Milf Hunter: Seducing And Taming Beauties - Chapter 712

Chapter 712: The Safe House
Natalya insisted on helping me into the wheelchair, her hands firm but gentle as she guided me outside. “You’re still recovering,” she murmured, her voice leaving no room for argument. “Let me take care of you.”

I didn’t protest. There was something comforting in the way she took charge, the way her fingers lingered on my shoulders as she pushed me toward the car. The others moved around us in silence, their presence a quiet reassurance that we were protected.

Polina opened the car door, her sharp eyes scanning the surroundings before helping Natalya ease me into the backseat.

The moment I was settled, Natalya slid in beside me, her fingers immediately finding mine, her grip tight—almost desperate, like she was afraid I’d disappear if she let go. “Stay close,” she whispered, her thumb brushing over my knuckles.

Helen sat up front with Polina, her posture rigid, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. She didn’t speak, but I could see the tension in her shoulders, the way her eyes darted to the rearview mirror every few seconds, as if checking that we were still there.

The other four female bodyguards followed in a second car, their presence a silent promise of protection. They moved like shadows, their expressions unreadable but their loyalty unquestionable.

As Polina started the engine, the car rolled forward, the hum of the engine the only sound in the quiet wilderness.

Natalya’s fingers tightened around mine, her other hand resting on my thigh, her touch warm even through the fabric of my pants. “We’ll be safe soon,” she murmured, her voice low but steady. “Just a little longer.”

I leaned my head back against the seat, watching the dense forest blur past the windows. The scent of pine and earth filled the air, mixing with the faint trace of Natalya’s perfume—something floral and fierce, just like her.

Natalya didn’t say a word to her army about our destination. The fewer people who knew, the better.

After an hour of driving, the trees closed in around us, the road narrowing into little more than a dirt path.

The safe house appeared through the foliage—a beautiful wooden cabin, tucked deep in the forest. The kind of place no one would ever think to look for us. The air was crisp, the scent of pine and damp earth filling my lungs as Polina brought the car to a stop.

The bodyguards moved swiftly, fanning out to secure the perimeter. Polina returned a few minutes later, her expression sharp. “Boss, everything is safe.”

Natalya turned to me, her voice low but firm. “Let’s go in.”

I nodded, but my mind was still on the files I’d seen—Andrey’s deals with the FBI, Claire Starling’s smoldering gaze, the net closing in on Nikolai. And I still hadn’t told Natalya any of it.

Inside, the cabin was warm, the wooden walls glowing in the soft light filtering through the windows. Natalya pushed my wheelchair through the space, her movements efficient as she selected a room downstairs. The others followed, their footsteps quiet but alert.

“This will be our room,” Natalya said, her voice steady, though I could see the tension in her shoulders. “Polina, post guards outside. No one in or out without my say-so.”

Polina nodded. “Understood, Boss.”

The quiet click of the latch echoed in the small room as Natalya closed the door behind us, sealing us in our own private world. The air between us was thick with unspoken words, with the weight of everything we’d been through—and everything still to come.

She stood there for a moment, her back pressed against the door, her eyes locked onto mine with an intensity that made my chest tighten.

“Do you want to lie down?” she asked, her voice soft but edged with concern, her fingers absentmindedly brushing against her collarbone.

I shook my head, a small smile tugging at my lips. “No. I’m fine like this.”

Natalya exhaled, her nose wrinkling slightly as she lifted her arm and sniffed herself. “Ugh, I smell like gunpowder and sweat,” she muttered, her voice tinged with disgust. “I can’t stand it. I need to wash this off.”

She rummaged through her bag, pulling out a towel. As she did, I caught a glimpse of black lace—her bra and panties—before she quickly bundled them up and clutched them to her chest, her cheeks flushing slightly.

She turned toward the bathroom, pausing in the doorway to fix me with a warning look. “Don’t you dare peek in,” she said, her voice firm but with a hint of playful teasing.

I nodded, the picture of innocence, my hands raised slightly in mock surrender. “Why would I peek in? You’re my girlfriend, Boss.”

Natalya’s lips twitched, a hint of a smirk playing at the corners. “Girlfriend,” she repeated, as if testing the word on her tongue.

There was something almost shy in the way she said it, a flicker of vulnerability beneath her usual fierceness. “Well, my boyfriend better behave himself,” she added, her voice laced with amusement.

Then, with a roll of her eyes, she disappeared into the bathroom, the door clicking shut behind her.

I leaned back against the headboard, listening to the sound of the water turning on, the faint rustle of fabric as she undressed. My mind wandered—to the way her body had felt pressed against mine in the car, to the way her lips had tasted when she kissed me, to the way she’d looked at me just now, like I was the only thing in the world that mattered.

The shower started, the sound of water hitting the tiles a steady rhythm. I could almost picture her beneath the spray—her dark hair slicked back, water cascading over her shoulders, down her back, over the curves of her body. My fingers twitched, my body reacting to the thought, but I forced myself to stay still. A gentleman, just like I’d promised.

I couldn’t help but smile to myself, the warmth of Natalya’s words still lingering in my mind. Girlfriend. It felt good—real, in a way that nothing else in this chaotic world did. But curiosity gnawed at me, and I decided to take a look around the cabin while Natalya was in the shower.

With a flick of my mind, I used telekinesis to open the latch, then pushed my wheelchair forward with my hands.

The wooden floor creaked slightly as I rolled into the hallway, where Polina stood with another bodyguard—a woman with fiery red hair, piercing blue eyes, and pale, almost porcelain skin. She was tall, her posture rigid with the kind of discipline that came from years of training.

Polina turned at the sound of my wheelchair, her brow furrowing in concern. “Let me help you,” she said, already reaching for the handles. “Where do you want to go?”

I shook my head. “I just want to take a look at the cabin.”

While Polina pushed me forward, I discreetly activated my AI Lens, scanning the redheaded bodyguard.

Name: Irene Kozlov

Age: 32

Specializations: Close-quarters combat, tactical driving, advanced firearms.

Notes: Former Spetsnaz operative. Highly disciplined. Similar skill set to Polina, but with more field experience. Older, but no less lethal.

Polina adjusted her grip on my wheelchair. “Let me help you then.”