Chapter 29
CHAPTER
TWENTY-NINE
ANDREI
I head back to the estate hours later. Just as the sun is rising.
My head throbs and my limbs ache from a restless night of sitting in the offices after my brothers left, drinking myself into a stupor.
A few hours of sleep is all I could allow myself before it was time to come back here and face Georgia.
Like me, she’s known this day was coming, but that doesn’t make it any easier.
We haven’t spoken about it for the last while, just enjoyed being wrapped in each other before the real world crashed down around us.
I track down Georgia in the painting studio. Her back is to me, sheets of dark hair pouring down her back. She tilts her head and focuses on the canvas in front of her, buttery sunlight pouring through the window in front of her.
Transfixed, I stand in the doorway watching Georgia dab and swirl a brush across the canvas, hypnotized by each elegant brushstroke and the way the colors on the canvas blend beautifully.
She’s painting a swirling constellation of color; it’s the tattoo she offered to design for me. It represents Kira.
She doesn’t turn around to greet me, but she knows I’m here.
“What do you think?” Her voice is light and playful.
“It’s perfect.” I approach, running a finger down a silky lock of her hair.
She puts down her brush and turns to face me, vulnerability flashing in her eyes. If I let myself, I'll go places with her I've never gone with anybody before. I’ve lost my head, but I could easily lose my heart. And this is why I have to let her go now. In the only way I can.
I roughly grab her chin and angle her face up to mine. “You’re mine, Georgia. Always remember that. Promise me, baby. You won’t forget that you belong to me.”
Her face drops, and her eyes search my own. “What is this about?”
I nuzzle my face into her neck and breathe in her earthy scent before it’s ripped from me much too soon. “Oleg.” I don’t have to say anything more than that. She understands.
“I see.” The warm glow through the window highlights the steel gray of her eyes as she blinks.
A tremor in the hand holding her paintbrush is the only indication that she is just as affected by this news.
When she speaks again, her voice is flat, devoid of emotion. “We always knew this day was coming.”
I reach for her, but she recoils. Pain radiates through my chest, wrapping around my lungs and squeezing. The urge to close the distance between us, to feel her against me, is nearly overwhelming, but she's shutting me out.
She turns back to her painting, picking up where she left off, as if I didn’t just drop a nuclear bomb in her lap. “Don’t freeze me out.”
Her back stiffens at the bite in my tone, but I don’t care.
I’m mad as hell. Not at Georgia, but at everything else, because right now, everything except this moment is out of my control.
My hand finds its way to her pulse, my thumb pressing down gently on that delicate point.
She holds her breath as I stand over her.
My eyes must convey the carnal direction of my thoughts because a shiver runs through her.
“Do I need to teach you a lesson?” I stand over her, one rough fist tangling in her hair, angling her neck back so her throat is exposed to me. I breathe her in, repeating the word I may never get out of my head: “Mine. Moya dusha.”
My soul.
Her eyes fly open, locked on mine as if she understands what I just said. But she doesn’t—what she understands is the intensity behind the words. The feeling. What I need from her.
“Get up.” My tone leaves no room for compromise. When she does as I ask, I stand back. My eyes travel down her body, and her nipples bead under her flimsy top. Her pulse flutters at the base of her throat and the need to dominate her overwhelms me.
“Take off your clothes and go stand facing the wall.”
“Andr—” I stop her with a slap on her beautiful ass.
“Don’t fucking argue,” I growl, pointing towards an empty wall on the far side of the room. “Hands above you, and don’t move a muscle. I will not be gentle, krasotka.”
She strips bare for me, exposed to me, ripe for the taking. My leather clad foot pushes her legs apart, as I crowd her from behind. I’m close to her, but not touching her yet. Building anticipation in the most cruel way—a cat toying with a mouse.
Her limbs shake. An electric charge fills the air with the promise of all the delicious ways I’ll use her. Defile her in the best possible way.
“You’re so vulnerable.” My words are a whisper against her throat.
“Look at you. Spread open for me, just begging for my touch.” I love her this way.
Naked and shaking while I remain fully clothed.
One of my fingers swipes over her slit, a gentle tease, while my other hand wraps around the front of her neck.
“So fucking wet,” I groan in her ear.
My resistance perishes with a whimper. I pull her back forcefully against me. Her exposed nipples tighten in the cool air and I reach a hand around her front, palming her breast, my eager fingers flicking over her nipple again and again.
I touch her like a man on the verge. Like this is our last hour on earth and she’s my only salvation. And maybe there is truth to that because what happens once we leave this room is out of our control, as much as we’d like to believe differently.
“Nobody else gets this.” My hushed words hold a dark promise. “Every fucking inch of you belongs to me. Say it.”
