Chapter 42
Irelynn
December twenty-fifth in Russia isn’t what it is in America, or so I’m told. Here, Christmas day is celebrated in January. But for me, even in Russia, December twenty-fifth comes with a Christmas surprise like no other.
Throughout the night, Ilya fed the fire, so even now when I wake, the flames are dancing in the hearth. We slept on the pile of blankets on the floor next to the flames all night long, naked, in each other’s arms.
Never in my wildest dreams could I have imagined a night so perfect. I wake with a bright smile on my face and an impossibly full heart. Ilya has an arm thrown around my waist, his big body spooning mine. His breaths are deep and even, and I figure he’s still asleep as I start to stretch slowly in his hold, still grinning wide.
That smile falls, though, ripped away by shock as a flash catches my eye mid-stretch. Frozen in shock and awe, I stare wide-eyed and mouth agape, at the massive diamond that glitters on my ring finger.
How’d that get there?
Does it mean…
“Marry me, Irelynn Orla Taylor. Be my wife, my heart.” I slowly shift to lay flat on the bed of blankets as Ilya perches above me, looking so beautifully handsome even cast in flame. “For the rest of your life, let me be the man who loves you. Let me make you happy. Be the woman who makes my still heart thunder. Who makes it race. Say yes, my lovely Little Blue, and make me the happiest man alive.”
He looks so sincere as he waits for my reply. I know in truth; I don’t have much choice. He’s told me that I’ll be his wife whether I like it or not. He stole my body, my heart, and my soul for his own. But I want to give him this. I want to give him my willing hand, a vow for forever, and to stand by him until the end.
I’m aware of who he is, scars, demons, and all. But beyond, or maybe because of all that, his heart is so beautifully unguarded for me. And I’m in love with him for it.
“Yes.” Surprise alights in his blue eyes. He honestly thought I’d refuse him. Silly man. “I want to be your wife, Ilya, until the very last breath I breathe.”
“You will be my wife beyond that breath, my heart. Until the end of eternity.”
Breathless. I am breathless.
I repeat, “Until the end of eternity.”
“Merry Christmas, my heart.” He dips his head to kiss me gently, and with so much affection, I feel it explode in the corners of my heart.
“I love you,” I say between kisses. He hovers over me, careful not to crush me with his weight even as my fingers grip his shoulders, trying desperately to pull him down to me. Into me.
“Little Blue,” his deep voice is a protest. “You must be sore.”
I shake my head. “Not sore enough.”
A low growl is his only response as he slips a knee between my legs, transferring the rest of his bulk a moment later. He’s already hard for me, ready to slide inside and root himself deep.
My heart pounds in anticipation, my body burning, blood simmering. Wet heat spills between my legs simply at the thought of having him inside me again. Only growing more intense as the tip of his erection parts my seam to slide into that wet heat.
My back arcs off the bed of blankets, and he sucks a breast into his hot mouth. The moan he pulls from the depths of me is husky and pleading, my nails biting into the flesh at his shoulders. He notches his tip, his hungry mouth claiming mine in a deep kiss, before he starts to sink in. The stretch is a burn that has breath locking in my lungs moments before it breaks free in sharp gasps.
Ilya just kisses me deeper, hungry to devour every sound I offer him, as he stretches me wider, sinking deeper.
I’m not sure that I’ll ever have enough of this. Of him.
With a final thrust, he roots himself to the hilt. Against my chest, I can feel his heart pound.
Even though it drives me to the brink of madness, he makes love to me slowly, gently. His thrusts are agonizingly tender as they push me slowly to my peak. My muscles quiver and my heart riots as he whispers lovingly tender promises, vows for the future, into every kiss.
When I shatter around him, and he fills me with his seed once again, I drop back against the blankets, sated, and sleepy even though I only just woke. My eye catches the diamond where my hand sits against his shoulder, and I smile.
Instead of pulling from my body as I expect, Ilya grips my body against his before he rolls onto his back to take my weight.
“Wha—” I start to ask, but he pins me in place with an iron arm around the small of my back. “I’m not ready to leave your body.” With my legs spread wide around his hips, his mostly hard cock still buried deep, Ilya gives me another long thrust. I’m so over-sensitive, I groan. My brows furrow, his eyes taking in everything. “You’re so beautiful when you take my cock, Little Blue. I can’t wait to fuck you from behind, watching how it stretches your pretty pink cunt.”
No one has ever. Ever. Spoken words to me like that.
The effect they have on me is shocking. Around him, my core clenches in another hot wave of arousal. He growls, his icy blue eyes heating.
“Ilya,” I gasp.
He laughs, the thick cords of his neck lovely as he throws his head back. God, he’s so beautiful.
I think my heart actually skips a beat.
His eyes find mine again, and he hugs me just a little tighter. “You’re a fiend.”
“You only have yourself to thank,” I huff, but I can’t hide my smile from him. I’m happy in a way I haven’t been happy in years. A chirpy rumble sounds as Lucy leaps from the bed to join us on the floor. My eyes grow serious as I watch the only thing of importance, I have from my past life come closer. A pressure closes around my heart. “Thank you.”
A wry grin stretches his mouth. “Are you thanking me for kidnapping you?”
“Yes.” I surprise him again. His smile falls, his eyes growing intense. “I guess I am.”
He lifts his head to press a kiss to my bare shoulder. “Did I not tell you you’d fall in love with me?”
I snort, giving his shoulder a shove as Lucy gives it a bump with his nose before settling into a sprawl by his head. The sight makes me laugh, because Ilya is not the kind of man one would think would be okay with a cat curling up next to his head. But he doesn’t look displeased at all as he watches me.
