42. Octavia
It’s only when the bright rays warm my cheek that I realize neither of us remembered to shut the drapes before going to sleep. I squint through the light. Vasiliy woke me twice in the night with desperate kisses, burying himself so deep within me that I still feel the ache of his presence now.
The pillow crinkles as I glance over, finding his beautiful face relaxed in sleep.
I can’t believe he is mine.
Is he mine?
With one finger, I trace the slant of his nose and the bow of his full lips.
When he doesn’t wake, I continue my exploration down to the abstract blue-black lines tattooed on his neck and chest. I’m already craving him again.
It’s strange. Sex used to be such a horrifying thought for me; something that took and never gave.
The memory fills me with bravery as I slide beneath the blankets with a nefarious grin.
I continue my perusal, following those inky lines all the way down his broad chest and the alluring V of his lower abs.
I grin, realizing he’s already hard for me below the blanket, despite all of our midnight activities.
All it takes is one experimental lick for his cock to jump in my grip.
Spurred on by the immediate response, I pull his length down to my lips and suck the flushed mushroom tip into my mouth.
A low-pitched groan I’ve never heard him make ricochets through the air. I need him to make that sound again.
“Fuck,” he groans, pulling the blanket off my concealed head. “You feel like heaven.”
I take him in deeper, sputtering when I realize I’ve blocked my airway before remembering to take a breath.
“Easy,” he whispers, brushing a hand over my cheek. “Breathe through your nose, baby.”
I follow instructions as he tilts my head back to a better angle.
This time, I’m able to take several more inches into my throat.
I suck hard, thrilled by the round of thick Russian curses that rip into the air.
His dick actually twitches between my lips, causing such an intense wave of pride to flow through my chest.
He releases a low moan, and I’m shocked by how obsessed I am with the sound. Then he thrusts deeper into my throat, bottoming out before pulling all the way out.
“You’re doing so good for me, zlaya,” he pants. “Do you want a break?”
I shake my head immediately, pulling him closer to take one of his balls into my mouth. I swear, this time his legs start to shake. I lick and kiss everything I can reach before popping his tip back into my mouth and pulling his hips into me.
“God, you’re gonna kill me,” he gasps, thrusting so deep he hits the back of my throat. I breathe through my nose as his thrusts speed up until they turn jumpy and uneven. “I need to pull back,” he says desperately. “I’m gonna come.”
I don’t let him pull away, though, instead gripping his legs and holding him so close that I can’t breathe. My throat closes around him as his salty release explodes inside me. I’ve barely managed to swallow it all when I’m being pulled back up his body for a desperate kiss.
“Good morning,” I whisper softly against his lips.
He huffs a laugh, then presses a kiss to the corner of my eye. “I must not have tired you out thoroughly enough last night, hm?” Another kiss against my throat.
“It’s not fair.” I pout beneath his barrage of kisses. “I have an addictive personality, and you introduced me to a new drug.”
The world twists as my back rolls onto the mattress, our positions reversed.
“Good thing I’m such an attentive dealer,” he says with a smile, running his tongue down the valley of my breasts.
I’m already wet and squirming by the time he reaches my clit, swirling around the nub before sucking it into his mouth. My back arches on the spot, stars flickering into my vision. My thighs clamp shut on either side of his head, but his palms grip my inner thighs, pressing them back open.
“I need more access, baby,” he chides against my pussy with a hot puff of air. “Fuck, you’re so pretty.”
The filthy words undo me.
His tongue punctuates the words by plunging into my heat.
My eyes snap shut in bliss. His attention turns leisurely, thrusting his tongue into me over and over while his thumb circles my clit.
The tension coils tighter. I know I’m moaning, but I can’t seem to hear the sound as the feeling intensifies to an unbearable depth.
When I finally hit that peak, even his hands can’t stop my thighs from pressing back into his skull. The orgasm hits in waves of bliss, leaving me gasping to catch my breath.
When I tug him back up, nothing prepares me for the intensity sprawled across his face. He pulls me up into his arms, holding me like something precious he couldn’t bear to release.
“I have a present for you.”
“Oh?” I smile so wide my cheeks hurt. “For me?”
He reaches into the drawer of the bedside table. When he straightens, there’s something shiny in his hand. I like shiny.
His fingers unfurl, revealing a…hairpin? Except it’s far too long and sharp to be something so simple. The gold length is fashioned like a miniature blade, and there’s a chain fastened to one end with dangling charms.
“It’s beautiful,” I whisper, plucking it between my fingers and twisting it.
“You like it?”
I nod. “For my hair?”
“I know you’ve been practicing blades with Kirill. I figured you’d prefer to keep yours in a more functional place, and I know how you like your pretty, deadly things.”
My hand clasps the dagger pin while I stare into his tentative gaze. Such a thoughtful gift. My first gift, I realize with glee. I’ve never received a present before.
I throw my arms around his neck and bury my face in the crook. He only holds me tighter.
A string of doubt winds around my heart, as it always does when I’ve found short bursts of pure happiness in my life.
A beautiful woman coming into the foster house and promising to adopt me.
Buying my first pair of pointe shoes with my scholarship money.
Flirting with one of the company’s most talented men during rehearsal.
What goes up must come down.
The beautiful woman never returned with adoption papers.
My roommates stole and destroyed the pointe shoes before I could even wear them to my first class.
And that man helped destroy something in me that I never managed to completely heal.
It’s like Vasiliy’s scars. The skin thickened over the wound, too thick to be pierced again.
“Where did you go?” he whispers in my ear, folding his body around mine in a warm cocoon.
“I have a bad feeling about the whole Popov situation,” I say, snuggling into his hold. “My cousins won’t tell me what’s going on, but I think it’s getting bad.”
Ever since I overheard them talking business at breakfast, they’ve been more careful to conceal the growing tension from me, but I can feel it rising in the compound. Even my father seems wound tighter than usual.
“Seemed to me like Popov already gained access to Sasha’s lower circle,” Vas responds. “If he managed to get one of your dad’s men to turn on him, I have no doubt he managed to get another.”
Vasiliy doesn’t sanitize information for my ears, and he’s never once made me feel less than. Never.
“How did he manage to turn the guy you interrogated on fight night?” I ask.
“Daughter,” he responds instantly. “And wife.”
Oh.
“Did either make it out alive?”
“The little girl is healthy and safe. Your father sent her to one of his allies in London.”
A child, alone in the world, all because of this endless vendetta.
“You let him die.” I’m not stupid. I know what happened to the poor man who betrayed us. What was expected from the Bratva…
“Was it difficult?”
“Yes,” he answers softly. “It was difficult. But not as difficult as remembering how terrified I was in the safehouse when I didn’t know if I’d manage to get you out alive.”
His honest words trickle through the air like snowflakes. I don’t look away from the intensity in his eyes. Not until a phone starts ringing from the bedside table.
The phone is Vasiliy’s; the burner he uses to contact his little sister and her caregivers. I reach over.
“It’s Anya,” I say, offering the device with the name written across the screen.
His face twists in confusion. Then he takes the phone from my hand and climbs out of bed. “I’ll be right back—”
I wave him off, collapsing onto the mattress. The morning birds chirp as I settle against the pillows, content to fall back asleep until he returns. But when I flip onto my side, something falls out from the far side of the mattress.
I climb over to Vas’s side of the bed and scoop up the two items that toppled to the ground. One looks to be a passport, but I don’t recognize the name. The picture, however…
When the second item, a folded piece of paper, unfurls in my grip, my blood runs cold.