Chapter Twenty-Three
Niamh
I didn’t need Ivan to tell me how to be nice. Even though I’d not experienced a lot of “nice” growing up, I hadn’t lost the ability to be nice myself. Rather than allow Peter and I to drift apart, I decided to do something different. I decided to become his wife.
It sounded strange, but it wasn’t. What this entailed was simple. First, I made sure I was awake before him, and I set the coffeepot on, cooked breakfast, and also prepared his lunch. I took care of his laundry, cleaned the penthouse, and did some shopping with my guards. With his birthday three weeks away, I wanted to start preparations now.
I didn’t have a clue what to get him as a birthday present, so I’d decided to buy him a wedding ring. Yes, I knew it was corny, but that’s what I decided. A wedding ring, because he didn’t have one, whereas I did.
In a weird way, I was hoping he would get the messag e— that I was here to stay. I was not going to step away from our marriage. If Peter didn’t want to be set free, then I wasn’t going to allow him to be. In my head, it sounded romantic, but on paper, it kind of made me feel like a bitch.
I did love Peter. I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him.
After Ivan had left, I couldn’t help but think back to that moment when he chased after the car to protect me, to save me. I didn’t know if he acted like that because he was doing his job, or if it was because he did in fact have feelings for me. I wasn’t sure, but I wasn’t going to dwell on it either. I’d made my decision and this time, I was sticking to it.
My leg had also started to heal, and it had been a few weeks since my tattoo. The scab was almost gone. The right treatment had meant for an easier healing process, at least that’s what I liked to tell myself.
So, one evening I’d made seared steaks and potatoes, and I met him at the door. My guards, like always, left, and I helped take Peter’s jacket.
Each night, he’d grab me around the waist, pull me in close, and kiss me. We hadn’t had sex since the last time, and not with the ink on my leg, that was proving to be a bit of a pain. Now that it was all healed, the last few weeks had been a lot of fun. I’d played the role of wife, but it didn’t feel like I was playing. It felt right.
He wrapped those large arms around me, pulled me close, and took possession of my lips. That butterfly flutter in my stomach came back to life, and I closed my eyes, loving the feeling and not wanting it to go away. I loved him and I was done fighting it. I wasn’t going to leave him. That was my choice.
Ivan and the Volkov could have everything that was Byrne. I’d never been a Byrne, it was just my last name because my father had insisted on it. All his kids had to have his last name. I guess it was the only decent thing my father had done.
Peter pulled away from me and I couldn’t help but lick my lips. “I, uh, I made dinner for you.”
I took his hand and led him away, going toward the dining room, where I had already set the table.
“If you’d like to sit and pour yourself something, I’ll be back with the food.” I turned to leave.
“Do you want me to pour you a glass?” he asked.
“No, I learned my lesson. Me and alcohol are done.” I had promised myself I was never going to end up like my mom and I was sticking to that promise.
I went back to the kitchen, grabbed the oven mitts, took out the two prepared plates, and then I carried them to the table. I placed one in front of Peter, and then I put mine down in my place. I rushed back to the kitchen, took off my mitts, turned off the oven, and returned to the dining room.
Peter had poured me a glass of water, and I picked it up, offering him a smile as I took a large sip. He’d poured himself a glass of whiskey, and trust me, I wasn’t even tempted.
I didn’t get to lose myself in drink. No, what I got was to be embarrassed and the memory of having no control. I had no idea what to say to Peter. I waited as he picked up his knife and fork, cut through the steak, and took a bite.
He closed his eyes, and when he opened them, he offered me a smile. “Delicious.”
“Good. How was your day?” Now I could eat. If he’d not been happy with the food, I wouldn’t have minded going and doing something extra. That was what a wife did, right?
“Eventful. Slavik and the others have returned to their territory.”
“Yes, their wives did call me, and they left numbers for me to contact them. How does that work?” I asked.
“Simple, you want to talk to someone, you call them. They’re your friends now.”
