Chapter 19 Catarina
Chapter nineteen
Catarina
I killed my father.
And I feel nothing about it.
There's a dull ache in my chest, and that's all I feel—but that’s from knowing that my blood is responsible for the death of Mikhail, most of Matysh’s men, and the attempted murder of Matysh.
Matysh lets his friend, Nikolai, drive us home, and he sits by me, not letting go of my hand the entire time. There’s an air of silence around everyone as we make it back to the estate, and as the car pulls into the driveway, my stomach lurches.
People died here because of me.
“The house staff was untouched,” Matysh says, and I take a deep breath, turning to look at him.
“I’m not sure that makes me feel any better.” My voice is quiet as Nikolai, the arms dealer and his friend—and potentially a new member of his crew—opens the door for us.
“Merry Christmas,” Nikolai chuckles as the two of us climb out. “The estate is cleaned up, and we’ll take care of everything else.”
Matysh and he exchange some sort of look I don’t understand. “Remind Mauricio of my thanks. I’ll see you tomorrow.” They shake hands, and then Matysh turns back to me, catching my arm as I slide out.
“I’m fine.” I try to wave him off.
“You are the furthest thing from it,” his deep voice strains. “We need to get you inside.”
I don’t argue with him, and honestly, maybe he’s right. Though, as the adrenaline starts to wane and we step back into the house, I see my husband under better lighting.
And he doesn’t look so fine either.
He’s covered in cuts and bruises from the explosion earlier, and as we make it through the house to the bedroom, my only solace is that no harm befell the staff. They’re all out of sight, but they’re not out of mind.
Matysh almost lost everything because of me.
“Let’s get you out of this,” Matysh says as soon as the bedroom door is closed. “And maybe into a nice warm bath.”
I let out a shaky exhale. “You know… I thought our first Christmas together would be a lot different.”
Matysh nods, then pauses, before digging into the pocket of his leather jacket.
He pulls out a small red gift bag in hand. The thing has stains I don’t want to think about, looking like it went through war itself.
I eye him. “What's this?”
“Merry Christmas,” Matysh whispers, handing me the bag.
Maybe it’s just the long night that we’ve had, but I choke up at the gesture, and I feel the tears in my eyes before I even open it.
He watches me as I push the tissue paper aside and pull out a small velvet box, flipping open the top to see a beautiful locket inside.
“I figure you could put a picture of Mikhail in there,” Matysh murmurs.
I stare down at the locket. All I can think about is the fact that my own father killed him.
How different would things have been if none of that happened? A week ago, if given the choice, I’d have gone back to before my and Mikhail’s wedding in an instant. But now, I look at Matysh, and I know I wouldn't trade this for anything in the world.
I love him. I want him. I want to be right here as his wife.
“It's beautiful,” I finally choke out. He reaches for the necklace and helps me put it on, his fingers delicately tracing the skin of my neck.
“It suits you,” he breathes out. “But honestly, I think everything fucking suits you. I haven’t found a thing I don’t think you’d look incredible in.”
“Maybe that explosion did you some good,” I laugh. Though after everything, laughing feels wrong.
He chuckles, and then tips my chin up to his.
“Catarina, when I say that you're mine, I want you to know that I don't think you're just some trophy for me to tote around.” Matysh gazes into my eyes, his irises searching mine.
“You're so much more to me than that. You’re mine to protect, to hold, to love. I would go to the ends of the Earth to protect you if need be. I will never let anything bad happen to you again. I swear it.”
“I know.” My voice nearly breaks. I reach for his face with my free hand, brushing my thumb against his cheekbone. “I love you, Matysh.”
He smiles at me, grabbing my hand from his face and bringing my fingers to his lips. He kisses them gently before leaning in and kissing me on the mouth. His lips part mine, and I open to invite his tongue inside.
My arms wrap around his neck, and I pull him as close to me as possible. After the fear of possibly losing him, I never want to let him go again. I want to be as close to him as I possibly can.
“You’re mine, ogonyok (Little Flame),” he whispers, his hands trailing down my body. “To love you will be the death of me, but it’s worth it.”
His fingers dig into my hips, and he pulls me onto his lap, as we move backward to the bed. His cock throbs against me, and even after this shitty, blood-filled night, I still can’t get enough of him. And doing this just feels right.
