25. Kirill
Chapter 25
Kirill
She doesn't understand what she's asking. I'm not the kind of man who makes love. I fuck, hard and nasty. For her, though, I will change everything about who I am. I brush the hair back from her face, exposing her high cheekbones. I look at her, really look at her, drinking in how beautiful she is.
Not only beautiful, but brave too.
If she is brave enough to survive what happened in that basement and not blame me, I'm brave enough to do this for her.
If she is brave enough to kill my father, the man who haunted my nightmares, then I can step up for her right now.
I duck my head and take her lips in another soft, warm kiss. She tastes faintly of cinnamon, and a soft groan escapes me as we deepen the kiss.
My hands sweep down her arms and back up again to rest at the base of her throat. I caress the side of her neck and up to her nape as I add a swirl of my tongue into the kiss. Her arms wrap around my neck, and she presses herself tightly against me.
There is a part of me that is scared I won't be able to do this. That my body will let me down. The shame I keep feeling is overwhelming, but as her warmth seeps into me, my body begins to respond.
She breaks off the kiss and steps back, licking her lips. I frown, confused for a moment. Her smile lights up her face, and she begins to slowly undress.
It's not a striptease—she's slowly unwrapping herself for me in an open and honest way, letting her clothes fall to the floor until she's completely naked. Once she's undressed, she stands in front of me, her arms down by her side, and her palms facing outward. It's as if she's saying, here I am, look at me. See me.
“I see you,” I say.
“This is all for you, and I include my heart in that.”
Something inside me snaps, and a wave of emotion rolls over me. I find myself growing hard, but more than that, I feel an upsurge of love for her. In two strides, I'm in front of her, and I swoop her into my arms to carry her to the bed. I place her gently on the mattress, and then, not taking my eyes off her beautiful form for one second, I undress myself, too.
Once I'm naked, I climb onto the bed and over her body. I kiss her forehead, her cheeks, her nose, and then make tiny butterfly kisses across her mouth. I trail my kisses down her chin and the long column of her neck.
When I reach her chest, instead of going immediately for her tits, I kiss across her collarbone, and then down into the dip between her breasts. Her flat stomach is warm, and as I work my way down it, she lets out a soft giggle.
“That tickles,” she says.
I blow a raspberry on her belly, and her laugh is rich and free. The sound is happy, and it fills this room that was so haunted by sadness mere moments ago with joy.
Part of me knows we shouldn't be doing this. Not really. Not when we did it without the other two back in the basement, and also in my room with the hairbrush.
I pause and look up at her. “Do you think they’ll mind?”
“Not if it brings you back to us,” she says.
Us , not me . If it brings you back to us.
I smile at her, at her words, and kiss across to her hip bone, giving a tiny bite there and then licking it better.
When I reach between her legs, I ignore her pussy and work my way down her right leg until I reach her foot. I kiss each perfect toe, and then do the same back up her left leg. She tastes delicious. Her skin is as soft as velvet and as smooth as silk. I relish the feel of her against my lips as I work my way back to that place between her legs, where she's already glistening with arousal for me.
I part her folds and gently lick her. I want to make her come, but I also want this first one to be gentle. I keep the flicks of my tongue light, and when she starts to whimper and moan, I slowly push my tongue inside her, groaning at the taste of her.
A dark part of me—that sick, wild part—tries to break free in this moment, but I ruthlessly push it back down.
As she breaks and comes around me, I keep gently working her with my tongue until she falls back against the bed, panting like she's just run up two flights of stairs.
Lazily, I kiss my way up her body until I reach her face, which I take in my hands. For a long beat, we simply stare at one another, and then I'm kissing her again and she's kissing me right back. Her arms snake around me, and her legs too, and I don't know where I end and she begins.
She hitches her hips upward, and I pause. “Are you sore?”
I’m aware that she had both Dom and Tino inside her at the same time, and I don’t want to hurt her.
“A little,” she admits, “but I know you’ll be gentle.”
She knows I will, and that means everything to me. She still trusts me, even after what I did. I press down, then I'm inside her, her wet heat enveloping me. I lick and suck at the side of her neck, nibbling the delicate shell of her ear, as I move in and out of her.
Her muscles grip me, and even though this is slow and lazy, she’s still clamping deliciously around me.
Scenes from that basement push their way back into my mind, but I refuse them entry.
This is why I am not like my father. He would never have been capable of this. The way he treated my mother was never with tenderness or compassion. Everything about him was hard, vicious, and cruel.
I can be those things if needs be. I will be them for our Duchess if she needs protecting, and will be them for my friends. However, I will not show those tendencies toward Mackenzie, unless she wants me to, in bed.
Her pussy is soaking, and she grinds hard against me as we become more heated in our movements. I’m chasing that high, craving that moment I fall over the edge into bliss. Into her.
When it comes, the pleasure crashes over me in big, rolling waves.
Mackenzie gives a soft cry and pulses around me as she joins me, clinging tightly to me. I fill her with myself, and even when I’m finished, I still keep moving inside her. I slide in and out, relishing the sensation of her wetness and my seed mingling together.
For a crazy moment, I let myself fantasize that I get her pregnant like my father wanted. That I am the one who puts a baby inside her.
If I did have a baby with her, if we all did, we'd need to step up to the plate and be much better fathers than we ever had for ourselves. We’d need to vow to break that generational curse together.
I just hope I can be man enough to do that for her.