“But I barely know them.”
“I guess that’s what talking is all about.”
“Are you and Ivan friends?” I asked.
“Yes.”
There was a slight hesitation.
“How do you and Ivan know each other?” Peter asked.
I knew I shouldn’t ask questions. I was not going to divulge Ivan’s secret. It was not mine to tell. This was not me being more loyal to Ivan than my husband. This was me being a friend. Ivan was my friend. I frowned and sat back.
“What?” Peter asked.
“Do you ever have those moments of revelation when you suddenly realize something?”
“Yes.”
“Well, I had one.”
“Care to share?”
“Ivan’s my friend,” I said.
Peter looked at me.
“I know, it’s crazy. I, uh, I helped him years ago. I was a stranger to him, and I just wanted to make him feel better, I guess.” I shrugged. I did so without knowing who he was, and yet Ivan had never forgotten about me. I’d not forgotten about him, and I’d hoped he found peace, love, and happiness. I now knew he didn’t have any of those things, but he had gotten a family.
“Ivan’s a hard man to be friends with.”
“I understand that, but … he is my friend. I want to look out for him. Help him. He helped me, and so did you,” I said.
“I was just doing my job.”
“Were you?” I asked. “Would it hurt if I were to let you go?”
This was not what I wanted to talk about. This wasn’t supposed to be about the future. I’d made the choice to stay. I loved Peter enough for both of us.
Peter put down his knife and fork, and he pushed out his chair. I felt my heart breaking just a little, but then he stopped and cupped my cheek. He tilted my head back and stared into my eyes.
“You’re not leaving,” he said.
It didn’t quite answer my question and I was about to tell him that, when his lips crashed against mine and silenced all manner of protest.
He felt so good, and this was what I loved. His kisses, his touches, his attention. I felt greedy because I wanted it all, without compromise. Did that make me selfish? Probably.
I didn’t know how we managed it, but we left the table and kissed our way into the bedroom. He reached down, grabbed my knee, and lifted it over his hip. Peter broke the kiss, and he pushed the dress I was wearing up toward my hips.
“Tell me, does this still hurt?” He pointed toward my ink and I shook my head.
“No.”
“Good.” He slid his hand up and then grabbed my ass. “Fuck, I have missed this.” He broke the kiss and began to nuzzle my neck, sucking at the pulse. His tongue danced across the column of my neck, and I closed my eyes.
His hands felt everywhere, but in a good way. I didn’t want him to stop. He felt so good.
Peter removed the dress from my body, and then tore at my panties and bra. Before too long, I was naked, and he was still fully dressed. I couldn’t stop him, though, as he pushed me to the bed, and within seconds his mouth was between my thighs. His tongue stroked my clit, and then sunk down, pushed inside me, and made me ache for him.
He drew back and flicked my clit, gliding back and forth, before sucking my nub between his teeth.
It had been too long since I had last felt him, and I couldn’t hold back. I screamed his name as he teased my clit, back and forth, around in a circle. Each stroke designed to send me higher and higher, until he pushed me right across the peak, hurtling me toward that very edge.
I came hard, screaming his name, not wanting it to end.
****
Peter
I loved the taste of Niamh’s cunt. So ripe and juicy, and I also loved the fact that she belonged to me. She was all mine.
No other man had touched her. I was the only one she had desired.
I didn’t want her to fucking leave. I couldn’t stand the thought of it. She belonged to me.
Fucking Ivan and his meddling ways. In that moment, I hated him, but I pushed all those thoughts to the side because those thoughts didn’t have a place when I was making love and fucking my wife. Niamh was mine. All mine. I wasn’t going to let her go easily.
She would not be able to leave if she was carrying my child.
I’d already removed my shirt, and my pants were easy, as well as the boxer briefs I wore. All of them were gone from my body within a matter of seconds, and on the floor. I wanted to lick her cunt and hear my name spill from those precious lips, but I didn’t have the patience to wait. I needed to be inside her, and the sooner the better. She was driving me crazy with need, and I just couldn’t stop it. I had to have her.