He looks—content. Happy. Hopeful.
How did this happen? How did I fall for my kidnapper?
The answer comes on the wings of a thought that flutters into my mind inconspicuously, only to barb on contact. Because he’s my savior, too.
Dipping my head, I lower my lips to his, kissing him in a way that feels exposing. Which is insane, considering all that we’ve done together these last twenty-four hours.
With one hand in my hair, the other around my back, Ilya devours my mouth until I feel him turn rock hard inside me once more. But when he begins to push my body from his, I cling tighter, my legs clamping around his waist.
“Little Blue,” his voice is rough with desire. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You won’t.”
“You were a virgin only yesterday,” he tells me gently. “I’ve had you more than I should already.”
“I’m not sore.” It’s not an entire truth, just as it isn’t a complete lie. I’m sore, but I’m not so sore that I don’t ache for him. Again.
I rock my hips, and he inhales through his nose as he does a curl, abs clenching as he arcs to kiss me again. But he doesn’t thrust, taking considerable care to hold himself still inside me, even.
I’m not having it. My hunger for him really is insatiable, I decide, as I pull back on his shaft, and sink down. A whimper leaves my lips as I fill myself with all of him, my hands coming to his chest as I push myself up over him. And then I ride.
A Russian curse whispers roughly from his lips as he grips my hips in his big hands, holding me as I ride him. At first, my motions are choppy and inexperienced, an experiment. Then, as my arousal begins to grow, I find my rhythm. Tipping my head back, my eyes drift closed. My hips rock, and sweat gathers across my skin, between my breasts. When he makes a low noise, my core clenches in response and my eyes open, my gaze drifting back to him. My breath catches, snagging hotly in my throat as I take in the sight of him watching the point where we join. Where his length is exposed, wet and hard and so thick with every time I pull back, only to disappear into my tight heat.
The sight sets a match to my blood, and I moan. His eyes snap to mine, and whatever he sees there has him doing a full sit-up, his hands splayed wide on my ribs as he takes a breast into his mouth. He sucks hard, nipping with teeth before flicking the tip with his hot tongue. His arms come around my back, squeezing me hard against him before—even from the bottom and to my delighted surprise—he takes over. His hips buck up into me, fucking me more frantically now as we both near that crest. I cling to him as he fucks me over the edge, my teeth finding the skin of his shoulder and biting.
He grunts, his upward thrusts uneven in the moments before he grunts a low, sexy sound. Then he spills inside me again.
We stay like that for a long minute in the aftermath of yet another orgasm. I feel truly shattered now. Wholly spent. Exhausted.
My body is limp where it hangs around his. My breaths fall in shattered pants, and the thundering drum of my heart is less intense, like the distant echoes—the aftermath of a violent storm.
“We need to get you cleaned up.”
“Nooo,” I protest, but even that is weak. “I’m so tired.”
Ilya laughs, deep and low and delicious enough to have my tired core spasming. He feels it, I think, because he lets out another curse. Then he shifts to lay me down, his lips pressing to my forehead a moment before he tells me, “Wait here.”
I don’t argue. I don’t have the energy.
Ilya disappears into the bathroom, returning a few moments later still gloriously naked and with a cloth in hand. He cleans me up before he lays down next to me and the fire, propped up on one arm as he looks down at me.
Awareness prickles my skin with goosebumps that make his lips stretch into a smile, and silently, he pulls a blanket up over my body. I snuggle into the soft warmth, happily roasting next to the fire with Lucy sleeping close, my fiancé closer.
“Do you want kids?”
I startle at his question, feeling my eyes pop wide. “W—what?”
“Children. Do you want them?”
“I—y-yes.”
His eyes sweep over the blanket that covers my body. “You want them soon?”
Holy crap. Is he serious?
Being honest, I shake my head. “No. Not soon.”
“If that’s the case, we’re going to need to get you on birth control.”
“Oh.” Understanding relief floods me. I tease, “You could just wear a condom, you know?”
His expression darkens, and he grips my chin between thumb and finger. “Nothing comes between us when I fuck you. When I come, I come inside you.”
Heat sweeps through my body, tinting my flesh pink. I whisper, “There he is.”
His eyes search mine, and he releases me. “You’re going to be the death of me.”
I quip, “I thought I was the reason for your beating heart.”
His eyes pin mine. “Don’t be smart.”
I laugh. I can’t help it, and I’m rewarded when his lips twitch. I wish he smiled more.
Then, growing serious he asks, “But you do want kids?”
“I do.”
“Good.” His eyes heat, and he wets his lips. My own part as I watch. “Because I’m going to fill your belly with my babies.”
Why is that so hot?
“How many do you want?”
His eyes smolder. “As many as you’ll give me.”
My eyes widen. Needing to temper his expectations, I hurry to say. “Three is the max, big boy.”
A brow cocks, and he chuckles. “We’ll see.”
“No, no. I know my limits. Three, Ilya. I’m serious.”
His eyes shine. He’s truly happy.
It touches my heart in a way that makes me think I’ll foolishly give him ten kids if he wants them.
Thankfully, I keep my mouth closed. He watches me until my belly rumbles loudly. Then he reaches for his phone and shoots off a text. When he’s finished, he sets his phone down and gets up. He moves to the closet and disappears inside only to reappear in black sweats.
“Polina will bring us breakfast.”
“Why don’t we go downstairs?” I start to sit when he shakes his head.
“We’re not leaving this room today. I’m not done with you.”