Chapter 12
Dmitri
The villa was isolated, perched on a cliff overlooking the Amalfi Coast, surrounded by nothing but rock, sea, and silence. No neighbors. No staff after sunset. Just us.
Exactly how I wanted it.
Natasha stood on the balcony in a white silk slip that clung to every curve, the Mediterranean wind whipping her silky dark brown hair around her face. My wife. The word still felt new on my tongue, sharp and possessive in a way that made my chest tight.
I moved behind her, caging her against the railing with my arms. She leaned back into me, trusting, and I inhaled the scent of her—jasmine and salt air and something uniquely hers.
"It's beautiful," she murmured.
"You're beautiful," I corrected, lips brushing her ear. "Everything else is just background noise."
She turned in my arms, those dark eyes meeting mine.
There was something in her gaze tonight that posed as a challenge, maybe.
Or permission. Either way, it made the darkness in me stir.
I expected her to give in to me more as time passed, as trust built.
But I never factored in how I’d feel when receiving it.
The more she leaned into us, the more obsessive I became over her.
To the point where I didn’t trust myself not to go off the handle if someone even thought ill things about her.
Don’t let them breathe in a negative manner, and I’d probably remove their jugular immediately.
It would happen far away from this pristine white that I was falling in love with seeing her in.
It glorified how perfect I thought she was.
How fucking beautiful and angelic. Even the pale gloss that she wore on her lips made me hard. White was definitely her color.
"What are you thinking?" she asked softly.
I traced my thumb along her jawline, tilting her face up. "I'm thinking about all the ways I'm going to ruin you tonight, Mrs. Volkov."
Her breath hitched. "Ruin me?"
"Completely." I gripped her throat gently, feeling her pulse jump beneath my palm. "I'm going to mark every inch of you. Make sure you feel me for days. Make sure you know beyond any doubt that you belong to me."
"I already know that," she whispered.
"Then I'll make you remember it. Feel it. Understand it."
“Dmitri, you do understand that I’m yours, right?” I saw the concern in her eyes as she squinted them at me.
Yeah, baby girl, I’m that kind of crazy for you.
I chuckled. “There’s not a brave enough man that can tell me different.” I kissed her briefly. “Woman either.”
I led her inside, to the master bedroom which I'd already prepared. White silk ropes coiled on the bedside table. Candles flickering, casting shadows that danced across the walls. The massive four-poster bed dominated the space.
Natasha's eyes widened when she saw the ropes, but she didn't protest. Didn't hesitate. She trusted me with her body, her pleasure, her pain. And that trust? It made me fucking feral.
"Strip," I commanded, voice low and rough.
She obeyed without question, the silk pooled at her feet. I circled her slowly, drinking in every inch of exposed skin, every curve, every mark I'd ever left on her body. Though healed and gone, I knew where I’d placed each and every one of them. But tonight, I wanted more.
"On the bed. On your back."
She climbed onto the mattress, and I followed, securing her wrists to the bedposts with the silk rope. Not tight enough to hurt but enough that she couldn't escape. Couldn't do anything but take what I gave her.
"Safe word?" I asked, testing the bindings.
"Swirl," she breathed.
"Good girl." I kissed her deeply, claiming her mouth the way I was about to claim everything else. When I pulled back, her lips were swollen, eyes glazed with need.
I moved to the foot of the bed, spreading her legs wide. She was already wet for me, glistening in the candlelight. I ran my hands up her thighs, watching her squirm. There was going to be a lot more than that tonight.
"Please," she whimpered.
"Please what?"
"Touch me." Natasha’s eyes held mine, unafraid, unyielding from her request and desperate to feel me.
I smirked, leaning down to press a kiss to her inner thigh, then I bit down. Not hard, just enough to break skin, but hard enough that she cried out, her back arching off the bed. The sound fed my soul, making me feel connected to her in the best way.
"You're mine to touch," I growled against her skin. "Mine to taste. Mine to fuck however I want. Mine to love. Say it."
"I'm yours," she gasped. Eyes on me, so I knew she meant it.
"Louder."
"I'm yours!"
I rewarded her by putting my mouth on her, tongue circling that sensitive bundle of nerves while my fingers pushed inside her. She was tight and perfect, clenching around me as I worked her closer to the edge. Silky smooth, accepting, needy, and driving me fucking crazy.
But I didn't let her come. Not yet. I pulled away just as her breathing turned desperate, and she made a sound of pure frustration. Carnal desire prickled along my skin making me turn off everything else but my focus on her.
"Not until I say," I told her, moving back up her body. I pinned her down with my weight, letting her feel how hard I was against her thigh. "You come when I allow it. Understand?"
I teased her pussy with the head of my shaft, letting my pre-cum mix in her juices to lubricate her. I used her labia as a sleeve to jerk me, teasing her clit at the same time. She was so close. I was even closer. But I refused to come undone without being inside her, marking her inside and out.
