23. Veronica
23
VERONICA
One week later…
T he water wraps around my foot like a blanket, warmer than I expect but still sending a small shiver down my spine.
I hesitate at the edge of the shallow end, staring at the gentle ripples and forcing myself to take another step.
The fear still clings to me, a shadow I can’t quite shake, but I won’t let it win. Not today. I will get used to swimming again. I will beat this fear.
Across the pool, Maxim moves like the water is his natural habitat, each stroke deliberate and powerful. His movements are smooth and unhurried, his body cutting through the water with ease.
He pauses mid-lap and turns, his wet hair dripping as his dark eyes lock onto mine. There’s heat in that gaze, but also amusement.
“You coming in, or are you just here to watch?” His lips curve into that maddeningly smug smirk that he knows gets under my skin.
I roll my eyes, trying to mask the warmth rising to my cheeks. “I’m getting there,” I say, lifting my chin. “Not everyone was born a Russian shark, you know.”
“A shark?” He raises an eyebrow, pushing his wet hair back with one hand. The action is effortless, his muscles rippling in the light as if the movement is just for me. “I prefer lion, but I’ll take it.”
I can’t help the laugh that escapes me, light and genuine. “Big words for someone about to get soaked.”
His smirk widens, his gaze sharpening. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Oh, wouldn’t I?” The challenge in his voice spurs something reckless in me. Without thinking, I scoop up a handful of water and fling it at him, the splash landing perfectly across his chest.
For a moment, there’s only silence, the water dripping from his shoulders as he stares at me with mock incredulity. Then he surges toward me, water cascading around him in waves.
He’s too fast and I squeal, trying to backpedal, but there’s no escape. His hands find my waist, gripping me firmly as the water swirls between us.
“You’re misbehaving, Veronica,” he murmurs, his voice teasing, the hint of a growl making my stomach flip.
“Could say the same about you, wet boy,” I retort, trying to sound confident even as my heart pounds. I flick more water at him with a laugh, earning a deep chuckle that vibrates through his chest.
“You think that’s funny?” he asks, his tone mock-threatening as his hands tighten just enough to keep me from slipping away.
“Maybe,” I say, biting my lip to hold back a grin. “I think I’ve got you figured out by now, Maxim. All bark, no bite.”
He leans in slightly, his face mere inches from mine, and I can see the flicker of mischief in his eyes. “Oh, I bite,” he murmurs, his voice a rough whisper. “You just haven’t seen it yet.”
He releases me, stepping back with a smirk that says he knows exactly what he’s doing.
“You’re getting braver,” he says, nodding toward the deeper end of the pool. “But you’re still not swimming alone. Afraid?”
I let out a huff, squaring my shoulders. “Not afraid. Just cautious.”
“Caution is good,” he says, his voice softening slightly. “But sometimes, it’s just fear wearing a mask.”
I pause, his words striking a chord somewhere deep inside me. “You sound like a fortune cookie,” I say, deflecting the moment with humor.
“Maybe,” he replies, his lips twitching. “But you know I’m right.”
Rolling my eyes, I step further into the pool, the water rising to my shoulders now. “Fine, philosopher. What would you know about fear?”
He watches me carefully, his expression unreadable. “Everyone’s afraid of something,” he says after a beat. “It can’t hold you back if you learn to tame it.”
He tilts his head toward me. “Come on, let’s try something.”
“What now?” I ask, narrowing my eyes as he gestures for me to follow him to the edge of the pool.
“I’m going to teach you something,” he says simply, hoisting himself out of the water with effortless strength.
His body gleams in the dim light, droplets sliding over hard muscle, and I find myself momentarily distracted. He grabs a towel and turns to me, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips. “Enjoying the view?”
I snap my gaze back to his face, refusing to give him the satisfaction. “It’s alright,” I say with a shrug. “Seven out of ten.”
His laugh is deep and genuine, and he tosses the towel aside, motioning for me to follow him. “Out. Now.”
I haul myself out of the pool, water streaming from my body as I reach for my own towel. Before I can dry off, his hands are on my shoulders, gently guiding me to sit on one of the padded benches.
“Stay,” he orders softly, and there’s something in his tone that makes me obey without question.
I stiffen slightly as his hands move to my shoulders, but his touch is careful, measured. “What are you doing?” I ask, though my voice is quieter now.
“You’re tense,” he says simply, his thumbs pressing into the knots at the base of my neck. “Relax.”
I try to protest, but the words die in my throat as his hands work their magic, the tension melting away under his firm, skilled touch. His fingers move in slow circles, and I can’t help but lean into the sensation.
“This is unexpected,” I murmur.
“You could say thank you,” he teases, his voice warm. “But I’ll settle for that.”
I smile faintly, letting my eyes close as his hands move to my upper back, the pressure just right. “You’re good at this,” I admit reluctantly. “Do you give all your women massages, or am I just special?”
“Just you,” he says, his tone quieter. “And you’re not my woman. You’re my wife.”
I open my eyes at that, glancing back at him. His expression is softer than I’ve ever seen it, his hands still resting on my shoulders as his gaze meets mine.
“Maxim…” I start, unsure of what to say, but he shakes his head, a small smile playing on his lips.
“Don’t think so much,” he murmurs. “Just breathe and enjoy it.”
“Harder,” I murmur, my voice teasing as I arch my back slightly. I don’t need to look at him to know his eyes are on me, dark and hungry.
I can feel it in the way his hands pause, just for a moment, before digging into my flesh with renewed intensity.
