Chapter 21
Chapter
Twenty-One
Lucy
I woke up in a strange room, but then before panicking, I twisted to see a sculpted muscular expanse of chest, shoulder, and arm with a network of intricately woven tattoos. A dragon. A bleeding heart. Skulls. A grungy rose with torn petals and drops of blood. Fire.
Oh, sweet hell.
Then I remembered. Even before I lifted my gaze to my husband’s ridiculously handsome face, I remembered.
I’d been so buzzed, I lost all inhibitions and let Kirill take care of me.
He was sleeping on top of the covers, on his back with his left arm crooked under his head.
He was wearing dark gray pajama bottoms that sat low on his hips.
Low enough, it exposed a dusting of hair that led to his nether regions.
I gulped. Kirill’s cock was outlined clearly.
Even in its relaxed state, it was impressive. Damn, my husband was a fine specimen.
Then, as if I willed it, his erection started taking shape, hardening before my eyes. I blinked.
“Are you going to do something about it?” his rough voice rumbled.
My gaze flew to his face. His eyes were still closed, but his mouth was tilted into a faint smile.
“I…I’m parched,” I said helplessly.
“There’s water beside you.” His eyes were half open now.
I sat up and angled my body to pour cucumber and mint water into a glass and drank it. It was almost five. I had slept for two hours. Maybe less.
But the fact was, I had slept beside my husband. I didn’t know what door that opened in our relationship.
“I…I need to go back to my room.” Maybe shower. There was an unbearable pinch between my legs, almost like an itch. I had to squeeze my thighs together. God, did he eat my pussy while I slept and leave me hanging? I didn’t remember any erotic dreams.
I was about to scramble out of bed when I found myself hauled back and under my husband.
His weight bore down, and his hips wedged between my legs. His erection rubbed right where I needed him the most. He was hard and long. I stifled a moan. Delicious and scandalous.
His eyes darkened, and his jaw hardened. “It’s been torture, waiting for you to wake up.”
His face was an inch from mine and his scotch-scented breath made me want to kiss him.
“Are you still drunk?” he rasped.
I shook my head, but I wasn’t sure what else to say.
I wasn’t outraged. Why wasn’t I outraged?
Because I understood him more. From what Aralina told me and what he divulged on the rooftop, my husband was a man shaped by the harsh bratva life.
There was more to process, but there was a thread inside me that wanted to reach out to him.
He was my husband after all. A man of contradictions.
Despite the way he sought revenge, it was backfiring.
I wasn’t the one losing sleep.
He was.
My tormented husband.
“God, I want to fuck you.” His roughened voice made my pussy pulse in answering need. He dropped his forehead to mine. “Fight me. Stop me.”
My heart threatened to pound out of my rib cage. “I don’t know if I can.”
His mouth crushed mine. His tongue ruthlessly plunged inside me as he savagely kissed me.
My mind short-circuited and I responded with the same intensity.
Our tongues and teeth clashed. His hands skimmed my sides.
When he cupped my breasts, tweaking my nipples, I gasped into his mouth, realizing that he was touching me bare, skin to skin.
A growl rumbled in his throat, and he tore his mouth away. My shirt was bunched up on my collarbone, and he attacked my breasts. Biting the side before he sucked in a nipple. And as if that weren’t enough, his teeth grazed it.
I cried out, surprised by the erotic sensation that it evoked. I grabbed his hair, but I did nothing to stop him. He continued sucking and swirling, tonguing around it before he headed lower.
And lower.
He peppered kisses on my belly button and the skin around it.
“I can smell you, Lusenka. I’ve been dying to bury my face in your pussy.” His tongue speared the top of my mound through my cotton undies.
“I didn’t expect you to be wearing virginal white underwear,” he mumbled. “But I like it. I want to do bad things to you. Make you blush to the roots of your hair. I want you to come all over my mouth, my fingers, and my cock.”
I attempted to squeeze my thighs, and I managed briefly, but it was because Kirill stripped me of my panties.
