Chapter 38
CHAPTER
THIRTY-EIGHT
DINARA
I wake to cold sheets and an empty bed. The room is dark except for the glow of the city filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows. I reach across the mattress, finding only the impression where Kirill’s body was, the lingering warmth already fading.
We collapsed into bed hours ago, exhausted. He’d held me close enough that I could barely breathe, like he was trying to convince himself I was real, that I was alive. I fell asleep listening to his heartbeat, feeling safe despite everything that happened.
I slip out of bed, pulling on one of his T-shirts that falls to mid-thigh. The penthouse is silent as I pad barefoot down the hallway, following the instinct that tells me exactly where he’ll be.
A slash of light guides me toward the main living area, but I stop when I reach the archway.
Kirill is sitting on the couch, elbows braced on his knees, a glass of whiskey cradled between his palms, his head bowed.
He’s shirtless, revealing the hard planes of muscle and the dark ink of his tattoos.
Something about the coiled tension in every line of his body reminds me of a predator forced into a cage, barely restraining the violence simmering just beneath his skin.
That should send me running, but it doesn’t.
His eyes stay fixed on the ground as I approach. Only when I’m standing right in front of him, impossible to ignore, does he finally look up. His eyes are hooded and dark. There’s something feral in them.
“Go back to the room.”
The dismissal stings but I know he’s in pain. It’s there in every tense line of his body, the guilt of putting people he cares for in the crossfire. But I refuse to leave him like this, raw and hurting and alone.
“No.”
He takes a slow sip of whiskey, never breaking eye contact. “I’m not in a good place right now. If you stay here, I’m going to use your body hard. So do yourself a favor and walk away.”
We hold each other’s gaze, neither one blinking, and something shifts in his expression. Interest flickers behind the darkness. He wants to see what I’ll do, if I’ll actually be stupid enough to stay.
I reach for the hem of his T-shirt and expose my midriff, letting the cool air chase the heat off my skin. His eyes go nearly black, darker than I’ve ever seen them, and the muscle in his jaw ticks hard enough to make my own pulse jump.
“I’ll give you to the count of three,” he says, his voice dropping an octave. “That was one.”
With a shiver, I raise the shirt higher this time. The fabric slides over my skin until my breasts are bared. His gaze drags up my body, and a flush spreads across my chest under the heavy pressure of it.
“Two.”
With a shuddered breath, I drag the fabric over my head and let it hit the floor. I’m naked and exposed, but the vulnerability is a sharp high.
“Three.”
For one brief moment I consider running, but it’s too late.
He sets the glass down. His hand shoots out, catches my wrist, and yanks me forward.
I stumble into him and land in his lap, his mouth crashing against mine in a kiss that’s more teeth than lips.
It’s brutal and claiming, like he’s trying to devour me whole.
His hands are everywhere. Sliding up my sides, digging into my hips. Then one fists in my hair, wrenching my head back so he can bite down on my neck.
I gasp, arching into him, and he makes a low sound of approval.
“You’re such a bad girl,” he growls against my throat. “I tell you to hide, and stay safe and you do the opposite.” His teeth scrape down to my collarbone. “God, I should tie you up and fuck you senseless. Leave my cum dripping from all your holes to teach you a lesson.”
My toes curl against the plush rug beneath my feet. Maybe I’m twisted and there’s something wrong with me, but I want exactly what he’s promising.
“Do it,” I breathe. “Use me however you want.”
He pulls back, and what I see in his eyes makes my breath catch. Raw need. Desperation. Like I’m the only thing standing between him and complete destruction.
“I’m going to ruin you,” he warns.
“I know.”
His hands go to my breasts, rough and demanding. He palms them, squeezes them, then dips his head to take one nipple into his mouth. The suction is hard, almost painful, and I cry out as he works me over with his teeth and tongue.
He moves to the other peak and bites down hard enough to leave a ring of darkening bruises. He wants to mark me. He wants undeniable proof of his claim left on my skin.
His hand comes down on my ass with a sharp slap, and the pain makes my core clench tight.
“Fuck!” I jerk against him, the sting mixing with pleasure in ways that make my head spin.
He does it again. Harder. “You like that, don’t you? Like it when I get rough with you.”
“Yes.” The word comes out as a moan.
“Of course you do.” Another slap, this time on the other side. “Because you’re perfect for me. Made for me. This tight little body was built to take everything I give it.”
He groans when his fingers slide between my legs, finding me already wet.
“Soaking already. You want my cock this badly?”
“Yes. Please.”
“Please what?”
“Please fuck me.”
He bites down on my nipple again, harder this time, and I arch into the sensation with a broken sound. “Not yet. First I want you to beg properly. Show me how much you need it.”
His fingers work me mercilessly, rubbing tight circles around my clit while his other hand continues to toy with my nipples. Pinching. Pulling. Marking me as his.
“Kirill, please. I need you inside me. Need to feel you.”
“Why should I give you what you want when you didn’t listen to me? You risked your life when I told you not to.” He pushes two fingers inside me, curling them in a way that makes me see stars.
“I saved your life, and I’d do it again.”
His forehead drops against mine, breath ragged. “Dinara.” Just my name, broken open.
