39. Tatiana
TATIANA
I llias lowered himself into the chair with a tired sigh.
Blood smeared his clothes and his hands. Exhaustion marred his face, but there was a hardness there too. The shadows on his face seemed darker. More drawn, somehow.
Another day had passed since I witnessed the torture. I still loved him. I still trusted him. But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t worried. For our future. For our babies. For our family.
“Are you okay?” I asked softly.
“She’s dead,” he answered flatly. “She wouldn’t break.” I nodded understandingly. If the woman refused to break after days of torture, nothing would break her. “If Nikita was alive, I could have gotten answers. But with him and Adrian dead, she lost her will to live.”
God, I wished I could do something for him. Anything.
I slid out of the bed and padded barefoot to him, wearing nothing but my silky, pink baby doll nightgown with my belly barely visible with each step I made. Taking his hand in mine, I wordlessly pulled him to his feet and over to the bathroom.
“Sit down,” I told him softly, nudging him down. “Let me take care of you.”
He eyed me tiredly as I turned on the sink and grabbed a cloth. I put it under the running water and began to clean his face, wiping away the speckles of his aunt’s blood still clinging to his face.
“You shouldn’t do this in your condition,” he said in a strangled voice. “It made you sick yesterday.” I swallowed, remembering how my throat burned as I puked my guts out last night. “I made a mess. I should clean myself up.”
I shook my head, chasing the memory of last night away. “You’re lucky. I have nothing to throw up,” I teased, wiping blood off his forehead. Each time I put the cloth under the running water, it ran red, staining the white sink pink.
“Besides, we’re partners. Remember?” I reminded him with a soft smile, moving on to softly wiping his knuckles. His hands. “You did that for us. For this .” I put my hand on my belly, his gaze darkening. “To keep us all protected. So the least I can do is help my husband clean up.”
His eyes met mine. “You shouldn’t have seen it. You shouldn’t have seen me like that.”
I threw the cloth into the sink and turned off the water, then cupped his face. I pressed my lips against his and my chest fluttered in that familiar way when he kissed me. Deep and raw.
When he finally pulled back, we were breathing heavily.
“I want all of you, Illias,” I rasped bluntly, my left palm against his cheek. Then I ran my fingers over his dark stubble. “I want your darkness. Your light. Your struggles. Your successes. All of it. You save me; I save you. We’re in this together.”
He took my free hand into his, our fingers intertwining. Both of us watched his tanned skin against my pale skin. His big hand against my small one. Yet, we fit perfectly.
“Together,” he rasped.
I smiled and reluctantly let go of his hand, then turned on the shower. The sound of water running filled the bathroom, the constant rush vibrating through the air.
I returned to my husband and put both my hands on his shoulders, straddling him.
I wasn’t queasy from the blood, nor of the knowledge he had just killed someone.
She wasn't innocent. She might have been once upon a time, but now she was a threat.
She planned my death along with Adrian and Nikita. She almost cost us our babies.
His sins were my sins. The blood on his hands was blood on my hands.
I pushed his suit jacket off him and tossed it to the floor. The white dress shirt, stained by the blood of his aunt, fit him like a second skin. I’d never have enough of this man. His strength. His masculinity. I loved every inch of him.
My fingers fumbled with his buttons, one by one, until I was able to touch his skin.
I slid my hand down my chest and down his stomach, his warm skin searing through my palm.
Fisting my pink baby doll top, he ripped the material.
The shredding sound filled the bathroom.
Then fisting the string of my thong, he ripped that flimsy material off too, leaving a sharp sting behind.
His gaze grew half-lidded as his eyes roamed my body. My breathing grew shallow at the reverence in those dark pools.
He ran his hand over my little bump. “Our babies,” he said, his voice hoarse.
A smile touched my lips. “Our babies,” I repeated, meeting his eyes. “Safe because of you.”
A groan vibrated through his chest and he wrapped his hand around my nape and kissed me, then slipped his tongue into my mouth. He pulled my bottom lip between his teeth, sucking on it. Nipping it.
That familiar, hazy lust pooled in my stomach, but it was so much more than just that. It was lust and love, without any thorns. They no longer hurt nor pricked. Those once painful thorns now bound us together. Forever.
“I love you,” I murmured, our lips inches apart and his eyes deep, dark pools keeping me a willing captive.
Pushing the shirt off his shoulders and letting it fall soundlessly to the tile, I let my hands travel over his hot skin.
