Chapter 14 Julian #2
It’s been so long since I’ve heard him say my name. My body doesn’t realise the difference in the tone. I burn for him, ready to ignite it all to save him. Burn this fucking town to the ground if it means I can get him home.
We size each other up. The veins on his forearms pop, his muscles tense. I like to believe it’s because he’s trying his hardest not to touch me.
Slowly, giving him ample time to step back or stop me—and I know he could—I land my hands on his hips. The touch is featherlight, but energy sizzles underneath my fingers, electricity shooting straight into my veins.
“Julian,” he says again.
This time, it’s a plea. And I refuse him. My fingers remain barely a whisper of a touch as I skim his sides.
“I’ve dreamt of this exact moment since you were taken,” I murmur.
His eyes close and his forehead drops, but his feet have a mind of their own and close the minuscule gap between us until I can feel the heat radiating off his chest. When his gaze meets mine again, thunder threatens to break the storm between us.
I’ll fucking let it. When it comes to Igor Petrov, I’d let everything break me if it means I get to have him.
I’m not above begging. I’m not above killing.
“Fuck it.”
He slants his mouth on mine.
And I fall with him.
His kiss is all consuming, his body plastered to mine, his hands in my hair and around my throat.
He tilts my head back as he likes with a thumb under my jaw.
I follow. What else would I do? Anywhere Igor takes me, I’ll go.
And he takes me to the brink of madness with that single kiss.
His tongue delves deeper into my mouth just as he steps even closer.
Even if I wanted to flee—and I fucking don’t—I wouldn’t be able to with how pressed against the wall I am.
“How is it that we always end up kissing and fucking on the sides of random buildings?” I ask him, panting into his mouth.
I groan when he descends towards my neck and bites down, more animal than man. I revel in that side of him. He doesn’t indulge often. Distance and time may have almost destroyed me, but fuck if it isn’t a recipe for the inferno consuming us.
“Because you always push me, pup.”
“I think you’re the one doing the pushing, baby, considering I’m flat against a dirty wall.”
“Always so fucking mouthy,” he mutters before reversing our positions and pressing on my shoulders. “Take me out.”
I comply, way too happy to get on my knees for my husband. Fumbling with his jeans, I open the zipper and pull his boxers down just enough to free his massive cock, salivating as it comes into view.
Igor grips his base and feeds me his dick before I have opened my mouth fully, shutting me up the best way he can.
Gagging me and fucking me within an inch of my life works, too, but beggars can’t be choosers.
We’re still in semi-public and I’m happy enough if I get his cum.
He can fuck me in the plane back. And then again tomorrow morning before I cook him his breakfast.
He slaps my face a few times, jarring me and making my cock leak at the tip. “No daydreaming. Suck my cock, pup.”
If my lips could stretch, I’d smile. I’d also tell him that technically, it’s night so it’s not day-dreaming, but again, occupied mouth.
I love it when he gets growly and dominant like this. He exudes pure masculine strength above all the vulnerability he tries and fails to hide from me. It gets my head all floaty and my body ready to burst at the barest touch.
His fingers thread through the strands of my hair I’ve let loose as he uses my mouth.
I suck the head and hollow my cheeks the way he likes, fondling his balls to draw out that guttural whimper that makes me wild.
Igor doesn’t disappoint and I’m almost ready to blow even though he hasn’t touched me yet.
“Fuck, you feel so good,” he says through clenches teeth.
I’m about to do it again when he withdraws and drags me up right, turning my body like I’m his doll and positioning me as he wants.
“Hands on the wall. I’ve got to fuck you, malysh.”
My eyes flutter close at the nickname and I obey him.
He makes quick work of my own jeans, jerking me with rough strokes of his hand. I whimper, already so sensitive, and he kisses my nape, whispering dirty things in both Russian and English.
“You always get so needy when you suck my cock, pup. It drives me mad.”
I hear him spit, then feel his fingers probe at my puckered hole. Massaging, teasing, rimming. I press against the wall to get him closer, to get him inside me. He chuckles roughly against my skin, sending my body on overdrive.
