Chapter 35
Alina
Ipress myself up against Seamus’s side. His breathing is steady and slow. “I can’t sleep,” I whisper, so quiet that it won’t wake him if he’s already out. He stirs slightly, shifting his body toward mine and drawing me closer.
“Close your eyes, princess.”
“I don’t want to. I’m afraid I might dream.”
“Bad dreams?”
“Nightmares.”
“We can’t have that.” He turns toward me and his lips press against mine gently. “We’ll have to replace those bad thoughts with good ones.”
I don’t know if that’s possible. My head’s been running in circles since I found out Molchanie is definitely my mother. But the more I think about what she’s been doing, the more repulsed I feel.
How did I come from a woman like that?
And is there a part of me that’s just like she is?
Broken in some unimaginable way.
Seamus’s hands stroke down my side. “Hey. Hey. You’re here with me.”
I stare up at him and only just realize there are tears in my eyes. “She sent you a hand, Seamus.”
“I know, baby.”
“My mother did that.”
“None of this is your fault.”
I tilt my chin up and kiss him. I know he’s right, but I keep wondering. If I hadn’t married him, would she have done any of this? Would Alex still be alive? Would those Whelan clan members still be around?
His hands explore me. He touches my skin like he has to feel every inch.
I pull my shirt off and straddle him, pushing my hips down as he starts to get hard under me.
I kiss him fiercely, wanting to drown out the bad thoughts.
I’m thinking maybe, if I’m lucky, Seamus is enough to quiet all the pain, at least for a little while.
His mouth kisses my neck, my collarbone. He sits up, kissing my chest, my breasts, hands gripping my ass. I grind into him. I love how hard he gets. I love the hammering in his chest, the way his heart races when we’re touching, and I focus on that.
“Here with me,” he whispers, biting my nipple and licking it. A little pleasure, a little pain. That’s my husband. “Right here with me.”
It feels different this time. Normally, sex with him is frenzied and intense. But tonight, he’s exploring me. He’s going slow and taking his time. He strokes between my legs, but only teasing. Not pushing, not rushing.
I let myself sink into him. The soft rhythm. The breathing. My gentle moans. His fingers between my legs going faster, gliding up and down my slit. I’m soaking wet and eager to strip, but I let him take control.
“Every inch of you is perfect,” he murmurs in my ear. “I love the way you feel in my hands. The way you move on me. The noises you make. Everything about you.”
I bury my mouth against his, needing more.
He senses my desire and turns me, pinning me down on the bed, my breasts spilling to either side.
He licks a nipple as he peels off my panties.
I moan when he goes lower, mouth kissing, nibbling, biting, sucking, until he reaches my aching core.
His tongue laps up and down, the tip stiffening to spread my folds.
He spends a few minutes licking and sucking my clit, driving me wild, my back arching.
I keep saying his name, wanting more, wanting to erase everything else from my mind until there’s only him.
Only my husband, Seamus.
He spits into his palm, strokes himself, and glides along my entrance.
I’m panting, groaning, wiggling my hips.
He strokes in deep until I’m filled to the brim, and he stays there for an agonizing minute as he kisses me and whispers in my ear, praising me, telling me how good I am, how strong I am, how much he needs me.
Then he’s fucking me. Deep, hard thrusts.
Not hammering, not vicious, but like he needs to feel every inch of my pussy.
I dig my fingers into his back and kiss him, whimpering his name as pleasure builds in my core, glowing so bright it’s like I might spill over with it, like if I open my eyes and my mouth, light will shine out.
He pins my hands above my head and fucks me. Our rhythm builds. I’m grinding against him, begging him for more. “You have all of me now, Alina, every fucking inch of me.” And I don’t think he means just his big cock or his strong body. I think he means much more than that.
“You have me too,” I moan, overwhelmed by how badly I want him and how much this means to me. “You have me, Seamus, you have me, god, yes, you have me.”
“That’s right, princess. You’re all fucking mine. All of you is mine.”
We’re fucking now, rough and deep and perfect.
Sweat shimmers on my skin. I’m dancing on the edge and my head is totally empty except for him.
There’s only room for Seamus now. I cry out his name and he whispers mine, those three syllables filled with dripping, desperate need.
