Chapter 22 Raisa
RAISA
Closing my eyes tighter didn’t block it. This pressure to cave to this one man was insurmountable.
When he talked like this, it was as if he was reaching out to my heart. Yearning like I was.
“You have been mine since that first night we met,” he growled, pulling his long, hard dick out of me slowly.
The tight drag was torture, lighting up every nerve ending in my entire body.
It didn’t matter how, where, or when we came together like this.
Eight years ago or now. In my bed or his.
Him on top or me riding him. However we clashed like this, it was a visceral, soul-crushing affection that nothing could break.
And his words made sense. I wasn’t so far gone yet in this intimacy that I couldn’t interpret his husky words.
I always had been his just as he’d been mine. We clicked and connected, and even time apart couldn’t stop this draw and magnetism.
Eight years was a long time. And it was for that long that I’d been convinced he hadn’t wanted me. That he’d cheated. That I hadn’t been the love of his life like he was mine.
“I missed you too,” I replied, straining to arch into him as he slid back inside me.
Every move of his thickness stretched me, and I would never tire of the thrill of taking this man deep in my pussy.
I’d never bore of the harsh friction of his hairier, hard, muscled body rubbing against mine as I welcomed him to fuck me faster.
“No.” He kissed me, ending it with a nip on my lip. “No, Raisa. I didn’t just miss you.”
He rolled, not withdrawing, until I straddled him. Impaled on his big dick as he sat with his back against the headboard, I fell into an instant rhythm of riding him. Back and forth. Digging down as I spread my legs to ensure a snugger fit. In and out. And it was perfection.
“I loved you,” he vowed as he watched my breasts bounce and sway. He licked his lips and set his hands on my hips to urge me to keep fucking him. “I love you. I never stopped, and I never will.”
I frowned, wishing I could be in the right frame of mind to argue with him about that.
He wasn’t playing fair, this seduction game of his.
First, he disarmed me and made me lose interest in refusing to answer him.
Seduced to talk, I was putty in his hands.
We both knew it. Now, though, he was trying to claim these boasts of love when I wasn’t thinking straight, only feeling all of him.
“You couldn’t have loved me if you were ever with that woman and—”
“I wasn’t.” He dug his fingers into my hips as he bucked his pelvis up. The extra push up of his dick inside me nearly made me come right then and there. “I lied, Raisa. I am not sorry I lied. I am only sorry I had to.”
“But…” I shook my head, determined not to believe him. I had to stay strong and guarded. If I let myself love him again, there would be no going back.
“I knew Konstantin would try to break us up. Or hurt one of us. And I couldn’t live with myself if any harm came to you. You never would’ve believed me if I said I was done, so I had to make it believable. To spare you from his ever finding out.”
I groaned as he added a finger to my clit, rubbing steadily to further tease me to come.
Yet, I had to stop this trend of his having the last word.
“That almost makes sense,” I said between panted breaths.
“But nothing has changed. The rumors about my father’s death are not new.
Why didn’t you come for me sooner if you missed me and wanted me back? ”
“Because I feared you wouldn’t want me. Because I was worried however you’d felt about me before wouldn’t be true anymore.” He furrowed his brow, unable to take his gaze off me.
No. The real reason is that you knew Luka still wouldn’t want you to be with someone from a rival family. That’s all it is.
The commitment Ivan had for his family, for his uncle, would always be as strong or stronger than this supposed love he thought we could still share.
And that was why I couldn’t risk giving him all of myself again.
My heart was off-limits. I wouldn’t be seduced or conned into opening up to him any more than like this.
I’d let him into my body. I’d give him clearance to fuck me.
But common sense had me holding back and not trusting him completely.
I could trust him with my son’s safety, too, but never my heart.
“Raisa.” He paired his stern tone with another flip, landing me beneath him again. Grabbing my thigh and hoisting it up as he pounded into me, he ensured a deeper fit. “I love you.”
I shook my head, almost to the brink of tears for how he tempted me to really let go and believe in the illusion of love. “Just fuck me, Ivan.”
“Trust me,” he begged. “I love you. And nothing will ever change that.”
“You love me,” I parroted. “But would you always fight for me?” If he had an answer to give me, I didn’t hear it.
Under the pressure to come, I snapped. The tension split, breaking apart as he rammed his cock into me at this angle.
He groaned lightly, arching his back and showing me how his neck strained with flexed tendons and muscles there.
We came together, but as I soared then sank with the rising and falling nature of such a rush and release, I clung to the common sense he could not fuck out of me.
I wanted to believe him. I was desperate not to be alone in this world and to trust him. Convincing myself that he was worthy of my love and trust was no simple feat, though.
He’d burned me once. Even if he’d faked that affair just to make me hate him and stay away, the damage had been done. He’d broken my heart once too easily. He could do it again.
Because every time his duty to his family would be an issue, he would choose appeasing his uncle and following his orders first. He would vow his servitude and life to that man, not me.
All due to the fact that I was a Petrov, he had to stand on one side or the other. His uncle hated my father, and vice versa, and that was a dynamic Ivan and I couldn’t change.
He collapsed over me, then rolled so I lay spent and exhausted on top of him.
We caught our breath, still united as close as two people ever could be.
And even like this, physically tied to each other as our hearts stopped racing as fast in the aftermath of our climaxes, I knew that nothing would ever change.
My father could very well be dead like everyone assumed he was, and still, I would be viewed as the enemy.
Not family.
Not as Ivan’s, regardless of how fiercely he wanted me to agree with the notion that I was his forever.