Chapter 12 #2
He scoops me up before I can protest. I wrap my arms around his neck, gasping at how easily he lifts me.
“Thank you. No one’s ever carried me like this before.”
“Good,” he says. “I plan to be the only one who gets to hold you like this.”
Being carried up to my own apartment by an unhinged Russian who won’t let me struggle up the stairs myself is weirdly … nice. I can’t help the small smile that tugs at my lips.
I glance at his face. He’s not struggling at all, doesn’t even look tired. I’d probably throw my back out and drop him face-first if I tried this.
He sets me down gently when we reach my door. His hand’s already in his pocket, pulling out a key.
His key. To my apartment.
That he made without asking me.
I should say something. Should ask when the fuck he did that, why he thinks that’s acceptable, what other boundaries he’s planning to bulldoze through. But I don’t.
Who does things like that?
He opens the door, and I walk in. Then he’s on me. Instant. No space between us, his mouth against my neck, teeth scraping skin.
“Do you want to shower with me?” I ask while he works his way down my throat.
He hums against my pulse.
I’m taking that as a yes.
He shoves his tongue into my mouth and slams me into the wall, lifting me up. My ribs scream in protest, but I wrap my legs around him anyway, too lost in this to care about the pain. He carries me toward the bathroom.
Our mouths break long enough for him to strip me down, tossing my clothes onto the floor. His lips drag down my neck, across my chest, locking on my nipples.
He bites, sucks, licks, and my hands bury in his hair. I lean down and kiss the top of his head, can’t help it.
Then he rips his clothes off, and my mouth actually waters. His inked body is ridiculous—uncut cock hard and heavy.
My chest tightens seeing all of him bare.
He returns for my mouth, but I push back his head with my hands in his hair. He looks back at me, hungry, and just … stops.
I’m sure the last person who told him what to do ended up in a shallow grave somewhere.
But right now, he’s letting me hold him back. Waiting.
My chest does something weird. This man kills people for a living, and he’s just letting me stop him. What I want actually matters to him. I tighten my grip in his hair, testing it. Seeing if this is real or if he’s about to snap and take over like I expect him to.
He doesn’t move. Just keeps watching me.
“I want you so bad …”
“Every part of me belongs to you. Take what’s yours, zaychik.”
His hand finds the shower knob behind me, water bursting to life as his lips crush mine, rough, easing me back into the tile. Hot water streams over our skin.
The way he told that girl to fuck off at the coffee shop and is clearly breaking his own rules for me by going out with me is seriously attractive. I don’t know what’s so special about me or why he chose me, but it’s making me feel … important. Wanted.
For the first time in my life, I actually feel like the person I’m with wants me.
I just need to unlearn everything David beat into me. Every instinct that says I should be grateful for scraps. Every reflex that makes me apologize for existing. Every voice in my head that sounds like him telling me I’m lucky anyone puts up with me at all.
Alexei looks at me like I’m the only person in the room. Not the backup plan. Not the safe option. Not the guy who’ll shut up and take whatever gets thrown his way.
Just … me.
I grab our cocks and work us over, moaning when I rub my thumb over my tip.
The contrast between us—my cock smooth and his thick with foreskin—makes every stroke feel different, intoxicating.
The way his foreskin drags back and forth in my fist, sliding over the head with each pump, drives me insane.
He holds me against the shower wall, one hand braced beside my head, the other gripping my hip as he grinds into my grip and fucks my hand like he’s already inside me.
His eyes burn into me, dark and predatory. My head tips back against the wet tile, trapped in his gaze until he looks down between us. I follow his line of sight and watch my hand stroke us both—pre-cum leaks from our tips.
“This feels amazing,” I gasp, my hand moving faster.
He leans in closer, his breath hot against my ear despite the steam. “I can’t wait to fuck you, zaychik. I’ll stretch you open on my fingers until you’re shaking, begging for more, then fuck you until you can’t remember anything but how good I feel.”
A whimper tears out of me, and I pump us faster, desperate for more friction, more pressure, more of him. His tongue drags down my neck, hot against my wet skin.
“You want that?” he says, voice rough against my throat. “Want me inside you?”
“Yes,” I choke out. “God, yes.”
His hand leaves the wall and wraps around mine, guiding my strokes, making them rougher, faster. Our fingers tangle together around our cocks, slick with water and pre-cum, and the added pressure makes my vision blur.
“You’re going to take every inch of me,” he whispers, his teeth grazing my jaw. “I’m going to make you mine in every way that matters. Fuck you so deep you’ll feel me for days.”
“Please,” I beg, not even sure what I’m asking for anymore. Just more. Everything.
When his teeth catch my earlobe and bite down hard, I shudder and nearly come.
He shifts his angle, grinding his cock against mine in our grip, and the friction is almost too much. “I’m going to ruin you for anyone else,” he murmurs, voice rough and wrecked. “You’ll never want another cock but mine.”
“I don’t,” I gasp. “I only want you.”
Something in his expression shifts, goes darker, more possessive. He crushes his mouth against mine, kissing me hard and filthy while our hands work frantically between us. His tongue pushes deep, claiming every inch of my mouth while water streams over us both.
I’m so close. Every nerve is on fire, every stroke pushing me closer to the edge. He breaks the kiss and sinks his teeth into my neck, hard, marking me like I’m territory he’s claiming.
“Come for me,” he commands against my skin. “Let me see you fall apart.”
That’s all it takes. Heat coils tight in my stomach, my balls pull up, and I groan through it as I spill into our joined hands, cum mixing with the water running down our bodies. My whole body shakes with it, wave after wave.
He watches me the entire time, eyes locked on my face like he’s memorizing every expression, every sound I make. Then he grinds into our grip twice more, jaw clenching, and releases with a rough groan. His cum spreads hot across my skin before the water washes it all away.
I drop my face into his shoulder and let him hold me, trying to catch my breath.
“Zaychik.”
“Hmm?”
“I meant what I said earlier. About people staying away from you.”
My brain takes a second to process that. I don’t even know what to do with that information. I huff out a laugh and tilt my head back to look at him. His brown eyes are dead serious, no trace of humor anywhere.
“You can’t just say things like that, Alexei.”
“You needed to know.”
“Normal people say ‘I care about you’ or ‘You’re important to me.’”
“I don’t do normal.”
No. No, he really doesn’t.
His arms tighten around me, possessive and solid and so him that I don’t even know what to do with it. This is probably the most romantic thing he knows how to say. Threats instead of feelings. Murder instead of love confessions.
Fucked up. But somehow it works.
“Okay,” I say against his shoulder, too tired to unpack whatever the hell this means for us.
He hums, and I realize I just let a man threaten murder on my behalf without arguing.
I should probably be more concerned about what I just agreed to.
Later. I’ll worry about it later.