Chapter 15 - Viktor
Shutting the door behind me, I drew in a breath, filled my lungs with smoke, and exhaled.
Nicotine mixed with my blood fueled my veins, and my nerves relaxed. The lights were off and only a flood of silver moonlight poured in through the window. My eyes searched for her and stopped when they saw her, seated close to the edge of the bed with her knees drawn to her chest. A full, unruly mane of red hair covered the sides of her face, long legs stayed exposed underneath her bright pink night dress, and fair skin glowed under the light. She looked simply divine. Like an angel tainted by the darkness.
Silence dwelt between us, and I didn’t bother to break it. More time to admire her; to see the beauty I could now call mine.
I advanced toward the bed and heard her inhale sharply when I stopped a few inches away from her. Without a word, I watched her intently, committing every detail of her beautiful body while my fingers worked the buttons on my shirt. She turned her head away like she hadn’t already seen me naked.
“Shy?”
She slid her hair behind her ears and continued to look the other way. “Giving you privacy, that’s all.”
Shrugging off the cotton shirt, I joined her on the bed, sitting close enough to feel her feet touching my thighs. “We stay in the same room, dove.” I lifted her left foot and put it on my lap. “I don’t want privacy.”
Her skin burned under my touch, and she shuddered like a cold breeze had swept over her. I relished seeing the effect I had on her; enjoyed knowing her body recognized me just as much as mine recognized hers. She faced me, glanced at her foot in my hand, and looked up at my face. The innocence in her green eyes was transparent, pricking. Besides the innocence was anxiety as well.
That was good. She was finally losing that pride; the one that made her think and believe that she could escape me. Reality had crashed in on the both of us that this—the symbolic ring on our fingers—was now our fate. Sealed, signed, and stamped. There was no more running away or hunting down. She was bound to me, as I was to her.
“How did you know?” she asked, her voice small and almost inaudible. “About the baby.”
I pulled on her toes, one after the other, fascinated by the nude sparkling polish on each toenail. I raised my face to meet hers. “On her eighteenth birthday, my sister wanted a nail polish, but we couldn’t afford it. It wasn’t a priority. Bread over trash, my mother said. But she had this snobby bitchy friend who lived a penny higher than us. She had a nail polish. Two, in fact. Whenever my sister and I visited in their one-room apartment, she’d hide all her valuable things because she didn’t trust us.”
Understanding swam in her green orbs and her throat bobbed when she swallowed. “You found them.”
“I did.” I nodded and lifted her other foot to my lap. They were so cute, I wanted to kiss them. “My sister got her wish granted twelve days after she turned eighteen.”
Ava withdrew her feet and tucked them under her legs. Fright replaced the anxiety in her eyes. “You kept an eye on me. That’s how you knew, isn’t it? You had me stalked.”
Somehow, hearing her sound offended refired the anger I’d felt after I found out about her engagement to Declan. Who gave her the fucking right to be angry? “Now, you think you’re a fucking saint? What were you planning to do with my baby? Seduce Dicklan after marriage to make him believe it’s his? Or getting a fucking abortion? How dare you even think I wouldn’t find out?”
“Seduce him?” Her eyes flared. “One mistake, and you think the worst of me. I shouldn’t even care what you think. Declan knew about the pregnancy. I told him the truth, and he agreed to keep the secret. He was ready to become my child’s father.”
“Our fucking child, Ava.” She flinched, and I chuckled. It was dry and humorless. “You’re so fucking na?ve if you thought that he’d care for our child like it was his. If he got the chance, he’d kill our baby.”
Brows wrinkled between her forehead and the fury in her eyes died. “Declan wouldn’t do a thing like that. He’s a good man.”
Hearing her defending him kicked me in the chest. I got on the bed, clasped her ankles with one hand, and dragged her under me.
She looked up at me, doe-eyed, and chest heaving in apprehension. Her dress had ridden to her waist, baring more than enough skin to drive me crazy. My anger flew out the window and lust reoccupied the void.
Lowering my head, my teeth grazed the skin below her shoulder blade, and I flicked my tongue on the spot. I heard her heartbeat and saw her eyelashes flutter. “Your judgments are misplaced, dove. Declan’s not a good man, and he fucking hates me.” I eyed her mouth and brushed my lips over hers. “Just the way you hate me.”
Something warm and regretful passed her eyes and her gaze lowered to my mouth. “I... I don’t hate you, Viktor.”
At the sound of my name, blood shot to my cock, and it strained in my pants. Dizziness washed me and need consumed me. Need for the woman pinned under me. I nuzzled my face between her neck and kissed her throat. Her breath fanned my forehead, and I gripped the curve of her hip. “You do. You fucking stabbed me in the thigh, remember?”
My lips trailed down the length of her throat, to the valley between her breasts where her tits peeked through the sheer material and I took one in my mouth, sucking through the fabric. Her fingers sought solace in my hair.
