Chapter 4 Jemma #2
She holds up a star made of popsicle sticks and glitter. It's lopsided and half the glitter has fallen off, but it's oddly charming.
I look at Konstantin. "You made this?"
"I was seven. Art wasn't my strong suit."
"It's perfect." I hang it on the tree carefully. "We should put it somewhere visible."
Something flickers in his eyes. "You think so?"
"Yeah. It's part of your history. It matters."
He looks at me for a long moment. Then he pulls me close and kisses me, right there in front of everyone.
Someone whistles. Someone else laughs. But Konstantin doesn't stop until he's ready.
When he pulls back, his mother is crying happy tears.
"Look at them!" she sobs to Anya. "They are so in love! I knew it! I KNEW IT!"
My chest gets tight.
By the time the tree is finished, it's beautiful. Lights and ornaments and tinsel everywhere. Natasha insists we all take a photo in front of it. Konstantin stands behind me, his arms around my waist, his chin resting on top of my head.
"Perfect!" Yelena is taking approximately a thousand photos. "So perfect! My family! All together!"
And despite everything—the kidnapping, the lies, the insanity—I feel something warm bloom in my chest.
These people barely know me, but they're treating me like family.
It's been a long time since I felt like I belonged anywhere.
After lunch, people start dispersing. Naps, errands, phone calls. Konstantin takes my hand.
"Come with me."
He leads me back to our room. Locks the door behind us.
"Round three?" I tease, but my pulse is already quickening.
"Eventually." He sits on the edge of the bed and pulls me between his knees. "But first, I want to talk."
"Talk?"
"Yes. Like normal people do."
"Based on the last two days, I don’t think we’re normal people."
"Fair point." His hands slide up my sides. "I want to know more about you. Real things. Not just what a background check tells me."
My stomach flips. "You mean there are things you don't already know?"
"I know the facts. Your parents died when you were nineteen. Car accident. You were a sophomore at UBC. No siblings. Forty-seven thousand in student loans." His thumb traces circles on my hip. "But I don't know how you felt. What it was like. Who you became after."
"You really want to know?"
"Yes."
I'm quiet for a moment. Then: "It was hard.
Losing them both at once. I almost dropped out of school.
But I didn't because... because they would have wanted me to finish.
And I realized I wanted to help other people who were going through loss.
That's why I switched to social work. Why I want to be a therapist."
"You're going to be good at it," he says quietly.
“I've watched you be kind to people who don't deserve it.
Patient with people who are rude. You care about others, even when it costs you.
" He pulls me down onto his lap. "The background check told me your history. But watching you told me who you are."
I smile and straddle his thighs. The moment is warm, cozy, and almost romantic.
He cups my face. "I want you. And I'm going to do everything in my power to make you want to stay."
"I already want to stay," I admit.
His eyes go dark. "Say that again."
"I want to stay. I know it's crazy. I know we barely know each other. But being here with you, with your family..." I swallow hard. "I haven't felt this wanted in years." I kiss him. The kiss is softer than last night, more exploratory.
His hands slide under my sweater, warm against my skin.
"I want to try something," I whisper against his mouth.
"Anything."
I push him back on the bed and start unbuttoning his pants. His hands still on my hips, watching me with dark, hungry eyes.
"What are you doing?"
"Taking control. You've been in charge since you kidnapped me. It's my turn now."
A slow, dangerous smile spreads across his face. "Is that so?"
"Yes." I pull his pants and boxer briefs down, freeing his cock. It's thick and hard, already leaking precum. "And you're going to let me."
"Am I?"
We both know he could overpower me in a second, but he humors me.
"Yes. You're going to lie there and let me ride your cock. Let me set the pace. Let me take what I want." I start stripping off my own clothes, watching his eyes widen as I reveal myself to him. "And you're going to love every second of it."
"Fuck," he breathes. "You're perfect."
I climb back on top of him, straddling his hips. His cock is trapped between us, hot and hard against my stomach.
"Ground rules," I say, running my hands over his chest. "You don't flip us over. You don't take control. You let me use your cock however I want. Understood?"
His jaw clenches. "And if I don't?"
"Then I stop." I lift up slightly, positioning myself above him. "And you don't get to come inside me." I reach down, wrap my hand around his cock, and stroke him slowly. "So? Do you agree?"
"Yes." The word comes out strained. "Fuck. Yes. Anything you want."
I position him at my entrance and sink down slowly. So slowly. Inch by inch, taking him deeper.
He groans, his hands gripping my hips hard enough to bruise. "Jemma."
"Shh. My pace, remember?"
I keep sinking until he's completely inside of me. "God, you're so deep like this," I gasp.
"You feel incredible. So fucking tight. So hot." His eyes are locked on where we're joined. "Look at you. Taking my cock so well. Your pussy is stretched around me, so full."
I start moving, slow rolls of my hips.
"That's it," he groans. "Fuck yourself on my cock. Use me. Take what you need."
I brace my hands on his chest and start riding him properly. Up and down, finding a rhythm that hits all the right spots.
"You look like a goddess like this," he pants. "Your tits bouncing. Your head thrown back. Riding me like you own me."
"I do own you." I lean down, my hair falling around us like a curtain. "You're mine, Konstantin. Say it."
"I'm yours," he growls. "Completely yours. I've been yours since the first time you smiled at me in that coffee shop."
"Good." I sit back up, changing the angle. Now he's hitting that perfect spot inside me with every movement. "Because I'm keeping you."
I ride him faster now, chasing my pleasure. His hands slide from my hips to my breasts, palming them, thumbing my nipples.
"That's it, beautiful. Take what you need. Come on my cock."
"Touch me," I gasp. "I need—"
He slides one hand down my stomach, finds my clit. The moment his thumb makes contact, I cry out.
"Fuck! Konstantin!"
"That's it. Come for me. Show me how much you love riding my cock."
The combination of his cock inside me, his fingers on my clit, and his filthy words pushes me over the edge. I come with a scream, my pussy clamping down on him.
He thrusts up into me once, twice, and then he's coming too, groaning my name as he fills me.
We lie there for a long time, just holding each other. Eventually, I speak.
"Konstantin?"
"Mm?"
"I'm supposed to leave in three days."
His arms tighten. "I know."
"But I don't think I want to."
He rolls us over, propping himself up to look at me. "Then don't."
"It's not that easy."
"Why not?"
"Because this is insane. Because you kidnapped me. Because we barely know each other."
"And yet here you are. Saying you don't want to leave." He brushes my hair back from my face. "Stay with me, Jemma. After Christmas. Come back to Vancouver with me. Move into my penthouse."
"You can't just keep me."
"Watch me." He's serious. Completely serious. "I told you I'm keeping you. I meant it. You're mine now. And I take care of what's mine."
I should argue. Should tell him he's insane.
Instead, I pull him down for another kiss.
"Ask me again on Christmas," I whisper.
"I'll ask you every day until you say yes."
And looking into his eyes, I believe him.
This is insane.
But maybe insane is exactly what I need.