“Maybe I should just fuck you with my fingers. Make you come like this and send you back to your room.”
“No!” I grab his shoulders, desperate. “Please. I need more. Need all of you.”
“All of me?” His thumb finds my clit and I nearly sob. “You think you can handle all of me when I’m like this? When I’m not going to be gentle or sweet? When I’m going to take everything I want and leave you wrecked?”
“Yes. God, yes. Please.”
Something in him snaps. He pulls his fingers out of me and roughly pushes me off his lap. “Stand up.”
I do, my legs shaky.
He’s still in his pants, cock thick and heavy, jutting out from his open zipper. The contrast between his put-together appearance and his exposed need makes something clench inside me.
“Sit on my cock,” he orders. “Take what you need.”
I straddle his lap, positioning myself over him. The head of his cock nudges against my entrance and we both groan.
“Slowly,” he commands. “I want to watch you take every inch.”
I lower myself down and feel the stretch, the burn, the perfect fullness. By the time I’m fully impaled on his dick, we’re both breathing ragged.
“That’s it. That’s my good girl.” His hands grip my hips. “Now ride me. Show me how badly you needed this.”
I start to move, rolling my hips, finding a rhythm. He watches me with those dark, hungry eyes, like I’m the most fascinating thing he’s ever seen.
“Faster,” he growls.
I speed up, bouncing in his lap, chasing the pleasure building inside me. His hands move to my breasts, playing with them roughly while I work myself on him.
“That’s it. Look at you, taking my cock so well. You love this, don’t you? Love being used like this.”
“Yes,” I gasp. “Love it. Love feeling you inside me.”
One of his hands slides down to where we’re joined, his thumb finding my clit. The added stimulation makes me cry out, my rhythm faltering.
“Don’t stop,” he demands. “Keep riding me. I want to feel you come on my cock.”
I’m so close, teetering on the edge. His thumb works my clit in tight circles while I bounce on his length, and the combination is too much.
“Kirill, I’m going to…”
“Come for me. Now.”
The orgasm crashes over me like a wave, and I throw my head back with a scream. He doesn’t let up, doesn’t give me a chance to recover. His hands mercilessly grip my hips as he drives into me, hard and fast.
“My turn,” he growls. “Hold on, solnyshko.”
He ruthlessly fucks me through the aftershocks and straight into another climax, using my body exactly like he promised he would. His fingers dig into my hips, bruising, but I don’t care. I want proof of his claim on me.
“So perfect,” he mutters, voice strained. “So fucking perfect. Mine. This counts as consummation, wife.”
“Yours,” I agree, because at this moment it’s true. Because I want to be, even though I know better. “All yours.”
That does it. He buries himself deep and comes with a guttural sound that makes me clench around him. He pulses inside me, filling me, and pleasure ripples through me again.
My face is still buried in his neck, breathing him in for this final moment of connection. Because I don’t know what comes after this.
When he finally speaks, his voice is rough. “Did I hurt you?”
I shake my head. “I wanted that as much as you.”
He shifts carefully, settling me against his chest, my legs tucked between his. His arm stays firm around my waist, grounding me there, like he’s afraid that if he loosens his hold I’ll disappear.
He reaches for the closest throw blanket and wraps it around my shoulders.
We sit in silence for a while, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on my hip. The city glows outside the windows, oblivious to everything that happened today. To the blood spilled, the lives taken, the fear that still sits heavy in my chest.
“I almost got you killed today.” His voice is quiet, raw. “Rosa. Carlos. You. All because of me.”
I pull back to look at his face. “That wasn’t your fault. The Ghost…”
“Is coming after me. And everyone close to me is collateral damage.” His jaw clenches. “I brought you into this. Married you, made you a target. Today proved that.”
I touch his face, forcing him to meet my eyes. “This is my world too, Kirill. Violence, danger, people trying to kill us, that’s not new to me. I grew up in the Syndicate. Pavel trained me for this.”
“Training isn’t the same as living it.”
“No, but I chose this. I chose to help you hunt the Ghost. I chose to stay.” I chose you. I don’t say, because that truth is too raw to speak out loud.
His thumb brushes across my cheekbone. “There’s nothing normal about my life. “
I lean into his touch. “I don’t want normal.”
He draws away, his expression shifting to something more serious. “It’s better if you step back from the operation. It’s going to be dangerous, Dinara. Much more dangerous than today.”
My spine stiffens. “You’re benching me?” I pull away from him, creating space between us. “I have skin in the game now. The Ghost tried to kill me today too. And we have a deal.”
“Fuck the deal. I’ll help you anyway,” he says quietly.
“I’m not a mafia princess you need to protect,” I remind him. “I proved that to you.”
A shadow passes over his face. “You’re going to be the death of me, you know that?”
A reluctant smile tugs at his mouth before he kisses me, soft this time, gentle. So different from the brutal claiming earlier. This kiss is tender, like something that could break both of us.
When he pulls away, I rest my head on his shoulder, listening to his heartbeat. Strong and steady. I stare at the ring on my finger. His mother’s ring. A symbol of something that’s supposed to be temporary, a strategic move, except it doesn’t feel temporary anymore.
It feels way too fucking real.