Ah-lee-nah. Over and over. Ah-lee-nah. Ah-lee-nah.
Again and again, driving deeper and deeper, until he bites my lower lip and begs me to come for him, and that finally throws me over the edge.
I shatter. God, I break. I come so hard I’m seeing stars. He stiffens between my legs and keeps going, stroking as we finish together, and by the time he’s done with me, I’m a mess of floating, happy bliss, grinning like I’ve never had a bad thought in my entire life.
He pulls me into his arms. I stay there, even though I should use the bathroom. I don’t want to move. This feels too good.
It doesn’t last.
I try not to let the bad thoughts slip back in. But as soon as I acknowledge they’re lurking at the gates of my mind, they flood through all over again, and my perfect mood darkens.
He must notice. He kisses my neck. “That wasn’t enough? You need more, princess?”
“No, that’s not it.”
“Give me a few minutes.” He palms one breast and lightly teases a nipple. “Actually, more like a few seconds.”
I twist around to face him. I know he’s joking—mostly, anyway, since his dick is actually half hard already, the freaking monster—but it’s not enough.
“Why did she come back?” I whisper, feeling every word of that sentence like a hammer to my skull.
He sighs and strokes my hair. “I wish she hadn’t. It would’ve been better if she had just stayed away.”
“When I was little, I used to dream about having a relationship with my mother. I had all these complicated fantasies and stories in my head. And now she’s here, and it’s not like any of those at all. It’s so much worse.”
“That’s the problem. Reality almost never lives up to our dreams.” He pushes back a stray piece of my hair. “But she doesn’t have to hurt you.”
“What do you mean? She’s hurting everyone else.”
“I know, but that woman, she’s not really your mother.” He kisses me softly. “She gave birth to you, but that doesn’t give her a right to be in your life, not anymore. Your mother died the second she left you.”
I know he’s right. But that doesn’t make it better. “I’m afraid I’m like her. Like I inherited some psycho gene and one day I’ll wake up to find myself covered in blood.”
“If that happens, I’ll be right there with you.”
“Not if it’s your blood.”
“Don’t tease me. I’m already getting excited again.”
“Stop it, I’m being serious.”
“Whatever happened to your mother, she didn’t end up the way she is now because of genetics.”
“That happens though, right? I mean, some people are just sick.”
He sighs and lies on his back. I put my head on his chest, letting the steady beat of his heart keep me centered.
“That’s true, but you have a choice. You always have a choice. Your mother might be predisposed to being crazy, but she changed herself into what she is now.”
“I’m afraid I’ll do the same thing.”
“You won’t. You have me. And your mother definitely was already well on her way down that path by the time she was your age.”
I sigh and close my eyes. I think he’s right about that. She must’ve been training since she was relatively young, while I’ve never wanted to kill anything in my life. Except for my brother when he was being a dick back when we were kids.
“I just wish I could’ve had a relationship with her. You always say family is important, right?”
He strokes my hair gently. “Family is the people who are there for you. That woman isn’t family. I understand you wish it could’ve been different, but it wasn’t. You can’t forget that.”
“I know. You’re right.”
“We can make something better, you and me. We can build our own family, if you want to.” He seems almost hesitant as he says it.
“I never thought much about being a father before we met. Kids are weights. They keep you in one place, and I was always on the move. I drifted along on the winds like life is an ocean and I was nothing more than a sailboat set adrift. But now you’re here, and I find myself… steady. For the first time.”
I kiss his chest lightly. “Do you like that?”
“I think I do.”
“You’re not sure?”
“I’m sure that I like this.” He runs a hand down my back and I shiver. “I’m sure that I want to make more with you.”
“Like kids?”
“A family of our own.”
I try to picture it. Seamus and I and a few little ones. Plus, his family, and my family, and whoever else we decide to pull into our life, like Kira.
And I like the thought.
“I’d like that,” I whisper, holding him tighter. “I’d really like that.”
“Good. Close your eyes. Try to imagine our kids. What are their names?”
I stay still for a little while not saying anything, but in my head the dreamy image of a little girl and a little boy forms in the space right before falling asleep, and I whisper names to him, or maybe I’m saying them to myself, I’m not really sure, and it doesn’t matter.