14. Chapter Fourteen
My queen had a dominant side to her. One that called to me as she teased me, made me squirm, claimed me as hers in an entirely new way. I’d never given myself over to a woman like this before, never allowed myself to submit to such a powerful being.
Evie was a true queen but I’d known that already.
But now the submission was over. Now, I was going to remind her that she didn’t have to pretend to be strong with me. I was to be her safe place. Her home, even if temporarily. That dreaded fucking word. A word I began to loathe almost as much as the name Ryan.
“What are you doing?” My Irish witch asked, emerald eyes wide as I pulled her into my lap, then flipped us so she was beneath me, her back to my chest and her stomach against the cushions.
“Fucking my wife until she begs me to stop.”
“I thought I was the boss here?” she teased.
“You said you wanted my monster of a cock inside of you. You’re about to get it.” I pressed the tip of said dick against her entrance. “Mistress,” I added for good measure, before pushing into her tight heat.
Before I could pull out only to tease her again, her cunt clenched around me, pulling me inside of her. Deeper, tighter, never wanting to let me go. And who the fuck was I not to oblige the woman who had the power to rip my heart from my chest and pierce it with her pointy gothic nails?
Those same nails dug into the sides of the couch as I allowed her to acclimate to my size.
“I think I said thick,” she said between a bated breath.
“Thick, monster. Whatever. He’ll be splitting you wide open either way.”
When she pressed her ass into me, I knew she was ready to be properly fucked. My fingers dug into both sides of her hips as I set a fierce rhythm, hitting her as deep as I possibly could with each thrust. Her body responded to me in such a way that only made me want her more. She milked me while I fucked her into oblivion, soaking up each sensual sound that left her needy body.
“Fuck, baby. You drive me wild,” I told her as I bent over, pressing my chest to her back.
My teeth sunk into the back of her shoulder. I was close to spending my release again already. As if I hadn’t just given her all of me when she sucked me dry. I was starving for her.
“Jer,” she said, and I knew by the way her body stiffened that she was about to explode right along with me. “Don’t fucking stop.”
With one hand still on her hip, the other now buried in fiery red spirals, I pulled her head back so she was unable to move with the brute force that I supported her with. “Will you come for your tyrant, my queen?”
“Yes,” she moaned as I thrust into her again, both of us hitting our climax together.
Before I knew it, we were a heaping mess as I collapsed on top of her. Surely my weight was crushing her, but my sweet wife didn’t complain. Not as we both tried to catch our breaths before we could be caught.
Once a safe place where no one would find us, the atrium had become Rose’s new favorite spot to be, and I’d be damned if Alastair, the stupid little puppy dog he was for constantly following her around, would catch sight of my bare ass.
So, I scooped up Evie and wrapped a blanket around us. I’d need to get a small bin with a change of clothes for us to keep in this room at the rate we were going.
I was certain that this was going to happen again, and again.
My resolve to set her free was smashed into a thousand pieces, and my selfish nature, the monster of a Vasiliev that I was, came rushing to the forefront once again. She was mine. Ryan could have her back when he took her from my cold, dead hands.
“Are you distracted, Jericho?” Yuliya’s voice pierced through my brain, causing a migraine.
Her eyes flicked up to the ceiling, but I knew that her gaze went far beyond that. Up the wall, all the way to the woman who was in the bedroom over our heads, singing that sweet, haunting melody as she made candles.
Fucking candles. I shivered with anticipation, missing the heat of her, and her fucking wax, on my skin.
What world did I live in that simply watching her hands manipulating the wax made me hard?
“I am,” I admitted. “But I will not be for long.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” Yuliya tilted her head, her arctic blue eyes curious and sparkling.
“It means that when she is safe, when the threat is gone, I will be letting her go.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
I chuckled.
How easily had Eve penetrated our lives, and become a part of our dysfunctional, deadly little family. She was a nurturer in the midst of killers. In so many ways, she was perfect for me. Except for the fact that she was in love with someone else.
I couldn’t tell my sister that. I definitely couldn’t tell Rose. They’d blow a gasket, and take it out on poor Evie. Especially Rose. She had grown close to my temporary bride, narrating her life to her belly. “Here’s your Lolo,” she would say as if she was speaking to the belly button that poked out like a button. “And there’s your Lola Evie! And Aunty Yuliya…”
My daughter had a whole thing about her kids coming out and knowing their family immediately. She said that we all had to speak around her belly so that they’d be soothed by our voices when they came out. That they’d be used to family around at all costs. It was all true, of course. When the babies came, she’d have to pry them out of my arms with a crowbar. Rose would be the most well-rested mother in the world, because those children would be staying with me all the damn time. Between me and Yuliya, those kids would be spoiled rotten. Surely, they wouldn’t miss a grandmother they never knew… right?
I’d miss her enough for all of us.
“I mean to set her free, Yuliya. She doesn’t belong here. Her heart belongs elsewhere, and she should have the life she chooses.”
“She chose you,” Yuliya said, looking down at her palm, before she clenched it in a fist. “That is what that stupid Irish hand-cutting thing was, wasn’t it?”
“Handfasting,” I corrected her. “And how do you know about that?”
Eve and I had handfasted in private.
“I can see the scar,” she said, cutting her glare towards my palm.
Jesus, when had I started caring about stupid Irish traditions? Why was I trying to defend their insanity?
“Whatever.” Yuliya rolled her eyes, reaching for her glass again, and downing it in a single gulp. “She didn’t need to cut your hands and do that. It’s supposed to be an eternal vow, no? Enforceable by all of those insane, potato-sucking Irish?”
“Callum and Eoghan will allow her to put those vows aside. I’m certain of it.”
“Why would you want her to?”
“Why do you let a bird out of its cage?”
“To watch it fly?” she said the answer as a question.
“Exactly.” I remembered that fucking book. The damn inscription that she cradled in her hands. Ryan. “She’s been incarcerated for sixteen years with the Greens. Now, with me. I am no jailer.”
My sister stared at me in utter confusion, as if I had gone completely mad. Maybe I had. But if I couldn’t confide in her, then I wouldn’t be able to confide in anyone.
“You don’t want to let her go.” She stated it slowly, as if she was trying it out to see if it was true. “So… why would you?”
Oh, my dear sweet sister. I loved her for many reasons, and one of them was because she went after what she wanted, without hesitation and regard for anything. She was single-minded to an admirable fault. I pity the man she sets her cap for. He will be done for.
Unless that man was Corbin McClellan. Then, the jury was out on if I would kill him myself for making her feel the need to change her hair.
“Because I love her, which means that I care for her happiness more than my own.” I stared down at my empty glass, and was sad at its hollow insides. So I grabbed the vodka and refilled it, before refilling Yuliya’s. “That is the definition of love, I think.”
She scoffed, taking a sip of the clear liquid, and had no expression as the burn came to her lips. “I think you’re full of shit.”