Georgia rocks her lower body back over my erection, desperate for friction, desperate to feel me inside. I want it all. But I will not give it to her… yet.
Taking a step back so I’m out of her reach, I grab her ass, molding it with my palm. “No, you don’t, filthy girl. You get nothing from me until you say the words I need to hear. You. Are. All. Mine.”
She resists my command for one long moment, refusing to give in, fighting what she knows is true, but doesn't want to give voice to. Delivering a stinging slap to her ass cheek, I let her know that she’s running out of time. Moisture dribbles down her leg, her body revealing what her mouth won’t.
I can wait all day. I want her to admit it to herself as much as to me.
Closing her eyes, she seems to have some sort of inner debate before she finally surrenders. “I’m yours,” she gasps, and the truth of her words sinks deep into my bones. I want her ruined for anyone that comes after me. Forever branded by my touch.
There’s nothing gentle about the way my fingers shove inside her—two thick fingers thrust deep inside her. It’s filthy and so hot. She inhales sharply as I remove my fingers, drenched in her juices and lightly dance over her clit—her entire body clenches in response.
“More,” she pants.
One hand folds over her breast as I slam three fingers inside of her.
My raw touch nearly knocks her off her feet, and I have to hold her up.
I’m filling her up to bursting, stretching her cunt in the most delicious way.
My fingers move deep inside of her, jacking them against a secret spot.
I keep up my merciless pace as she tumbles over the edge; her head falling back on my shoulder, eyelids fluttering closed.
She shakes as pleasure spirals up through her body.
She’s a quivering mass of sensation in my arms and I’m so damn turned on.
My heart is pounding insanely fast, and I’m not prepared for the shock of arousal that hits me when she takes my fingers covered in her juices and licks them clean.
“Krasotka,” I growl. She barely has time to recover before I undo my belt and lower my zipper. With one arm wrapped around her waist, I bend her forward, my hard cock pressed between us.
In one swift motion, I thrust until I’m seated to the hilt. I hope my fingers stretched her enough that she can adjust to my size because I can’t find it in me to be gentle right now. I fuck her hard and fast, my hips repeatedly crashing into her ass.
“You feel so good,” she hisses through gritted teeth, one hand against the wall to keep us steady.
My lips lower to the back of her neck, sucking and biting a path to her ear, taking my pleasure as I rail her into oblivion.
Her legs are shaking so hard I have to hold her up.
I want nothing more than to have her come with me, so I reach around her body, pressing my thumb hard into her clit.
She releases a string of curse words that let me know she’s as close to the edge as I am.
“Come all over my cock. Drench me.” The brutal sounds of our bodies slapping together is my undoing.
My vision becomes a blur of white dots as my body tightens with tension, her cunt pulsing around me.
Georgia screams her release as my thrusts become faster, more desperate.
Her name is a prayer on my tongue as I jerk inside of her, jets of my cum filling her womb.
This is what I imagine heaven must feel like.
GEORGIA
Minutes pass, my head resting on his shoulder as I fight to catch my breath.
He’s still deep inside of me, one arm hugging me close to his chest. Part of me just wants to stay this way forever, but reality is already crashing in—the reality that this little bubble of lust we’re in is about to burst.
I pull away from him, eyes glued to the floor, as I retrieve my clothes and get dressed.
Andrei clears his throat and does up his pants.
Both of us are still not speaking. A wave of unease ripples through the room.
Lingering awareness of what we just shared—and the cold hard reality that we can never be more than this moment.
As my gaze coasts to Andrei’s, the dark storm that looks back at me suggests he can read my thoughts and he knows how disoriented I feel. He reaches for me, but I pull away in the name of self-preservation. I can’t give more of my heart to him and survive.
Sex already bonded us. Hot and palpable, it was too strong of a force between us. I could never deny him my body, but now I have to deny him my heart. Walk out of his life and never turn back. Finding Kira has to take place with military precision. My final gift to him.
He stalks up to me, his movements deceptively smooth. “You wanna shut me out, fine. Play that game, see where it gets you.” His lips thin and he rises to his full height.
“It’s better this way. For you and for me. You said so yourself right from the start.”
His jaw held so tight I’m worried he'll break his teeth. “Suit yourself. Be ready early tomorrow morning. We have something to take care of.”
He gives me one final heavy look before turning on his feet and leaving me here, alone. An errand? I haven’t left his compound in weeks and now I’m running errands with him.
Hurt weighs me down, pressing on my chest like a thousand pound boulder, making it impossible to breathe. I don’t know what burns more—the fact that I’m willing to put my life on the line for him, or the fact that he’s letting me.