39. LACEY
Chapter thirty-nine
N ik carried me from the Bentley to the elevator.
I was whiskey-warm, wine-tipsy, and Champagne-dizzy—still reeling from a night that had flipped my world on its axis.
The elevator seemed to rocket upward as my nervous anticipation grew.
My gaze stayed locked on his face, searching for any hint of his mood.
He was stoic, save for the tic in his jaw.
Tonight, he had been different with me—quieter, more reserved.
The diamond-encircled band caught my eye again on the hand draped around his neck.
The thought that I was now Mrs. Nikolai Aleksandr Volkov was surreal…
unfathomable. Me—a small-town country girl—married to a Russian mafia king.
It was absurd, outrageous. I couldn’t help but giggle at the mental image of my preacher grandpa inviting him over for Sunday dinner.
The tattoos alone would probably spark a riot if Nik set foot in Cosby.
The elevator doors slid open, and without a word, Nik carried me straight through the dark living room and into his bedroom. The only light came from the skyline beyond the massive windows, a silvery glow spilling across the hardwood floors.
“Welcome home, my wife,” he murmured, setting me on my feet. We stood side by side, his hand warm on the small of my back, staring out over Central Park and Fifth Avenue. Behind us, the bedroom stretched in shadow—the king-size bed looming like a promise.
A shiver shot through me, a rush of nerves tangled with anticipation. Would it hurt as badly this time? Or would I melt into him, letting the moment sweep me away? Would he be merciless as he claimed me…or would he teach me how to turn my submission into pleasure—and how to please him in return?
Nik stepped over to the bar and poured two shots of vodka. He handed one to me and lifted his own in a toast.
“Za dolguyu zhizn’ muzh i zhena,” he said in a low voice.
We clinked glasses and tossed the drinks back. I immediately coughed and sputtered.
Nik laughed under his breath. “To a long life as husband and wife,” he translated.
I giggled, wiping the corner of my mouth. “You could’ve warned me. That stuff is liquid fire, worse than the whiskey at Xyst.”
“Where’s the fun in that, my feisty bride?”
My stomach fluttered.
Nik poured himself another shot and set it on the nightstand before coming back to me.
Then he reached out and swept my hair over one shoulder, exposing the line of my neck.
His lips brushed the sensitive spot just below my ear, slowly and deliberately, in a kiss that made my knees threaten to give.
“You’re perfect,” he murmured. “Not just in body, but in spirit. You’ve stood your ground with me, fought me when you thought you should, and given yourself when you didn’t have to.” His mouth traced a path lower. “That’s the woman I want at my side.”
I swallowed, my pulse pounding. “At your side for what, exactly?”
“For everything,” he said simply. “You’re my wife.
My queen. The one who stands beside me in every battle and every victory.
We’ll build together, burn together, and if it comes to it…
” His lips found the hollow of my throat, lingering there before he whispered, “We’ll die together.
Because I’m not letting go of you. Ever. ”
A shiver ran through me. His words were both a promise and a threat.
Nik straightened, his eyes finding mine in the window’s reflection. “That’s what marriage means to me, Lacey. Not flowers and cake. It’s life or death, bound together until the end.”
Then, with one smooth motion, he shrugged off his jacket and let it drop onto the dresser. Then he unfastened his cuff links and tossed them onto the nightstand before rolling up his sleeves.
I stood there, my breath caught in my throat, staring at our reflections in the window. I still couldn’t believe this was my life now.
Nik stepped behind me and began undoing the silk-covered buttons running down the back of my dress. With each one he unfastened, he placed a kiss along my spine, trailing heat in his wake.
When he reached the final button, he gently slipped the sleeves from my shoulders. The dress pooled around my feet like a cloud.
He wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me back into him and splaying one of his hands over my bare stomach. The other slid lower, brushing over the lace between my thighs.
“Beautiful things,” he whispered darkly, “come wrapped in lace.”
He reached up to cup my breast through the delicate fabric of the bra, and I let out a soft, helpless moan.
Then he moved back and offered me his hand as I stepped carefully out of the dress. He picked it up and placed it on an armchair with unexpected care.
From his pocket, he pulled out his phone and tapped an app. The lights came on, casting a warm golden glow around the room.
Nik turned me to face the opposite corner. And that was when I saw it.
