CHAPTER TWELVE #4
The forest is a place of rebirth just as much as it is a place of death. You go on a walk, disappear, nature claims you, the animals prey on you, the scavengers steal your bones, the earth absorbs you, and new life grows.
But I don’t want to speak, I just want to feel Sergei’s body against mine, where it belongs.
After what just happened, I don’t want to flee.
I want him to wrap me in his vast embrace and hide me from everything else.
Since when did Sergei become the one who keeps my secrets?
And when did this mountain start to feel like my home more than refuge from a storm?
Because the longer I stay here, the more I’m hopelessly bound to him and this place.
I reach down and tug at the button on his waist until it pops open. He pulls back, a pointed look competing with the rabid desire simmering behind his eyes. I know what he’s thinking. I know what every movement of every muscle means and what his eyes say before his voice can.
“I don’t need you to be logical or reasonable right now,” I argue, running my hands around his waist and pulling his shirt up over the tight muscles on his back.
“This is what I want you to do for me right now because I don’t want to think about anything else but you and me.
I want time to stop. Because I love being here with you. ”
Sergei reaches up and tugs his shirt the rest of the way over his head, letting his hair cascade back over his broad shoulders.
And when I run my hands over his shoulder blades, it’s as if I can feel the ink on his skin, like a prophetic story written into the fibers of his being that was always meant to pass.
Mankind’s relationship with something bigger than himself is universal, as is the struggle between good and evil.
Like fate.
Mikhailov slaying the devil on the mountain.
But where does that leave me?
Sergei’s face softens ever so slightly. “You know I’m not going anywhere. If you came back to me, I’d give you as many Christmases as you want.”
I pull him close and kiss him softly, memorizing his supple lips that fade into the thin, coarse scruff along his jaw. “I will come back to you, somehow,” I murmur, “because you’re mine now, too.”
“Unless I make sure you stay put, like last time.” Sergei drags his eyes up and down my body beneath him. “Something I should have done tonight.”
My eyes flick to the side table, where a pair of black padded cuffs are sitting next to the lamp. The same ones that bound me to this bed just this morning.
“What if I want to use them on you?” I ask.
Sergei shifts his gaze to the cuffs, eyeing them for a few moments. And that’s when I see it; the spark of curiosity behind his frosty eyes that tells me he’s done for. He’s never said so, and I’ve never asked, but I’m certain that he’s never given anyone else the same look. It’s all mine.
Just like him.
Slowly, I raise up on my elbows and crawl across the bed, reaching for the cuffs.
I don’t care about flights or Christmas anymore.
OK, fine, I still care about Christmas, but right now I don’t care about schedules or sensibility.
I want to spend tonight being incredibly selfish and delusional and in denial of everything waiting for me tomorrow.
I motion for him to take my place. “Lay down.”
Sergei gently takes me by the waist as he moves past me, switching places and settling into the middle of the bed.
“Something tells me that I wouldn’t have as much luck trapping you while you’re asleep,” I tease.
“No,” he returns smugly.
I swing my leg over his waist and sink down onto his lap, rocking against the hard ridge growing beneath me. “Do you ever sleep? Or is it always with one eye open?”
Sergei runs his hands up and down my thighs and lets me wrap the cuff around one of his massive wrists.
“Sometimes,” he replies with a half-smile. “But I will sleep much better now that you’re safe.”
After fastening one end, I give it a firm tug and then raise his arm to loop the empty cuff through the railing.
I shoot him a devious glance. “You’ll go to sleep when I say you can go to sleep.” Then I reach for his other arm and secure his wrist in the cuff, giving that one a firm tug, too. “I haven’t forgotten about this morning when you tied me to this bed and held me hostage.”
“You were not a hostage,” he replies. “I would not have given you up for anything.”
I never could’ve guessed how much I would love the way that Sergei’s compliments sound like death threats.
And I only want more of them. Because, for some inexplicable reason, it makes them sound more genuine, more sincere—more real.
And the juxtaposition of his menacing voice with the image of his colossal figure bound beneath me is utterly intoxicating.
Dropping my hands, I slowly run them over Sergei’s chest, memorizing the contour of each muscle.
He flexes at my touch, inhaling deeply while my hands move lower.
I didn’t anticipate how much I would love him like this.
