Chapter 20 Ivy
IVY
Nothing matters.
Not the grief in my heart. Not the anger in my mind. Not the stress tightening my muscles to the point of pain.
Nothing matters but Ruslan’s mouth crashing against mine as he shoves me up against the wall, pinning me there with his solid body while his hands roam up my sides and pull my shirt up at the same time.
He told me I asked for it, and I did.
I couldn’t stop myself.
He was talking and talking, standing there with the wind gently ruffling his hair and his face full of soft sympathy, like he was trying to connect with me. On some level, I wanted him to, but the more he talked, the more my thoughts drifted from words to action.
I need something.
I need to feel something other than this cavern inside me, and he’s the only one who can give it to me.
My heart lurches as our kiss breaks and my T-shirt’s dragged over my head and discarded somewhere on the bedroom floor. His hands return to my body, and a shiver rocks through me as his rough palms caress my ribs up to my bra.
Those hands have surely seen so much to be as rough as this, and it thrills me now they’re on my skin.
I try to grasp his neck and pull him back in for a kiss, but Ruslan catches my wrist and pins my arm to the wall above my head.
It’s so sudden that I arch off the wall into him so his other hand snakes around my waist. He pulls our hips flush together and I feel it.
The thick ridge between his legs.
His cock, hard after just a few kisses.
Excitement bubbles up through my chest and I grin just as he claims my mouth in another hard kiss. I cup his cheek with my free hand while his teeth sink into my lower lip, then we break apart and I’m left gasping against the wall.
Only for a second.
Ruslan’s arm around my waist anchors me to him when he steps away, and he lifts me up off the ground.
I squeal in alarm, clutching at his shoulders as I’m thrown through the air and onto his bed.
He crawls over the top of me and devours my mouth in a series of heated kisses broken only by the removal of his own t-shirt.
His body becomes my focus.
Miles of tightly packed muscle that flows and ripples as he moves over me and grinds his hips down.
I part my legs and loop them around his waist so that the next roll of his hips brings his hard, hidden cock down right against my pussy.
My core throbs and my heart jumps in excitement while heat gathers deep in my lower belly.
My fingertips roam his torso, locating scar after scar which brings rise to questions deep within the fog of lust in my mind.
What sort of life has he led that he’s covered in this many scars?
Short fat ones rise under my thumbs, long thin ones slide against my fingertips and a wide one near his hip almost distracts me fully from the kiss.
Almost.
He paws at my breasts with both hands, then grips my bra and pulls it taut. I gasp, breaking the kiss as he jerks my bra one way, then the other, then he huffs out a short, sharp laugh.
“Hate these things.”
“Hold on,” I gasp, giggling as I brace on one elbow. “Let me just…”
The clasp gives way under my fingertips and Ruslan tears my bra from my body, then he pauses and my heart punches into my throat.
Does he not like what he sees?
I’ve never thought about it until this moment, but the way he stares at my chest makes me nervous. Are my tits not nice enough? Is the lust making his cheeks pink and kisses ravenous not enough to distract him from that?
Just as my thoughts tumble into panic, Ruslan suddenly touches my abdomen just below my ribs and traces his fingers across the scar there from my surgery after the crash. I’d almost forgotten about it.
“Is it ugly?” I pant softly. “I’ve never had a scar.”
Ruslan smirks. “Me neither.”
I glance at his torso and laugh. “Sure.”
“It’s not ugly,” Ruslan says. “It’s… I’m sorry it’s even there.”
“Don’t be. Without it, I’d be dead.” A slightly morbid discussion while Ruslan’s hovering over me with a tent in his jeans and my panties are utterly drenched, but none of that bothers me. “Just as long as you like my tits.”
Ruslan laughs loudly then and my cheeks flare, shame creeping over me like a chill, but before I can decipher why, Ruslan’s kissing me again and both his hands paw at my bare breasts.
“There’s no such thing as ugly tits.” He grins against my lips. “But yours are beautiful, if you need that ego stroke.”
“It’s not ego!” I gasp, moaning as he catches my nipples between his knuckles and squeezes. “It’s… a regular concern.”
“Sure,” Ruslan purrs, and he prevents me from saying anything else by sliding his tongue into my mouth.