A sleek, freestanding pole-dancing platform gleamed under a spotlight.
I blinked. “You— What?”
Nik’s voice dropped to a delicious growl as he said, “Now, wife, you will perform for me. For my eyes alone. If another man ever dares look at you on a pole, I’ll carve his fucking eyes out. Tonight, your wedding gift to me is to let me watch you make love to that steel between your thighs.”
Heat surged through me.
I’d never wanted anyone’s eyes on me more than I wanted Nik’s right now.
The blush-colored lace bra and panties Aria had chosen clung to me like they’d been made for his gaze alone—delicate and sinful all at once, the most beautiful costume I’d ever worn.
I knew the moment I stepped onto that platform, he’d belong to me in a way no vow or ring could ever signify.
Confidence slid into my bones like muscle memory.
I lifted my chin, crossed the room, and stepped up to the pole, ready to put these sexy little stilettos to good use.
Nik followed me across the room, drink in hand, sinking into the armchair on the far side of the bed. He spread his legs wide, resting the glass on his thigh as his gaze traced over me with the hunger of a wolf ready to devour his prey.
I slid one hand up the pole, arching my back slightly. “Any music?”
Nik glanced at his phone and tapped a button. A slow, pulsing beat filled the air—The Weeknd’s “Earned It.”
“Perfect,” I whispered.
And then I danced.
For him.
For my husband.
I curled my fingers around the cold steel, the metal grounding me even as my heart raced. My diamond-studded wedding band glinted under the light, a reminder that I was his.
I tipped my chin toward Nik, who sat in the chair like a king presiding over his throne room. His gaze pinned me as securely as a hand at the back of my neck.
I inhaled slowly, letting confidence flood my limbs. I’d danced for audiences before, but never for one man I wanted to please more than anything in the world. Never for a man whose desire radiated like heat across the room.
I stepped into a body wave, letting each vertebra roll one at a time as my hips swayed to the beat and my palm glided higher along the pole.
Then I pivoted on my heel and began to climb, hand over hand, the cool steel sliding beneath my grip.
My thighs gripped the pole, my body curling against it in a slow rise.
Nik watched me like a predator—like he had in the alley that night.
“Show me, wife,” he murmured, his baritone voice carrying easily over the music. “Show me how you move when it’s only for me to see.”
I pivoted into a fireman spin, my thighs brushing the pole as I descended in a slow spiral. When my heels touched down again and I rose, I hooked my inside leg high, pressing my calf to the steel in a chair spin that gave him a perfect view between my thighs.
The bulge in his pants was obvious now. The fabric strained as his fingers flexed on the armrest.
I smiled and climbed again. The basic climb carried me high enough for me to execute a cross-knee release. I arched my back until my hair brushed the platform behind me. When I caught sight of the way his eyes darkened with desire, my body hummed with pleasure.
“Keep dancing like that, little lamb,” he rumbled, “and every roll of those hips will be a promise I intend to collect.”
A shiver rippled through me.
I slid down in a controlled descent, turned my back to him, and melted into a body wave and then an invert, catching the pole between my thighs as I hung upside down. My hips rolled slowly, the stretch pulling my bra lower.
Nik’s jaw flexed like he was biting back a command.
Before my feet touched the floor again, his patience snapped.
One second, I was arching into another hip roll. The next, his hands were at my waist, lifting me from the platform.
Nik carried me to the foot of the bed and set me on my feet, his chest brushing mine, his scent filling my lungs. The music still pulsed in the background.
His fingers found the clasp of my bra. With a flick, the straps slid down my arms. The lace hit the floor before I could blink.
His mouth trailed fire from my shoulder, across my collarbone, down the valley between my breasts, and lower still, until he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of my panties.
He slid them swiftly down my thighs. By the time they hit the floor, his mouth was already at the crest of my mound, his breath hot against my skin. He gripped my ass and lifted me onto the edge of the mattress.
Then he stepped back, his eyes raking over me from head to toe.
“Wife,” he said, voice all gravely and bossy, “show me how you please yourself. I want to watch your fingers as you touch your pretty little pussy, as you warm yourself up for me. I want to see that needy little cunt of yours come all over your fingers.”
Heat rushed to my cheeks, but my body throbbed with desire at the order.
“Spread your legs wide,” he added gruffly. “I want to see you dripping down that tight little puckered ring.”