Chapter Lucie - Four Years Later
LUCIE - FOUR YEARS LATER
My hands are moist when I climb onto the platform, and my legs are weak, barely carrying me to where the University Chairman holds my degree.
In a daze, I shake his hand, accept the piece of paper and move on, another student taking my place. I go through the motions, stomach fluttering with excitement and a deep sense of accomplishment.
I did it.
I graduated in psychology. And I already have a job waiting for me in London, at Gisele Harold’s practice.
After two successful internships over the past two summers, we’ve grown close.
I look up to her and what she built, and I believe the Ventura-Dobrev coalition could use a psychologist. The Sopranos was far from the truth of what it looks like to help mafiosos with their psyche, but the idea still has me smiling.
A massive frame comes running towards me, then I’m lifted off my feet and twirled in the air. I giggle and hold onto Toma’s shoulders. When he stops turning, he holds me to his chest, my feet still not touching the floor. “I’m so proud of you, ru?ica moja.”
“Thank you, amore.”
He looks so good in his black suit, tailored to fit his big body. He’s filled out again, and I bite my lip at how the material of his shirt stretches on his stomach, highlighting his strength. I love how small I look next to him, my blue maxi dress contrasting perfectly with his attire.
Behind him, my family waits for their turn to embrace me and congratulate me.
Dante, Irina, Aleksei, my dad, Michel and Diane all made the trip to Edinburgh to watch me step onto that stage and collect my degree.
Their presence is a soft balm to my heart.
With the most important people of my life by my side, I feel invincible.
The lunch we have together is animated, full of laughter.
My dad and Dante are too loud, Irina and Aleksei wrinkling their noses at the display of exuberance though the fondness they hold for their lover is obvious when they refill his plate or glass, and all the silent touches.
Toma’s heavy hand never leaves my thigh under the table, his thumb a soothing and constant back and forth. Toma can never not touch me. He always finds excuses for a soft caress or a gentle hold. I love it. And give back just as much.
“I’m taking you somewhere more private after lunch,” he murmurs in my ear. I blush, the promise of his words sending heat through my body. I was hoping we’d get some time alone. I have a surprise for him, and I don’t know how he’ll react.
After a long lunch, when everyone is satisfied that we’ve celebrated my success enough, Toma guides me to his bike with a hand on my lower back.
He opens the compartment under the seat and hands me my pink helmet, and padded leather jacket.
Riding with my dress won’t be easy, but he says we’re not going far.
Just our hidden spot, by Dr Neil’s Garden.
We discovered it a few years ago and have gone back to it many times.
When we arrive, he parks the motorcycle behind a canopy of trees, hidden from any trails, and helps me off. Before I can walk the short distance to the bench we like to make out on for hours, Toma looms over me, effectively blocking my path and fixing me in place with his hips. Against his bike.
His erection is heavy against my stomach.
“Toma, what—”
My question is answered with his mouth on mine, and his hands kneading my breasts.
I moan into his mouth and open for him to claim me.
He doesn’t waste the opportunity. His hands rove over my body, urgent and needy.
Together, we bunch the fabric of my dress over my hips and Toma slides a hand into my underwear, finding me wet for him. “Fuck, Lu.”
If he makes me desperate for him, I know the feeling is mutual. I press my palm to the thick length of him against his suit pants. My reward is a low growl and snapping teeth on my neck, making me whimper.
“Fuck, Lu. I need to fuck you. Show you how proud I am of you. How crazy you make me.”
“Yes, please. Yes to all of it.”
I shift and remove my knickers, and he pockets them with a smirk, before turning me around and placing a gentle hand on my back. I bend over the bike, resting my chest on it.
Thick fingers toy with my entrance and I push back on my forearms, trying to get them inside me. “You’re so needy, Lu. Fuck, that makes me hard.”
“Fuck me, piccolo. Show me I’m yours.” My voice is raspy, thick with arousal and challenge. And Toma delivers.
