your way around. Are you here just for the conference or will you be doing some sightseeing?”

  “I’m here for a week. The conference and then just tourist things.”

  “Allow me to show you around then, if you don’t have plans already.”

  “You’re from here?”

  “You could say I’m connected to the city and know it well.”

  “Okay,” I say.

  “Where are you staying?”

  Didn’t he see me this morning?

  “I’m over at the…I’m close by,” I say, remembering that no matter how someone looks on the outside you never know what’s going on inside their head. For all I know he could be a crazy Russian stalker.

  “I can pick you up after the event today.”

  “That would be great. How about we meet in front of the convention center?”

  “As you wish. How’s nineteen, I mean seven p.m. for you?”

  “Great. Thank you,” I say.

  “See you then,” he says, and I realize his hand is still inches away from my arm although he still hasn’t touched me.

  But if I’m not careful tonight, I might just lose myself and let him do a lot more than just touch me.

  CHAPTER 10

  Ivan

  Damn she is gorgeous. I haven’t stopped thinking about her since that moment after my speech. Scratch that. I haven’t stopped thinking about her since the moment I laid eyes on her.

  And now it’s time to lay my eyes on her in a different way.

  I open the laptop in my room that’s a clone of hers…and I wait.

  Seconds turn to minutes and minutes turn to an hour.

  I pace the room, always keeping my eyes on the screen. I tap a key every few minutes so the computer doesn’t fall asleep and display the screen saver on my screen.

  Right now I’m showing nothing but black, meaning her computer is closed.

  But I doubt it will be that way for long, and when she opens it and connects to the Internet, it’ll be go time.

  Another fifteen minutes pass. I sit on the edge of the bed. I drink another glass of water. I do pushups…anything I can to make the time go faster.

  Until finally my screen lights up.

  I run to the chair at my desk and watch her.

  She fluffs her hair and looks so incredible. It’s amazing to watch someone when they don’t know they’re being watched, when they’re their natural selves. She looks relaxed, but excited at the same time.

  And I quickly find out why when she leans forward in her seat and pulls up Google.

  The first thing she enters?

  My name.

  Fuck, that makes me so damn hard right now.

  I’ve got my computer set to split screen so I can both watch her through her laptop’s camera and also see what her screen is displaying. Thankfully I remembered to disable the light on her computer, which shows the camera is running. She has no idea it’s on right now. And now people know why Mark Zuckerberg keeps tape over both his camera and his mic jack. Former FBI Director James Comey also tapes over his laptop camera. Coincidence? Hardly.

  I’m reminded of what Matthew Green, an encryption expert at Johns Hopkins University said when someone asked him why he doesn’t do the same.

  First he said, “Because I’m an idiot,” followed by, “I have no excuse for not taking this seriously…but at the end of the day, I figure that seeing me naked would be punishment enough.”

  And this is going to be punishment all right, because if she shows me her body at some point how will I be able to avoid running up to her room, dropping that reinforced steel door with a shoulder, and taking what’s mine?

  I watch as she reads a few articles about me, her eyes narrowing as she really studies them. They’re good articles…I should know, I wrote them for the magazines that published them. The “news” is little more than entertainment and propaganda these days, and although I don’t like it, it is what it is and I’m playing the hand I was dealt.

  All the information is completely true, and we do run a clean ship. But when you’re the best of the best you know how to get your most favorable articles ranked at the top of Google to present the best image of you in order to attract more clients, or in this case the woman of my dreams.

  Her hand moves to her head as she studies the words, before it moves to her jaw. The intensity with which she’s reading about me, studying me almost as much as I’m studying her, is a huge fucking turn on.

  My balls are aching and I have no choice but to undo my belt and open my fly.

  I lean back in my chair but the relief is short lived. Now that my dick isn’t caged in in my boxer briefs all I can think about is being inside her.

  My need is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced and the thought that I’m always in control, that I’m the one who never succumbs to emotional desires, pisses me off. She’s the only one who’s ever done this to me, ever made me feel this way. She’s reduced me to a grown man at a computer who’s practically ready to jack off to Internet porn, something I don’t even watch.

  But this is as far from porn as you can get. This isn’t some San Fernando Valley production aimed at most men’s fantasies.

  Not even close.

  This is the real thing. A real woman with real beauty. My woman. And if anyone deserves to pleasure themselves to her, at least until I’m able to finally have the real thing, it’s me.

  My hand slides inside my boxers and I wrap my fingers around my cock, slowly stroking myself from root to tip. When my hand reaches the crown I can feel it’s already lubed up with precome, which just allows me to stroke even better.

  I lift my ass up off the seat and slide my underwear and suit pants down to my ankles, watching her.

  She’s reading from the top part of her browser window which is closest to the camera and it feels like she’s practically looking right into my eyes.

/>   “See what you make me do?” I say to her. “See how fucking hard you make me? See what you reduce me to…the control you have over me?”

  I stroke faster, and suddenly her seat slides back and she stands up, and walks away to the bathroom.

  “Fuck! Get back in the main room.”

  I didn’t put any cameras up in the bathroom as it wouldn’t be right, plus it would be too damn torturous to me.

  I hear the shower water turn on and know my chance has been missed, until she steps back out into the main room, looking through her suitcase.