She nodded frantically, eyes wild with need.
I entered her in one brutal thrust, burying myself to the hilt. She screamed—pleasure and pain mixing together—and I stilled, letting her adjust. Her walls fluttered around me, trying to pull me deeper. Hell, I needed a minute too, or this was going to be over before it fucking began.
"Fuck, you feel incredible," I groaned, pulling back only to slam back in. "So fucking perfect for me." The friction. The sound of us.
I set a punishing rhythm, each thrust driving her into the mattress. The ropes held her wrists tight as she pulled against them, desperate for something to hold on to. I grabbed her throat, applying just enough pressure to make her gasp.
"Look at me," I commanded.
Her eyes locked on mine, pupils blown wide, completely at my mercy. And I could tell how much she wanted to be underneath me. I knew she loved how brutal I was like this. She craved this kind of intimacy from me.
"Who do you belong to?" I growled, driving deeper.
"You," she choked out.
My dick jumped inside her, loving it too.
"Who owns this body?"
"You do."
My hips bucked into her, a reflex to her response.
"Who's the only man who will ever touch you again?"
"You—only you—please, " she begged. The more I questioned her, the wetter she got.
“My greedy girl.” I said in defeat. We were god damn doomed.
I felt her tightening around me, close to the edge. I released her throat and grabbed her hips, angling her so I could hit that spot that made her see stars. The spot she absolutely loved.
"Come for me, wife," I commanded. "Show me I own you."
Natasha challenged me, holding back as I built her up to that point of no return. Her eyes baited me, daring me to take her to that place where she needed to be. Silly wife, everything about her commanded me. If it was where she wanted to go, I would take her there readily. Every wish…
When I kept up that pace for her–steady and at the tempo she needed, I saw the moment of panic.
The one who told me she was getting exactly what she wanted and that I’d taken her there without a single word being spoken.
I didn’t need her to say a thing. I watched her every move, anticipating her needs, knowing that it was my responsibility to bring this moment to her whenever she desired it.
That time was now. That feeling of euphoria posed on her face so damn deliciously that I wished that I could eat–consume it.
She shattered with a scream that echoed off the walls, her entire body convulsing beneath me.
The sensation of her clenching around me pulled my own release from somewhere deep and primal.
That partnered with the satisfaction that I completed her and this mission was too damn much to not release into her.
I saw the love shining up at me from the corners of her eyes where the tears gathered.
I felt how safe she felt with me in this moment and all the ones before it.
In this moment, everything that encompassed us knotted so tight within me that I came hard, filling her, marking her from the inside out.
But I wasn't done. I stayed inside her, still hard, and reached for something I'd hidden under the pillow. A permanent marker.
Her eyes widened when she saw it.
"What—"
"Shh," I murmured, uncapping it. "I want to mark what's mine."
I pulled out slowly, watching my release drip from her, then I wrote across her lower abdomen in dark, bold letters:
PROPERTY OF VOLKOV
She trembled beneath me, watching as I marked her skin.
"This," I said, tracing over the words with my finger, "stays until it fades. And when it does, I'll write it again. And again. Until you never forget who you belong to."
"I could never forget," she whispered.
I leaned down, kissing the words I'd written, then moved back up to capture her mouth. "I know, princess. But I'm a possessive bastard, and I need everyone—including you—to see it."
Natasha hesitated, then I saw that bravado take the stage. “I don’t know how healthy that’ll be for the baby.”
“Baby?” I questioned with my mouth and the squint of my eyes.
“Yes, husband. The baby.” She giggled. “Check under the tree.”
Wondering what this wife of mine was up to, I went to the Christmas tree in the corner of the room and picked up the box that was there.
I’d thought that it was just part of the decoration.
The white box with a golden ribbon had a tag hanging from the side with my name on it.
I pulled off the top to see a onesie with ‘Baby Volkov’ on it.
Then there was the pregnancy test in a clear box that read pregnant.
There was also a framed letter from the doctor declaring her pregnant as well with an ultrasound photo.
I turned to her to see her smiling and crying. Rushing back to her, I untied her wrists, rubbing feeling back into them gently. She wrapped her arms around me immediately, clinging tight.
"I love you," she murmured against my chest.
Those three words still had the power to undo me. I rolled us over so she was on top, straddling me, and pulled her down for another kiss.
"I love you too," I said, and I meant it with every dark, twisted part of my soul. "My wife. My princess. Mother of my child. Mine."
“So you’re happy?” She asked.
“You have no idea.” I exhaled. “The wedding had been your Christmas gift, along with everything else I’d gotten you. But this–the baby. Is mine.”
She smiled—that beautiful, devastating smile that had brought me to my knees from the first moment I saw it.
And as she reached between us, putting me inside her again, and began to move above me, taking her pleasure while I watched in awe, I knew one thing with absolute certainty. Not only was she mine, but I was hers.