He removes his fingers. I almost complain but the sound of a zipper dragged open stops me.
Then, the head of his cock is where I need him, the metal of his piercing slightly cold against my clit.
A shiver runs up my spine. I relax onto the surface underneath me, the smell of leather and faint cigarette smell fuelling my need.
“Beg me, ru?ica moja. Beg me to fuck this cunt like it’s mine.”
“Please. Please, amore. I’m yours. This pussy is yours. Fuck me. Own me.”
His thick cock stretches me slowly as he pushes his hips forward and does exactly what I begged him to do.
I grow wetter at the low groan escaping his chest, the way he clenches his fingers on my hips, bruising and filled with desire.
Slow but sharp thrusts have me keening and moaning, uncaring that anyone might walk in on us.
Toma pumps his hips in and out until I’m begging him to fuck me harder. He lifts my right leg and places my knee on the seat, opening me up more for him to take me roughly.
Then, he’s unhinged.
“Touch your clit, Lu. Make yourself come on my cock. I want you to gush all over me and the seat underneath.”
His command is filthy and makes me go wild. I buck against him, seeking more of his rough thrusts, chasing his cock when he withdraws, hungry for more. “Oh fuck,” I cry out when I shift and we find a new angle, his piercing hitting a perfect spot inside of me that has me soaring through my climax.
Toma comes inside me in hot spurts of cum as I spasm against his flesh. He turns my face to the side and owns my lips as we orgasm together, hard and fast like teenagers who don’t want to be caught.
I close my eyes, flashes behind my eyelids and liquid pleasure spreading through my veins. When Toma stills inside me, we’re both breathing hard. He peppers my shoulder with kisses and showers me with words of love. I’ve never felt so free and happy.
I wince when he withdraws and cum slides down my legs but when I hold my hand to get my panties back, Toma grins and shakes his head. “You know I love to know it runs down your thighs.”
I roll my eyes. “Fine. But I’m wiping it down before we get back home.”
“Deal.” Toma drops a kiss to my mouth before taking my hand and sauntering to our bench. I trace our names he carved with his knife when we first stumbled upon this place.
“Volim te,” he says, his face soft and glowing. I’m sure I must look the same.
“Volim te, Toma Kova?.”
Then I take a breath, holding it a second too long. He knows me too well and notices straight away, frowning and spine straight. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, amore. I have something to tell you.”
My gaze drops down to our interlaced fingers before meeting his eyes again. Rich brown shines with love and a softness that only developed recently, after years of working with Gisele and away from ground work. I lift my hand to his shaven cheek.
Toma leans into me.
Here goes nothing.
“I’m pregnant.”
He stills. I think he stops breathing altogether. His eyes widen comically before his lips part but no sound comes out. Then his eyes fall to my stomach. It’s too early to show, but my period has always been regular, so after two weeks of missing it, the test was immediately conclusive.
I nod.
And nod.
And nod again.
Tears blur my vision. For once, they aren’t tears of grief and pain. They’re pure joy. And are reflected in the eyes of the man I love. They fall on his cheeks for a few seconds before he sweeps me off my seat and onto his lap, burying his head into my hair.
“I’m going to be a father?” he asks.
I hear the faint taint of fear behind the question and lift his head with my index under his chin. “You’ll be the best father this kid can have.”
“You believe that?”
“I believe that. I believe in you. In us.”
Once again, Toma drops his forehead to the crook of my neck, holding a sob before letting it go. I hold him to me while he cries. Of joy. Of hope. His kiss is wet and salty when he comes up to press his lips on mine.
“You’re the best thing that ever happened to me, ru?ica moja.”
“Volim te, Toma Kova?.”
“Volim te, Lucie Kova?,” he answers with a cheeky grin on his wet cheeks.
I laugh. Nod.
He drops to his knees, sliding a ring I didn’t know he had in his pocket onto my finger, and kisses me silly for hours, until the sun goes down on Edinburgh.
THE END