His fingers trace the line of my shoulder blade, and I can’t help but smile.
His hands slide lower, down to the curve of my waist, and I let out a soft sigh. The cool air kisses my skin, but it’s nothing compared to the heat of his gaze as it roams over me.
I see the way his jaw clenches, the way his fingers twitch, and I know I’ve got him right where I want him.
“Get naked,” he says. “It’ll make it easier.”
I do as he says, laying on my front on the towels. He moves behind me, his hands sliding over my back, down to the swell of my ass. He kneads the flesh there, his touch firm but not punishing, and I bite my lip to stifle a moan.
God, he’s good at this.
His hands move lower still, skimming the backs of my thighs before sliding up to my inner thighs. I spread my legs just enough to give him access, and I hear his sharp intake of breath.
“What are you doing, Veronica?” he growls, his voice dangerous.
“Relaxing,” I purr, leaning back into his touch. “Isn’t that what massages are for?”
His fingers brush against my core, and I gasp, my hips arching involuntarily. He doesn’t stop, his fingers teasing me, stroking me until I’m writhing beneath his hands.
I reach behind me, grasping his wrist, but he’s too strong, too determined. His other hand grips my hip, holding me in place as he continues his relentless assault.
I twist around, my eyes locking with his as I reach for his swim shorts. He doesn’t stop me as I pull the fabric down over his hips, freeing his cock.
My fingers wrap around his shaft, and I feel him shudder beneath my touch.
“You’re not the only one who can play games, Maxim,” I say, my voice a sultry whisper as I stroke him slowly. His hips buck against my hand but I pull away, smirking up at him. “Beg for it.”
“I never beg.”
“I’m your wife. You will beg me.”
His eyes darken, and for a moment, I think he might refuse. But then he leans in, his lips brushing against mine as he whispers, “Please, Veronica. Touch me.”
I smile, reaching for my discarded swimsuit. I tie his hands behind his back, the fabric tight enough to hold him but not enough to hurt.
He doesn’t resist, his eyes never leaving mine as I push him down onto a lounger, straddling him.
My hands roam over his chest, down his stomach, before wrapping around his cock again. I stroke him slowly, teasingly, my lips brushing against his ear.
“Say it again,” I demand, my voice husky with desire.
“Please,” he growls, his hips thrusting up into my hand. “Please, Veronica.”
I don’t make him wait any longer. I sink down onto him, my body enveloping his as I ride him slowly, savoring the feel of him inside me.
He groans, his hands tugging at the makeshift restraints, but I don’t let up, my hips moving in a slow, deliberate rhythm that has him begging for more.
I grind down onto him, my nails digging into his chest. His hands strain against the fabric of my swimming costume, the makeshift bindings holding him captive.
I can see the frustration in his eyes, the way his body tenses, desperate to break free. But I like him like this—powerless, at my mercy, begging for me.
But then, something changes. His muscles coil beneath me, and before I can react, he snaps the fabric. His hands are free, and in one swift motion, he flips us.
My back hits the edge of the pool, the cool tile pressing into my skin as he pins me there. His body is a solid wall of heat, his chest heaving as he stares down at me.
His eyes are dark, furious, and yet, there’s a hunger there that makes my stomach clench.
“You think you can tie me up and make me beg?” he growls. His hands grip my wrists, pinning them above my head.
I arch into him, unafraid, my lips curving into a smirk. “And yet, you’re the one who begged,” I taunt, my voice breathy. “Begged your wife.”
His eyes narrow, and then his mouth is on mine, claiming me with a ferocity that leaves me breathless.
His tongue plunges into my mouth, and I moan, my body melting against his. His hips press into mine, and I can feel how hard he is, how much he wants me. But he doesn’t give in, not yet.
He pulls back, his lips trailing down my neck, sucking and biting until I’m squirming beneath him.
“Maxim,” I gasp, my fingers tangling in his hair. “Do it.”
He chuckles, the sound predatory. “Say please,” he demands, his teeth grazing my collarbone.
“No,” I hiss, my voice defiant even as my body betrays me, arching into his touch.
He lifts his head, his eyes locking onto mine. “Say it.”
I glare at him, but there’s no real heat in it. My body is already on fire, already aching for him. “Please,” I whisper, the word slipping out before I can stop it.
His grin is triumphant, and then he’s thrusting into me, hard, his cock filling me completely. I cry out, my nails scraping down his back as he begins to move, his hips slamming into mine with a rhythm that has me seeing stars.
“That’s it,” he growls, his voice rough with desire. “Take it, my wife. Take me.”
I wrap my legs around him, pulling him deeper, our bodies moving together in a desperate, frenzied motion.
His hands slide down my body, gripping my hips, holding me in place as he fucks me with a possessive intensity that leaves me breathless. He’s not gentle, not now. He’s feral, and I love it.
“You’re mine,” he growls, his breath hot against my ear. “Mine.”
I moan, my head falling back as pleasure crashes over me in waves. His fingers find my clit, rubbing in tight, deliberate circles, and I’m gone, my body shattering as I come around him.
He doesn’t stop, doesn’t slow down. Instead, he drives into me harder, chasing his own release with a desperation that has me crying out his name again and again.
And then he’s coming, his body tensing as he spills inside me, his growl loud and possessive. He collapses against me, his chest heaving, his breath warm against my skin.
“I could get used to these massages,” I say, kissing him hungrily. “Seven out of ten though. Must try harder next time.”