“I never want to lose sight of you again,” Matysh murmurs, taking my shirt off. His gaze rakes over me before unhooking my bra and tossing it aside. “I want to chain you to my bed and never let you go.”
“Me, too,” I whimper, just as his mouth connects with my breast, his teeth tugging at my nipple. My pussy clenches at the contact, at the slight burst of pain that precedes the pleasure. “Matysh.” His name falls from my lips naturally, as if it was always meant to be the one there.
“I’ll always protect you.” He kisses my chest, growing more passionate with every single one. His hands rake over the tops of my thighs, and they clench beneath the warmth of his touch.
“I need you,” I say, leaning in and kissing along his jaw. He groans out as I slide off his lap and fall back to the bed, tugging off my jeans and underwear. “I want you to do whatever you want to me.” I meet his gaze as I kick the rest of my clothes off onto the floor.
“You’re being a good girl,” he growls, standing up and tearing off his shirt. Though beat up from the explosion, he’s still the epitome of a fucking Greek god.
And I want him so bad.
I extend my hands to each of the bedposts. “Do it.”
“No tying you tonight,” he growls, shoving his pants down and freeing his massive cock. “I want your hands all over me, Catarina. You’re my wife.”
I nod; for some reason that makes me more nervous than if he’d bound and gagged me.
“Sometimes the hands are enough.” He climbs onto the bed, shoving his knee between my legs and spreading me wide. Matysh drops down, his mouth connecting with my pussy.
I gasp at the lack of warning, his tongue circling my clit.
“Oh fuck,” I moan out as he tugs me into his mouth, lapping up the arousal that’s already there for him.
“You’re a wicked little thing,” he groans into me. “You’re just as dangerous as me.” He shoves my legs open wider, running his tongue from my clit to my asshole. “You deserve to be worshipped for that.”
I thread my fingers through his hair, my grip tightening as I begin to grind against him, my hips desperately chasing my release.
“Slow down,” he pants into me, his fingers digging into my skin as he holds me in place. “There’s no rush to cum.”
“I need it,” I whimper. “You make me feel so good.”
He sucks my clit between his lips and applies just enough pressure for me to arch my back and cry out again. “You want to cum, don’t you?”
I rock back and forth against his face. “Please, Matysh. Please let me cum.”
“Fuck, I can’t say no to that.” He picks up his pace, hoisting my legs into the air over his shoulders. My body tenses, my toes curl, and I cling to him with white knuckles.
“Oh my god, Matysh!” I scream, not expecting this at all. My pussy pulses, and I can’t stop the explosion from happening; my release is long and powerful as he drags it out by working me over.
Finally, he pulls away, but I’m given no break. The head of his cock replaces his mouth, and he spreads my pussy lips open with it, his eyes hooded with lust.
I squirm against him, the sensation almost too much to bear after the orgasm I had.
“You’re so beautiful,” he says, his eyes jumping up to meet mine. “I don’t need another fucking woman for the rest of my life.”
He kisses me then, his tongue infiltrating my mouth as I crane my neck to meet him. I taste myself on his tongue, and it sends a fresh wave of arousal through my body. He’s so damn addictive.
“I'm going to make you mine every night for the rest of your life,” Matysh growls, gripping my waist with a free hand. He drags my body back onto him, not giving me a chance to adjust to his size as he buries his dick in me.
“Matysh,” I explode, holding his gaze as I cling to him, my fingernails breaking the skin on his biceps.
“That’s it,” he breathes out, pumping in and out of me. “I can fuck you like this forever and never get enough. I want you to feel every possible pleasure, only ever getting that from me.” His hips thud against mine, and I start to whimper with every connection.
“Yes,” I moan, closing my eyes as I brace myself for the pleasure about to ripple through me. “My body is yours.”
“And mine is yours,” he grunts out, the statement almost as shocking as the guttural, explosive groan that comes from him as he releases into me.
Feeling the warmth spread throughout my body, I can’t hold back as my pussy clenches around him, and I cry out from another quick orgasm, my pussy milking his cock for the remainder of his cum.
“Catarina, you were made for me,” he whispers as we both pant in the aftershocks, leaning down and taking my lips possessively with his.
When we finally break away, a slight smile tugs at his lips. “I think I’ll draw us that bath now.”
I nod.
I think I can get used to calling this forever.