26. Cathy
26
CATHY
W e walk along the winding paths, the evening light feeling good on my arms. The soft sounds of birdsong and rustling leaves create a cocoon around us.
Roses bloom in rich reds and soft pinks, their petals bright against the shadows cast by overhanging ivy and tall trees. The garden feels almost enchanted, each step drawing me further away from the tense, dark world I’ve felt trapped in.
Eventually, I glance up at Ivan, noticing the way the dappled sunlight softens the harsh lines of his face, casting him in a different light. A part of me longs to fill the silence, to release the weight I’ve been carrying.
“Anya tells me Jimmy sent more threats,” Ivan says at last, looking my way. “I have a lead I will be following up. Soon it will be over.”
“He wasn’t always like this” I reply quietly, wanting to justify my decisions for some reason. “At first, he was kind. Attentive. The perfect gentleman. He made me feel wanted. I’ve never felt wanted.”
Ivan’s gaze sharpens, though he doesn’t interrupt. His silence feels like permission to continue.
“I was naive, easily swayed by his words,” I confess, the memories unraveling. “He promised me everything—love, loyalty, a life together. But slowly, he changed. He became controlling, possessive, until I didn’t recognize him anymore. Or myself.”
“It’s the way men like him operate,” he murmurs, a flash of something dangerous glinting in his eyes. “They lure you in with promises, make you feel special, then twist that trust until you’re caught. Trapped.”
His words resonate with a weight that feels personal, as if he understands all too well.
I hesitate, then ask, “Have you known someone like that?”
He exhales, a heavy, almost painful sound, and for a moment, I think he won’t answer. But then, in a voice so low I almost don’t catch it, he says, “Elena.”
The words hang in the air between us, raw and charged with a pain that feels as real now as it must have been for him then. He spies a bench, sitting down as if his mind cannot bear to walk any longer.
“She was gentle,” he continues. “The kind of person who saw good in everyone, even when they didn’t deserve it,” he continues, his voice roughened by memory. “She fell for a man who saw her innocence as a weakness. He used her kindness to control her, to belittle her until she couldn’t see herself anymore.”
My heart clenches as I watch him, the hardness in his expression giving way to something deeper, more vulnerable. “What happened to her?” I ask softly.
His gaze drops, the pain evident in the set of his mouth. “She took her own life. And I wasn’t there to stop her.” His voice breaks just slightly, a vulnerability that catches me off guard. “I swore I’d never fail anyone like that again.”
His words hit me with a fierce intensity, and for a moment, all the walls between us seem to fade. I see the pain he carries, the loss that fuels his need for control, and I see that, beneath his cold exterior, there’s a man who has suffered deeply for a long time.
He continues after a moment’s pause. “I will not let the same thing happen to you.”
Without thinking, I reach for his hand, my fingers curling around his. He glances down, surprised but doesn’t pull away. Instead, he looks at me with a raw honesty that leaves me breathless.
“I don’t need to be controlled, Ivan,” I say, meeting his gaze. “But I do feel safe around you.”
A flicker of understanding softens his features, and he nods, his grip tightening around my hand. “With me,” he says quietly, “you will always be safe.”
Slowly, he reaches up, brushing a stray strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers lingering against my cheek. His hand moves to rest lightly on my neck, his thumb grazing my jaw. I shiver at his touch, the tenderness surprising me.
“Cathy,” he murmurs, and then, as if pulled by a force neither of us can resist, he leans in.
Our lips meet in a kiss that is gentle, almost tentative, as though he’s holding back a storm. I feel the weight of his past in that kiss, the need for connection that he’s buried deep.
My hand finds its way to his shoulder, and as the kiss deepens, I sense a shared vulnerability that goes beyond words.
His kiss deepens, and he draws me closer, his arms tightening around me, pulling me into his solid warmth. I feel his fingers trail along my back, possessive yet infinitely gentle.
Slowly, he guides me down onto the grass, his movements unhurried, almost reverent, as though he wants to savor every second. The cool blades press softly against my skin, and above us, the stars flicker, distant but bright, witnesses to a moment that feels far removed from the world we left behind.
His hand grazes my cheek, his thumb brushing just below my jaw, and I close my eyes, feeling every inch of his touch. There’s a tenderness in him, a care that feels new, like he’s discovering a part of himself he rarely lets surface.