Moving her up the bed, I marveled at her full, ripe tits. In the past few weeks, she’d gained back some of the weight she had lost, and she looked amazing. I didn’t want her starving herself.
I settled between her spread thighs, gripped my cock, and ran the tip through her wet slit. She cried out as I nudged her sensitive clit. I stroked over it a few times, and then dipped down, seeking out her entrance and finding her so wet, she turned me on even more.
Slowly, inch by inch, I began to sink inside her, and as I did, I took my sweet time. I wanted this moment to last, but I also loved the feel of her cunt as it swallowed my cock. Sucking me inside her as if she couldn’t help but feed on me. When she’d taken all but a few inches, I let go of my dick, took hold of her hands, and pressed them either side of her head, keeping them locked into place.
On that last inch, I slammed balls-deep inside her, loving the sound of her subtle moan. Drawing all the way out of her, I thrust back inside, not allowing her to become accustomed to the feel of my dick, but making her take it all.
My name was like a mantra on her lips. She couldn’t seem to help herself.
Niamh thrust up to meet me, and I stared into her eyes as I slowed down, making love to her. It was then I realized there was no other place I wanted to be. Yes, this had started as a job. I followed Ivan’s orders because I was loyal to him. He’d saved me, and I knew he’d also saved Niamh. I had a feeling all the men that were loyal to him had been saved by him, or by his actions.
Despite all of that, I wasn’t doing this because of Ivan’s orders. I was here because I wanted to be here. I was balls-deep inside my wife because I wanted to be. This was not a duty, it was not a loyalty, this was me.
Driving inside her, I felt the first stirrings of my orgasm, and I tried to control myself, but Niamh’s pussy was just too good, and I came, spilling my cum deep inside her womb. Even after my orgasm subsided, I didn’t pull away. The temptation to hold her and give her all my body weight was strong, but I held back and just looked down at her.
She had this soft smile on her face. “I was hoping this is what dinner would lead to.”
“Your leg is all but healed, I don’t see a reason to hold back.” I dropped a kiss on her nose and then took possession of her lips. I kissed her hard, and heard her soft intake of breath.
“We didn’t finish dinner.”
“I can eat dinner cold,” I said.
She giggled.
I knew she and Ivan had their secret. There was more about their first meeting than she let on, but I also had a feeling this was Ivan’s secret, not my wife’s. I wasn’t angry with her that she didn’t share it with me. In fact, I was glad she didn’t.
After all she had been through, Niamh was strong. She refused to give away Ivan’s secrets, and that meant she held a loyalty within her, one that Ivan could respect. All the men and women of the Volkov Bratva had to be loyal. Ivan was king. And to me, Niamh had proven herself.
Kissing her again, I felt my cock start to fill as arousal took over. I heard her moan and felt the answering pulse of her cunt as she tightened around my cock.
I wanted to get her pregnant.
Pulling out of her, I moved her to her knees, getting her into position, and then I drove deep inside her. From this angle, I knew I was going to get as deep as possible, and I wanted to drive her crazy. Reaching between her thighs, I began to stroke her clit, feeling her cunt tighten around me. She was so sensitive that every little touch set her aflame, which was exactly what I wanted.
“Are you close?” I asked.
“I don’t think I can come…” She didn’t finish, because I changed the angle but didn’t stop touching her clit, and where she didn’t think she could finish, I showed her she very much could.
I loved the sounds she made and this time, I drew every bit of pleasure from her, hearing my name fall from her lips.
When she couldn’t take any more of my teasing, I stopped, grabbed her hips, and then pounded inside her pussy, driving my cock in harder and deeper, and this time, as I came, I pushed every inch of my cock inside her, and spilled wave upon wave of my cum into her cunt.
I wanted her pregnant.
I wanted to fill her up.
I wanted her to belong to me completely.