20. Erin #2
The arrogance of this man… It almost brings a smile to my lips. Almost, because it’s insane and somehow, I get the feeling if I said no, I’d never see Sasha again and no court could help.
The shoot-out, all of it, Demyan works on the edge of society, of the law, and he has power. A lot of it. Everything about him and this place tell me that.
It should turn me off, make me run. It doesn’t.
And I can’t say no because I couldn’t stand losing Sasha for good. The little taste I got is more than enough .
The thought of being with him… It doesn’t scare me off. Like that night when Sasha was conceived, there’s something about it, him that doesn’t scare me at all. Instead, it thrills me.
“What about you?” he asks like he didn’t just announce we’re getting married. “You were at the hotel for some conference?”
“I was working on my career in—” I stop. “That’s on hold.” Gone for the foreseeable future. Sasha comes first. The little boy comes in, clearly tired, and plonks down among his toys, dragging his goat into his arms as Olga peeks in to make sure we’re here. “You remember?”
“That was a very memorable night,” he murmurs, eyeing me, and heat floods me.
He’s right, it was. I’ve never—the things he did to me, we did together. I don’t think I’ve ever come so much or so hard in all my life.
“It was,” I whisper, looking at Sasha, then at him. “I temp now in property development. Lots of temp work there and it means I have time to spend with Sasha, time I’d never have with advertising. And it pays the bills.”
“I take care of my family; you’ll never have to worry about work or money again.”
“Demyan, I like working.”
I stand, checking my watch as the grizzles start. A block won’t fit, apparently, and Sasha throws it.
“Nap time?” Demyan asks. I nod and he’s up and scooping Sasha into his arms before I can reach him.
I ready myself for Sasha’s stiff board act and crying, but he doesn’t. He just snuggles in against Demyan, and the look of triumph on Demyan’s face cuts deep.
As I follow them up to Sasha’s room, there’s a part of me that wishes Sasha wouldn’t bond with him quite so willingly. It’s stupid, I know, because I’m glad they are. But… I also wa nt Demyan to suffer like I did. Even though he must be, knowing he missed out on two years of Sasha’s life.
Guilt floods me because I can see that pain, the crush of that punishment, and if his father was as bad as he said, then it must be worse than I’m imagining, because no doubt part of him thinks it’s his fault he didn’t have his son.
I stand at the door as Demyan puts him down, doing the things he’s seen me do. He sings softly to calm him. It’s a pretty tune, and he sings it in Russian. He has a nice voice.
Demyan strokes a hand over Sasha’s cheek as our son’s eyes close and his gentle, caring side is a beautiful thing.
And I can feel my panties dampen. Why did no one tell me how hot it is to see a big, strong man humbled by a child, to turn soft and sweet and show his underbelly.
Demyan rises and joins me. His gaze touches mine and it’s like he can see down into me.
As he pulls the door shut, I push him against the wall and grab a fistful of his shirt, rise up, and kiss him.
There’s a beat. Then he pulls me into his arms, his mouth on mine, kissing me so deep my heart is wild and my toes curl. It’s a kiss of heat and wonder. Of passion and need.
“My room,” he says, tugging me with him.
There’s no choice. I don’t need one. When it comes to this, I think I’d follow this man anywhere.
The master bedroom is huge and manly, and all I can see is the king-sized bed. The white linen is calming, simple and somehow sexy. I’ve seen white sheets against his skin. Definitely sexy.
But he doesn’t give me a chance to speak; he just tugs the dress up over my head and tosses it, pulling down my bra to kiss and suck my nipples, making me arch my back and grab at him.
I’m unsteady on my feet. It’s been so long since I’ve been touched, kissed, held. And I trust this man. Not with me, not with things he’s told me, but with Sasha. From the moment he laid eyes on him, it’s the one thing he’s done right.
And his love for him is evident.
He’ll keep Sasha safe.
Me? I just need this. Right or wrong, I need it. The thought of Demyan as the first man I’ll be with since I got pregnant is hot. It’s enough to make me almost climax on the spot.
Demyan pushes my hands away as I reach for him, and he kisses me again, stripping me of my bra, then easing me on the bed and pulling off my underwear.
He parts my thighs and licks me, his tongue sliding up along my slit and into my folds to my clit, driving me insane.
Pleasure bursts in me everywhere. I’m on fire; I’m in bloom, and as he brings me up, his tongue joined by his fingers pushing into me to thrust and rub on that spot inside, I come embarrassingly hard, embarrassingly fast. I spasm and clench on his fingers.
He pulls out and strips, and he thrusts into me mid-orgasm and I just come apart again.
It’s divine. I forgot how good sex is. How amazing being filled is, how it makes every nerve ending tingle, how the heat of his body burns my skin. He’s a furnace as he flips us and pulls me on my knees, and he comes down over me, thrusting deep one hand between my thighs to taunt my clit.
Then he sits up, grabbing my hips as he slams into me over and over, hard, and he comes, his body jerking, cock swelling bigger inside me as it spurts and I come again.
When we’re done, he eases out and seduces me all over again, kissing me in long, slow, languid kisses, trailing down, exploring me, and I explore him. We end up in a world of our own, slow, sensual fucking, until finally, I’m limp and I fall asleep in his arms.
When I wake, I’m alone in the bed. It’s cold, and I think he’s been gone a while. Outside, the shadows grow long through the window.
I’m not sure what to do. It’s like that hotel, when I woke alone. Am I meant to just go, to pretend this didn’t happen? I scoop up my clothes and dress, and then I scurry up the stairs to my room and I lie down, the baby monitor, my anchor to Sasha, clutched tight in my hands.