Before I could react, he shoved my legs apart, and then he was there. His mouth fell on my pussy, attacking it with relentless ferocity. He yanked my hips closer and threw my legs over his shoulders. He immediately lapped me up in broad, hard swipes before fastening on my clit.
I exploded and screamed. Goose bumps radiated across my skull, and my toes curled.
Oh my God.
Endless pulses rocked my pussy, and I swelled against his lips. Like all my blood had rushed to it.
Kirill inserted his fingers inside me, pumping in and out. I was embarrassingly wet.
“You’ve drenched my fingers, baby,” he rasped. “But I need to get you ready.”
“Ready?” I croaked.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he said almost grimly. It stirred a smidge of anxiety inside me. “You’re so small and tight.” He must have added another finger. He continued pumping them in and out of me. “Your pussy is so greedy, but I worry when I give you my cock.”
I breathed a laugh even as I was still spasming from my orgasm. “Only one way to find out.”
“I want to feast on you some more. I want to drown in your smell. Your addictive taste.” He rose.
“But I can’t wait.” He crawled up my body and fell on me again.
He gave me a devouring kiss before his fingers gripped my jaw with one hand.
“Watch me. Watch me take you.” He leaned forward while his other arm disappeared between us.
The blunt head of his cock crowned at my entrance.
He was working his cock inside me.
“It’s been a while for you?” he gritted.
“Does it matter?” I gritted back. What the hell was he putting inside me? A rolling pin?
“Relax. You need to let me in,” he growled. He glanced down, brows furrowing. “You’re incredibly tight.”
“Well, I’m not a virgin…ow…”
“Fuck,” he muttered and withdrew. I held my breath as he edged in again, withdrew, and inched in. He did this repeatedly. Each time, I could feel myself stretch uncomfortably to accommodate him.
Just when I thought I couldn’t take any more, he breathed easy. “I’m in.”
“Thank God.”
Sweat beaded his forehead, and I was steaming myself.
“You’re gripping me so well. I’m not gonna last.” He peered down. “You okay?”
“Yes…” My body yielded around him. Kirill was huge, and I’d never been wedged so snugly in my life.
As if there were no wiggle room. But my excitement returned, mostly because I trusted Kirill knew what he was doing.
There was something exhilarating about surrendering to an experienced man.
His words at the rooftop echoed in my head about not having met the right overbearing man.
He started moving. Slowly at first, for the first few strokes as if preparing me some more.
Then he pumped harder, faster. He joined his hands above my head and rested his elbows on my shoulders as if to lock me in place.
Then he let loose. He went faster and faster.
The slapping of flesh, the grunts, and moans of sex filled the room.
After minutes of relentless pounding, he relaxed his lock on my body, and his hand came between us. His fingers pinched my clit, and I went off like a firecracker. “Kirill!”
“That’s it,” he demanded. “Come for me. Come for your husband.”
He gripped my wrists with one hand while he continued pounding. His face was a map of anguish and desperation as he chased his own release. Finally, when I thought he’d leave me bruised and raw, I felt him grow harder, larger, and he groaned an expletive before collapsing on top of me.
He was breathing hard. We both were. He’d pinned me to the mattress, but somehow I felt his vulnerability. I was feeling vulnerable myself. What just happened between me and Kirill redefined what I thought was good sex.
This was fucking. Phenomenal fucking.
Kirill continued to move, circling his hips slowly as if he was milking every drop of his…
Shit.
“Kirill…”
“Give me a second to recover, baby, then I can go again.” Amusement laced his tone.
I slapped his shoulder. “You didn’t use a condom!”
He sighed and raised his head. “How is this a problem? We’re married.” He arched a brow. “I’m clean. And I know you are.”
Oh, right. He knew my medical history? He probably knew I was on the birth control shot too. I glared at him.
“I haven’t fucked anyone since we signed Margo’s intent to marry. I already told you I didn’t cheat.”
Still, I was annoyed. “Let me up.”
“No.”
I sharpened my gaze. “I need a shower.”
His answer was to dig his pelvis harder into mine, and damn him if that didn’t send a wave of residual pulsing at my center. I couldn’t smother the satisfying moan that left my lips. It was sooo good.