I moan and relax against him, my eyes closing while his tongue weaves and dances with my own, his hands paw and massage my breasts, and his hips roll down repeatedly against my own.
Fuck.
I need him.
This is nice, but I need more.
I need my brain to short-circuit and turn off. To be unable to comprehend anything but the raw physicality of his body, where no thoughts can breach the pleasure. I need to switch off.
“Please,” I gasp when Ruslan breaks the kiss and pants breathlessly against me. I cup his face and stroke the stubble along his jaw. “Please, fuck me so hard I can’t think.”
“What a request,” Ruslan purrs, his voice low and more like a vibration than anything else.
A request he grants.
I barely have a second to register what he’s doing before he’s between my legs and tearing my jeans from my thighs so fast that the denim burns against my skin.
My panties quickly follow and I open my mouth to speak, but all that comes out is a long, drawn-out moan as he shoves two fingers deep inside me.
The sudden intrusion shocks me, but a deep pulse of satisfaction sweeps through me as finally, I get what I want.
“Fuck,” Ruslan rumbles. “You’re so wet and I haven’t even done anything yet.”
“Me?” I gasp, bracing on one elbow. “I can see how hard you are from here and we haven’t—ahh!”
Two fingers become three with his thumb pressing firmly against my clit and words become a thing of the past. He pumps his fingers inside me so quickly that sensation becomes a blur.
With his thumb massaging my clit in circles, then back and forth, then forward and back and I can’t keep up.
I can’t keep track of what he’s doing and pleasure builds like a tight knot in my lower abdomen.
Heat wells, I tip my head back against the pillow and sink into the sheets with a cry.
I come all over his fingers half a second later but he doesn’t stop. His fingers continue to fuck into me at an erotically blinding speed and I’m caught between the tremors and spasms of my orgasm, and the twisting warmth rising already inside me.
It’s too much and not enough all at the same time.
“Wait—” I gasp, reaching down between my legs to grasp his wrist but he grips my arm and pins it above my head, leaning over me while his fingers continue to rapidly fuck me.
“If you’re going to tell me to stop,” Ruslan grunts, his eyes like liquid pools of ink. “Then you'd better mean it because I’m going to give you exactly what you asked for.”
I don’t want him to stop and it’s clear that he’s not going to let me catch my breath.
“Don’t stop,” I gasp, my voice trembling from the rapid surge of pleasure inside me. “D-Don’t stop!”
“I don’t plan to.” His mouth collides with mine and he moves over me until he’s beside me on the bed, able to kiss me more easily while his fingers work magic between my legs.
My second orgasm crashes through me so quickly that my entire body feels like it’s on fire, flames spreading from my core to all my limbs until my fingers and toes tingle with sensation. I fight to catch my breath, but he doesn’t give me a moment to do even that.
Ruslan flips me onto my stomach, pulls my hips up until I’m on my knees, and then thrusts his cock inside me without a word of warning.
I don’t even remember him removing his jeans.
His thick, long length spears deeper into me than his fingers could ever reach, and the warmth of the stretch combined with the sudden weight inside me draws a long, breathless moan from the depths of my chest. I claw at the sheets, turning my head to the side so I can breathe.
Then I try to push myself up onto my hands.
Ruslan places his palm between my shoulder blades and keeps me down, my back bent and my hips high in the air.
Then he starts to fuck me. And he doesn’t stop. His hips move like a piston, pounding into me with speed and power I could only dream of. He fucks like a man possessed, like every slam of his hips against mine is leaving some kind of message against me. A promise to fuck me hard, to fuck me good.
I’m drunk on him. My mouth hangs open for air, the heat of lust burns me from the inside as sweat breaks out across my skin, and my core tightens like the curl of a fist. I’m too sensitive after two orgasms, but Ruslan’s fucked me right toward a third and I can barely process how quickly my body is adapting to his touches.
His free hand caresses my lower back, down to my hips and across my ass, then back up to my waist like he’s mapping out my body and storing it in his mind.
The room fills with the sharp slap of skin against skin and the slick sounds of his cock slamming into my pussy.
The backs of my thighs tingle from each collision with his own, and from this angle, his cock brushes deep on that bundle of nerves inside me that brings stars to my eyes.