His giant frame, otherwise incapacitated beneath me, sends a tremor rippling through my core.
Grasping the hem of his thermal that I’m still wearing, I slide it up my body and over my head, taking my bralette with it. The immediate fire behind his gaze as my breasts fall with a bounce feels like static over my entire body. I start grinding against him, slow and torturous.
“Should I take my pants off, too? Or are you otherwise distracted?”
“Take them off now,” Sergei commands, looking and sounding like he’s doling out another threat.
Biting back a smile, I brace myself on his shoulders as I slowly slide my pants over my hips and down past my ass, carefully tucking up each leg and pulling them free, all the while brushing my bare breasts over his face.
His head rotates with my chest, chasing the taste of my flesh and the sensation of my tits in his mouth, but he falls just short each time.
“What did I do to you, Printsessa?” Sergei groans as I straighten up. “Why are you punishing me?”
“I would never.” I trail my fingertip along his jaw line. “You’ve only ever treated me like a princess…Zaichonok.” I tap his lips at the last word.
His eyes remain locked on mine, his face emotionless, but his chest falls as he lets all the air out of his lungs. I knew I’d catch him off-guard—my leviathan, my living work of art, my dark and stormy love, my Zaichonok, and my only reason for ever learning a single word of Russian.
Because that’s what he is—a bunny. A very big bunny.
“Not the cute and fluffy part,” I clarify, “the other thing they’re known for.”
“Fuck…” Sergei rumbles under his breath.
“Yeah, that part.” I dip down, leaving soft kisses over his lips. “Did I say it wrong?”
“Even if you did, I wouldn’t tell you. You could call me a shit-licking bastard and I would still answer when you call. Where did you learn that?”
My hands wander down to his waist and I start loosening his pants.
“The Internet. Not Google Translate, but a Russian language blog called Russian with Ari.” I give a little shrug. “I’m not fluent yet or anything.”
I can’t tell whether Sergei is impressed, shocked, offended, flattered, or about to tear through the cuffs and destroy my pussy with reckless abandon. But I like guessing what he’s thinking. And the thought that I could be wrong is an adrenaline rush of the best kind.
“What else did Ari teach you?” he asks with a tinge of bitterness.
“Not much,” I reply as I drag his zipper down. Then I slide my hand down the front, taking hold of his cock that feels like granite in my hand. “Are you jealous? Don’t worry, he’s just a face on a web page. Maybe you can teach me more.”
He hisses a breath through his teeth as I slowly stroke his length, trying to draw out whatever is hiding deep inside. Maybe Sergei is my favorite game now—one where everyone wins.
“I will,” he says as his abs flex. “Then you’ll know what I’m saying about you every time I stretch your perfect little pussy.”
I free his cock from his pants, nudging the sides down his hips before sliding his tip through the wet heat dripping between my thighs.
“I also made solyanka,” I say on my breath, throbbing as I grind against him.
I can barely get it out, realizing I might be torturing myself more than him. But Sergei’s disbelief betrays his frosty exterior, and the weight of his silence makes the tension even more satisfying.
“Ari didn’t teach me that,” I add. “I had to figure that one out myself. I put it in the fridge while you were still outside. Maybe you smelled it when you came in the house.”
“I did,” he nods, the intensity in his eyes unwavering. “But memories are strong and the hypocrisy of the human mind is staggering.”
“Don’t I know it.” I dip down, teasing his lips with my tongue. “I want to stay with you, Sergei, just you and me.” I let out an agonizing breath, my voice catching. “Even if it’s only for tonight.”
“I’ll still be yours even after tonight.” Each of his words is like an incendiary to my heart. “Show me what I’ll miss when you’re gone, since you like torturing me so much.”
Any ounce of willpower evaporates in an instant and I shift his cock down until I feel him at my entrance.
My breath hitches as I sink down, taking him in without hesitation.
He hits me deep, making my muscles flutter and pulse around him.
I squeeze his shoulders, letting out a high-pitched moan as the pain quickly turns to pleasure.
My fingertips press into his pecs, turning white as I rock back and forth, eyes rolling as desperation pours off my tongue. My long hair brushes back and forth over his shoulder as I move, the tension compounding while he gazes up at me with wild eyes.
“Fuck—” I moan, finding the perfect rhythm at the perfect angle.