He was in no hurry to withdraw. “I’m enjoying this position.” He traced my forehead and cleared the hair from my face. “So we finally consummated. You’re my wife in every way.”
“I don’t even know what that means.”
“It means, Mrs. Zahkarova, no more separate bedrooms. I want to fuck you every night in every position.”
“I’m not a fuck toy.”
He chuckled. “Oh, you’re going to enjoy being my fuck toy, but like I said, you’re my wife.” He pulled out of me, and I winced when my muscles complained.
The T-shirt was still bunched across my chest, and I yanked it down to rescue my dignity, but not before I saw Kirill rake his teeth over his bottom lip suggestively.
Then he raised his gaze to mine. They burned through me.
There were no doubts about what he was thinking.
He wanted to fuck me again. And dear God, I was looking forward to it too.
He sat on the edge of the bed. “You’re my wife, and I intend to make this marriage more tolerable. Fantastic sex helps, but we couldn’t fuck like bunnies and not at least like each other.”
Surprised, I propped up on my elbows and scooted against the headboard. “I didn’t realize liking each other was a requirement.”
“I didn’t make myself clear. I want to have repeated access to your body. I do understand that, for women, it might entail some kind of affection.”
“And for men, I guess, it’s just sex.”
He frowned. “You fascinate me. I care about your welfare. That’s a start, right?”
Surprisingly, I wasn’t offended. What we had started with was already more than what most arranged marriages had.
Though Kirill wasn’t a sociopath, he was emotionally stagnant.
He couldn’t identify emotions or refused to identify them.
I believed he was jealous of Trevor earlier, and he didn’t like that one bit, and that was why he canceled his appointments for the afternoon to spend time with me.
“I guess.” My mouth curved. “So what are you proposing besides sexual activity?”
He chuckled. An unfamiliar but pleasing sound.
This was Kirill with his guard lowered. Mine had taken a hike after several glasses of wine, and I hadn’t recovered it yet after my nap.
I didn’t regret the sex. Yet. Not with the multiple explosive orgasms Kirill had given me.
Would getting amazing sex out of this marriage be so bad?
Except, I didn’t think I could separate the act from emotion if we kept having it.
I’d had two one-night stands in my entire life. Sex with a stranger was overrated.
Second thoughts plagued me. I didn’t want to be emotionally attached to an emotionally detached husband.
Maybe this should be a onetime thing. I eyed the magnificent specimen of a man who singlehandedly gave me the best sex of my life.
Maybe it was a fluke. All the frustration of dealing with him led to this explosion.
Kirill watched me intently. It was as if he could read my mind. “How about I come home early this week? See if we can tolerate having dinner and conversation every night.”
I laughed briefly. “That’s quite a challenge.”
“I like challenges.” He got up and extended his hand. “Shower?”
I stared at it for a beat before I shook my head and got off the bed. “I think I’ll shower in my room. I…”
He blocked my path, frowning. “Don’t tell me you’re regretting the sex already.”
“I’m not.” I stopped his momentum by planting a hand on his chest. “I’m not a prude, but showering together sounds too intimate, too soon.”
This time his laugh was mocking. “I had my mouth on you. I came inside you. That’s as intimate as it gets.”
“Also, I’m not prepared to share a room.”
He scratched his brow. “In case you missed what I said earlier, we consummated the marriage. We share a room. Is that too intimate for you too?” His expression became unreadable, even though his question dripped with sarcasm.
My chin inched up. “Let me think about it.”
Kirill’s jaw hardened. “I won’t have you retreating.”
“I won’t.” When I reached the door, I threw a seductive look over my shoulder. His eyes had been glued to my ass. Unlike the bland look on his face, they were burning through me, but it was his fists clenching tight that clued me in about the tenuous hold he had on his control.
Like a bolt of lightning, it struck me. Oh, to have such control over a powerful man. Intoxicating like a drug, so why not see where this would go?
I winked. “In fact, I’m keeping your shirt.”
And on that note, I left the room.