I ran my fingers through the hard ridges of his muscles, scraping my nails over his skin.
I shifted to his erection, rocking my hips and grinding against his pants, needing to feel him, skin to skin.
Moans and whimpers escaped me as I ground against him completely naked.
He let out a few Russian curses, his fingers pushing into my hair and yanking my head back.
“I love you too,” he admitted. “So fucking much that it terrifies me,” he rasped, the look in his eyes owning the words. Vulnerability lingered there.
A shaky breath escaped me as my hands reached for his belt. “Ditto,” I whispered.
His hands slid under my butt as he stood up. My legs wrapped tightly around his waist. His pants fell down his muscular legs with a quiet thunk and he kicked them off.
For a moment, we just watched each other. His mouth was barely an inch from mine. His minty breath mixed with citrus and sandalwood, clouding all my senses. The tip of his tongue traced the corner of my lips, licking a trail over my cheek and to my ear.
“Ready to be fucked, Wife?” he whispered darkly into my ear.
“Yes,” I breathed. I’d been born ready for him, but he swallowed those words as his mouth latched on to mine. His hot skin seared mine, my nipples hardening under his touch.
A shiver rolled through me and my heart thundered wildly.
He walked us into the shower, the water trickling down our bodies like rain.
He pressed me against the wall, my legs still wrapped around his waist and he captured a nipple in his mouth.
He licked and sucked, while his hands kneaded my other breast. Then he switched, giving his mouth to the other.
My hips rolled against him and with each arch of my back, the tip of his hard cock brushed against my hot, greedy entrance.
My pussy clenched, a pulse throbbing between my legs. “Please,” I begged, feeling his hard length against my entrance.
In one powerful thrust, he pushed deep inside me, filling me to the hilt.
I moaned. He groaned. His hand slipped between our bodies, tracing down my pussy until he found my clit.
He circled it, again and again. My eyes rolled back into my head.
I arched my back, my nipples brushing against his chest.
“ Fuck . You take my cock so good, moya luna ,” he praised, my thighs quivering. He lowered his gaze, looking down at where we were connected. “I love seeing my cock disappear into your pussy.”
His hold tightened on me, his fingers digging into my ass. Our heartbeats thundered as one. He gripped my hips, grinding them harder against him and making me bounce with each slam against his length. He filled me so perfectly.
Bobbing me on his erection, I held on to him like he was my lifeline. No, not like. He was my lifeline. His gaze trailed over my breasts, the water cascading down over my pregnant belly and further down to where he slid in and out of me. His gaze caught fire watching as our bodies connected.
My moans grew with each thrust. His groans turned harsher, matching the force of his groin slapping against my flesh. The savage power of his hips as he rammed into me, pushed my pleasure higher.
“My dirty little wife.” His voice was like a velvet, his ruthless thrusts sending shudders through my body. “Your cunt is strangling my cock, greedy for more.”
My back arched against the tile as I thrashed against it. My core tingled. The world started to spin. My whimpers grew louder, my pants harder.
“Oh… God… Yes, yes, yes.” My walls clenched around his shaft as his rhythm took on a whole new level. He fucked me like he owned me. Scratch like. He did own me. My body, heart and soul. Just as I owned him.
“So close,” I moaned. Each thrust stretched me further, accommodating his hard length.
“Fuck, you’re so perfect.” He strained, his speed increasing. My heartbeat roared in my ears as he hit that sweet spot. His rhythm turned animalistic, feral, uncontrollable, as he rammed inside me. Each thrust rattled my teeth and my insides.
“Ahhh… Illias… Oh, fuck.” I screamed as the pleasure detonated.
I came so hard that spots swam in my vision.
My husband powered into me, over and over again, fucking me through my orgasm so that, just as I reached my peak, another one rolled right behind it.
He drove into me with such force that I was certain I was falling apart.
Our gazes met. His sparked like black diamonds, the lust and love in his gaze mirroring my own.
He crashed his mouth to my lips, plunging his tongue inside. He swallowed my moans and with a punishing last thrust, he spilled inside me.
My hands wrapped around him, I buried my face into my husband’s neck. Our breathing harsh and our hearts beating as one, we remained like that as the water showered down our bodies. This was heaven. This was happiness. This was–
“Thorns of love,” he muttered, breathing heavily. I shifted to seek out his gaze, furrowing my brows.