“That was a mistake.”
I smiled against her soft mound and kneaded one with my hand. She shivered and her moans sounded like purrs in my ears.
“Liar.” Her back arched, pressing her deeper into me. I sucked again, liking the feel of her in my mouth. “That was intentional.”
“I’m sorry,” she breathed. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
My hands left her breast, and I smacked her soft ass. She yelped and I cupped her cheeks. “Never fucking apologize for being brave.” I covered her mouth with mine and she melted with no resistance. She tasted sweet, like wine and grapes. I wanted more; more of her. I craved it; her touch, her smell.
Our lips moved feverishly against each other’s, and she mimicked me, moving her lips over mine with attention, sliding her tongue in and out, tasting, teasing.
“You’re mine, Ava,” I bit down on her lip and swiped my tongue to soothe the ache. Then, I kissed her deeper. Harder. “You’re mine to hold, to taste, to tease...”
Harshly, I tugged on the band of her thong and pulled until it ripped. She shimmed out of the destroyed fabric, and I repeated the action with the night dress. The sound of seams tearing apart echoed in the room and fueled the desire to run off course to my rock-hard. “You are mine to fuck.”
I stared at her naked body and lost all sense of reasoning when her hands stroked the thin line of hair, down my torso. Locked in her enchanting gaze, I allowed her to push down the band of my pants and stopped her when her hands sought further access to the strain on my briefs. I eagle-spread her legs and clenched my jaw at the sight of her soaking wet pussy.
“You make me so fucking hard, dove. You send my blood boiling.”
“English, Viktor. Speak English,” she mumbled, out of breath. I hadn’t even touched her, and I could see the readiness written all over her body. She was so fucking irresistible; I found it hard to breathe. She moved her other hand to her wet sex between her legs, but I caught her hand, pinning both arms above her head.
I brought my cock out and nestled between her hips. “Mine,” I growled.
Unexpectedly, she kissed me. “Teach me,” she murmured, and I heard a snap inside my head.
Without warning, I slammed into her, and her breath caught in her throat. I started to pull out, concerned that I’d hurt her, but she wrapped her legs around my waist, trapping me in. Just when I thought she couldn’t take it, her hips moved, and she slowly stretched until all of me was buried inside her. I knew I wasn’t going to last very long. I felt like a bomb that could go at any second.
“Lesson number one.” I kissed her shoulder and her lips. “Call my name.”
I flipped her around, so that she hovered above me, held down on her hips, and slammed deeper, hitting her core. Her back arched, her hips moved, and she braced herself with her hands on my chest, riding me like an amateur fast-turning pro.
I pinned her down, made sure she took all of my cock in. Then, jerked my hips.
“Viktor...” she moaned loudly, and her eyes rolled to the back of her head.
Raising my hips, I held the perfect curves of her ass and thrust with more force. “Lesson number two.” At this pace, I wasn’t going to last another minute. “Repeat after me: I am yours.”
Slam.
“I’m yours.”
I was losing my hold, and I was losing it fast. My restraint was slipping. I wanted to burst, to release it all inside her. She was so fucking beautiful...
“Lesson number three.” Slam. “Come for me, my little dove.”
I’d commanded it in Russian, but she heard it somehow, and came undone, collapsing on me. Her body burned and the feel of her heartbeat on my chest drove me to the brink. I pecked her lips and came inside her.
When she rolled off me, she lifted the fur comforter to her cheeks. A few seconds later, I felt her fingers on my neck, trailing the ink softly and gently.
“What does it mean?” she pointed to the tattoo of a bird in flames and spears surrounding it, looking at me expectantly for an answer.
My first response was silence. I wanted to ignore the question, but talking to her came naturally. Fixing an arm behind my head, I stared at the ceiling. “I got it on my seventeenth birthday. That day, all I wanted was a cherry cake, but we couldn’t even afford two loaves of bread.” I chuckled darkly, remembering how badly I’d craved it.
“I wanted nothing else but that damn cherry cake.”
She was quiet but hadn’t fallen asleep. I felt her eyes hot on my face.
“I didn’t get the cake,” I said. “So, I got the tattoo instead. I didn’t have to pay for that. I had a friend who had a knack for art and worked at a tattoo shop. He asked me what I wanted, and I told him, ‘A bird wanting to be free but always finding itself trapped.’ The flames, the spears... that’s what life was like back then for me. But I swore that I’d rise to the point where I could get cherry cake whenever I wanted. Stupid, I know.”
The fur comforter rustled, and her soft body pressed against mine. She kissed my neck and whispered, “Not stupid.”
I didn’t want to look at her. Didn’t want her to see the reflection of my past through my eyes. Beyond the flames and the spears were thorns and broken bottles. Cold days and harsh nights of starvation. Brutal street fights to earn fucking scraps of food. Fucking women as old as my mother for money.
She rubbed her arms and I succumbed to the first instinct. I held her close until we both fell asleep.