“This will be hard and fast, pup. You better brace yourself.”
Plastic rips behind me. A wet sound, barely audible and strange in the almost silent alley, resounds before cold sluices against my inner muscles.
“Fuck, baby. Do you always travel with lube in your pockets?”
“The club is full of single use packets.”
“So what? You saw me and thought ‘let me fuck my dirty husband in the alleyway or the toilet’?” I ask and glance over my shoulder.
His look of pure concentration is hot as hell, and the wet sounds he makes make me forget where we are, and that he’d be better to be finally together again in a fucking bed.
But Igor and I have never been good at fucking in a bed.
Ten years of sneaking around will do that to two men in love.
He gives me a bashful little smile, and I chuckle.
My laughter dies in my throat as Igor nudges his cock at my hole and slowly pushes in.
“Shhh, be still, malysh. I didn’t prep you so let me take my time.”
“I thought you said you’d fuck me hard and fast.”
“Doesn’t mean I’ll ever hurt you.”
I’m pushing his buttons and I know it. Which gets me exactly what I want.
Igor slides deeper into me, stealing my breath and pressing my chest harder into the wall.
The fingers that were just inside me bruise my hip while he slides the index and middle finger of his other hand into my mouth roughly.
I moan around them. The taste of his skin on my tongue sparks flames of desire straight into my cock. It twitches and it doesn’t escape the watchful eye of the man behind me. He’s always been so attuned to me, to my needs, to my body. I could never hide a thing from him. I never even tried.
“Jerk your pretty boy cock, malysh, and come all over the dirty wall while you suck on my fingers.”
The space between my dick and the wall isn’t large, my knuckles scraping against the rough concrete of the wall on each stroke. I don’t stop. I don’t care if I bleed. I’ve been bleeding ever since Igor was taken. Ever since he left me without a goodbye.
Pain and pleasure mix, anchoring me to this moment with him, to his sharp thrusts and the way his cock moves inside me.
He grunts in my ears. His warm breath skims my neck. I close my eyes and drop my forehead to the wall, overtaken by sensations.
“Are you close, pup?”
His fingers leave my mouth, trailing the side of my neck on their way down.
“Yes,” I whine. “So fucking close. Make me come, baby. Please.”
He joins me to hold myself and pumps, taking our rhythm over, making my own hips stutter in search for more. And he gives it to me. Never letting up, never releasing the pressure around me, his fist fitting like a glove around my hand.
“Oh fuck.”
We come together in a rush, waves of shocking pleasure travelling up my spine and bursting behind my eyelids.
He fills me completely. With his cum. With his heart beating against my back as he leans against me to recover.
He’s here.
The euphoria of my orgasm leads way to another type of ecstasy. The knowledge that I’ve found him. And nothing will separate us ever again.
With one last kiss on my shoulder, Igor withdraws. I immediately miss his warmth and shiver. When I turn, sweat glistens at his temples. I want to lick it off of him.
Later.
“We should leave now. The jet is ready.” I glance at my watch. “We’re actually meant to take off in ninety minutes.”
“I can’t come with you.”
I freeze.
The words ring all wrong. I must have misheard.
“What?”
Igor has stepped back, further from me. His jaw is set and eyes cast down before he seems to force himself to meet mine.
“I can’t come with you, Julian.”
I flinch.
That’s when I see it. How did I miss this?
His ring finger on his right hand should hold a delicate rose gold band. Simple and elegant. Nothing flashy. That’s not who he is. But it’s bare.
“Where’s your ring?”
“Julian…”
“Where. Is. Your. Fucking. Ring?”
Something drags his attention away, and to the front of the club, on the side of the street.
“You need to leave,” he says.
“You’re coming with me.”
The shadows shift on his face as his expression shutters to something I’ve rarely seen before. A murderous look I’ve never been on the receiving hand of greets me in place of the smile from the charming man I know and love.
He marches up to me, closing the distance in just two steps. His hand lands on my throat and he pushes me against the wall, this time slamming my head against it. I hiss in pain. And in shock.