His lips find mine again, and this time, the kiss is deeper, a blend of unspoken need and restrained desire. His fingers move along my neck, trailing down to my shoulder, the touch igniting a warmth that spreads through me, wrapping me in his presence.
"Ivan," I murmur, barely aware of the sound of his name on my lips, but it seems to have an effect on him. His hand stills, and he looks at me, his gaze holding an unspoken question.
For a moment, his vulnerability is there, exposed—just a flicker of it, but it’s enough to stir something within me.
He leans in, his voice a soft whisper against my ear. "You… have no idea what you do to me, do you?" The words send a shiver through me, his tone both intense and tender.
I smile, a small, uncertain smile that feels almost foreign after everything we’ve been through. “I’m starting to understand,” I whisper back, letting my own fingers trace along his jawline, feeling the stubble beneath my fingertips. “You’re not as unreachable as you think.”
His fingers slide beneath the hem of my dress, tracing lazy circles on the sensitive skin of my inner thigh. I bite my lip, trying to suppress a groan as his touch sends electric jolts through my body.
"Tell me something else," he urges, his voice dripping with desire. "Something I don’t know."
I close my eyes, letting go of my inhibitions. "I fantasize about you," I confess. "About us, like this. While you’re working, when I’m in bed."
Ivan's grip tightens on my thigh, and he leans closer, his breath hot against my ear. "What did you imagine, Cathy?" he asks, his tone commanding yet utterly seductive. "Did you imagine me taking you like this?"
His fingers deftly slip beneath my panties, finding their mark with expert precision. I gasp, arching my back as he begins to stroke me, slowly at first, then with increasing urgency.
"Yes," I moan, my hips bucking involuntarily. "Yes, just like this."
He laughs, a dark, possessive sound that sends a thrill through me. "Good girl," he mutters, his thumb brushing over my clit in rhythmic motions. "Let me hear you beg for it."
I whimper, my hands gripping the grass beneath me as waves of pleasure begin to crash over me. "Please," I gasp, my voice trembling. "Please, Ivan, don't stop."
He doesn't stop. Instead, his fingers work faster, plunging deeper as he talks dirty, driving me wild. "That's right," he growls. "Take it, Cathy. You love it, don't you? Admit it."
"Yes," I cry out, my body tensing as an orgasm builds inside me. "I love it, Ivan."
His fingers curl inside me, hitting that sweet spot with perfect timing. I scream his name as I come, my insides clenching around his fingers in a desperate bid for more. He doesn't let up, riding out my climax until I'm panting and trembling beneath him.
When he finally withdraws, I feel bereft, my body still humming with residual tension. But before I can catch my breath, he shifts position, pulling me onto all fours. My heart pounds in my chest as I realize what's coming next.
"Stay still," he commands, his voice rough with need. "Don't move unless I tell you to."
I obey, biting my lip as I brace myself for what's to come. His hands grip my hips tightly, positioning himself at my entrance. Then, with one swift thrust, he enters me, filling me completely.
I cry out, my nails digging into the grass as he begins to move, driving into me with deep, powerful strokes. Every thrust sends shockwaves of pleasure through me, making it hard to think, hard to focus on anything but the way he feels inside me.
"Look at me," he orders, his voice breaking through the haze of pleasure. "Watch me fuck you, Cathy."
I turn my head, meeting his gaze as he slams into me again and again. His eyes are dark with lust, his expression one of utter possession.
"Harder," I beg, my voice hoarse with need. "Please, Ivan, harder."
He complies, picking up the pace until I can barely breathe, let alone think. My entire world narrows down to the sensation of him inside me, to the way he feels, the way he sounds, the way he makes me feel like I'm the only thing that matters in the universe.
"That's it," he grunts, his fingers digging into my hips. "Take it, Cathy. Take everything I give you."
His words, his dominance, they push me over the edge. With a strangled cry, I come again, my body shaking violently as waves of ecstasy wash over me. He follows soon after, burying himself deep inside me as he reaches his own release, his breath hot against my neck.
We stay locked together for a moment, both of us panting as our bodies gradually calm down. Finally, he pulls out, leaving me feeling empty and sated all at once.
"On your back," he tells me, his voice softer now, almost tender. "Let me see you."
I comply, lying flat on the grass as he kneels beside me, his eyes roaming over my sweat-dampened body with a look of pure adoration. It's a stark contrast to the fierceness of his earlier actions, and I find myself smiling.
"Now," he says, his voice low and intimate. “Would you like a game of tennis?”