I can’t.
It’s too much.
I’m burning up from the inside and my core’s clenching so hard that it’s teetering on painful. I don’t have another orgasm in me so soon.
But Ruslan finds it. Eventually, both his hands move to my hips and he grips on, jerking me back into his rampant thrusts that grow faster and faster. My eyes roll, my body burns up under his touch and my pussy clenches hard around his pounding cock.
I come with a strangled cry, clawing at his sheets and throwing my head back as if it will help.
The pleasure is overwhelming. My pussy pulses rapidly as wave after wave of pleasure consumes me, caressing me from head to toe in tingles and ripples of utter ecstasy.
His cock slows a fraction, and his iron grip on my hips becomes almost like the caress of a lover.
As I’m twitching and moaning from my orgasm, Ruslan drapes himself over me like a blanket and I moan as the heat from his body is almost smothering.
“Ivy?”
“Mmm?” I grunt.
“Tell me how you feel.”
“So… so good,” I gasp as my pussy clamps down on his cock once more.
“Hmm. You can still talk. Do you know what that means?”
I slowly open my eyes. “No?”
“It means I didn’t fuck you hard enough.”
We spend the rest of the night together.
Ruslan doesn’t stop, and I don’t ask him to.
After he fucks me from behind, he flips me over and slides between my legs, fucking me face to face with a light hand around my throat and an order to maintain eye contact so he can see what I look like when I come.
His own orgasms are lost in the sea of the ones he gives me and after each one, he asks me the same question and I force myself to speak.
The more I talk, the harder he fucks me.
On the bed. On the floor. Against the wall when my limbs are like jelly and every breath that tears out of me is laced with a moan.
The only respite my pussy gets is when he moves me on the bed until my head hangs off the edge and he slides that thick cock between my lips.
My mind goes blank and my body soars when he fucks my throat until I can’t breathe, when he holds himself buried deep until I choke, and when he finally spills his load in my mouth, I finally have no words.
No words.
No thoughts.
I’m completely at peace, exhausted and pliant.
Ruslan ends up between my legs again, soothing my throbbing pussy with gentle, slow laps of his tongue and kisses to my clit.
Every touch is overwhelming, given my sensitivity, but he soothes me gently, offers me water and a few squares of chocolate, and then I fall fast asleep in his arms without even meaning to.
It’s the first peaceful night of sleep I’ve had since the plane crash.
I sleep like I’m dead and wake the next morning to sunlight trickling through the slats in his blinds. Opening my eyes, a warm blue sky greets me as a few fluffy white clouds lazily drift past. I’m on my side with Ruslan at my back, his arm across my waist.
I slept and I didn’t dream. No nightmares. No terrors. Nothing.
Just hours and hours of peaceful rest.
Was it the sex? Or Ruslan?
Moving sends a jolt of aching pain through my core and my thighs, but it’s a good pain. Like a muscle ache the day after a workout at the gym. I move my legs again to soak up the sensation, then freeze as Ruslan’s arm tightens around my waist.
This… is romantic. This is sweet.
Cuddling? That’s not sex. That’s feeling.
My mouth runs dry. I want to roll over and look at him, but moving risks waking up and selfishly, I want to enjoy this for as long as I can.
Just as I finish that thought, buzzing rises up from behind me and Ruslan grunts softly. The buzzing continues and his grunts become clearer, then his arm vanishes from my waist and his heat fades from my back.
“What?” Ruslan grunts, his voice thick with sleep.
A subtle hum of another voice catches my attention. He must be talking on the phone. I remain still and close my eyes, pretending to be asleep so I can soak up this moment just a little longer.
His phone clatters on the bedside table and he groans, then the bed dips as he moves. His hand lands gently on my shoulder and he shakes me carefully.
“Ivy?”
I pretend to wake up slowly, groaning and yawning. “Mm? Oh, morning.”
“Morning. We have to get up.”
“Has something happened?” Worry is like an adrenaline shot to the heart as all peace gained from last night vanishes.
“I just got a call from Valentina. She’s found something.”
“Found what?”
Ruslan leans over the edge of the bed and grabs his boxers from the floor. “She thinks the woman your father was seeing is the ex-fiancée of someone dangerous. Someone we know.”