“Leave. Before you fucking get killed and the men you have with you as well.”
The door to the club smashes to the concrete wall.
As if summoned, my three bodyguards filter through it, taking positions with their guns raised.
They’ve met Igor and relax at seeing him.
I can almost see the hope brimming in their eyes as well.
He used to be a soldier just like them. They trained together, ate together. And killed together.
“You’re in danger here, Julian,” Igor says low enough that only I can hear. “You need to leave. And stop trying to find me. It’ll get you killed.”
“You don’t get to fuck me, and leave again!”
“I’m protecting you,” he yells back.
A muscle in his jaw works but his eyes keep fleeting to the mouth of the alley. Something’s wrong. But I can’t help him if I don’t know what it is.
“Please. Please, baby. Let me help. Come home with me.”
“You can’t help me, Julian.”
Igor steps back and his hand falls on his side. He flexes it.
So that’s what this is all about? Touching me one last time before dumping me and disappearing off the face of the earth. Over my fucking dead body.
“Go, before you all get killed.”
I shake my head. “No. I’m not leaving without you.”
Igor’s gaze shifts again. His expression turns thunderous, regret written all over it. Slowly, his hand moves to his back. A gun appears. And to my horror, he raises it. To me.
The men with me move faster than I do, lifting their own weapons against one of their own.
I jump in front of them, hands raised.
“Don’t shoot him,” I yell.
Desperation clings to my skin. I drop to my knees.
“Please. Please. Please.”
The third time is louder and makes Igor flinch. But it doesn’t stop his retreat. Each step he makes away from me tears me apart a little more. Behind me, the soldiers stand at the ready. And in front, the man I thought was my future breaks me.
He always had the power to do so. I never thought he’d use it.
“I’ll follow,” I say, my voice trembling and irate. “I don’t care what I have to do. I’ll always find you.”
The gun trembles in his hand.
It happens fast.
One of the men behind me shoots, missing Igor by a hair.
I whirl, swiping my own gun from the holster at my ankle and shooting my fellow man. He drops to his knees, screaming my name and begging me to stop.
The other two are frozen, torn between helping their comrades and obeying my order. I outrank them.
Igor runs to me, tackling me to the ground. He disarms me with ease. I let him. He takes my gun, locks it and secures it behind him. All while keeping the other two soldiers at bay with his own.
“What the fuck did you do?”
“He shot you. If he isn’t dead already, he will be when you let me fucking go.”
I’m screaming in his ear, losing the fucking plot. Shooting my allies, people under my command. That’s nothing short of betrayal.
“This wasn’t supposed to happen. You were not supposed to become like this.”
He turns, indifferent to the two soldiers holding him at gunpoint.
They shift on their feet, waiting for their next order while glancing every so often at their comrade groaning on the ground.
Igor pulls at his hair, the brown strands have grown since I last saw him, like he can’t be bothered to take care of it.
I guess he has other issues. I don’t know why that detail is what registers and not the mayhem I just created.
Igor turns again towards the mouth of the alley.
He shakes his head.
“Don’t! Please.”
I’m begging again. No matter what, my words aren’t getting through. He’s leaving me.
“Get the fuck out of here. The cops will be here soon. Forget me, Julian. This only ends in your death.”
Then he’s gone.
And my heart goes with him.
My eyes close, the white behind the eyelids taking the shape of his disappearing silhouette. Tears fall on my cheeks as my knees hit the ground again.
The muted sounds of the club behind me blend with sirens. Even the temperature doesn’t register. Only my heart shattering to pieces does.
I don’t open my eyes when strong arms lift me up by the underarms, when curses are thrown at how fucked this all is. Not when I feel the engine of a moving car underneath me or when my cheek hits leather.
I keep them close where Igor’s silhouette resides.
Later that week, when I’m brought in front of Lana to explain why I shot our own men, I’m told he died during transport, and that I’ve been branded unfit to go on future missions.
She asks me to go see the family of the fallen soldier. Ask for forgiveness. Get help.
I don’t do any of it.
I don’t care for redemption. I only want him.