33. Sandrine
Sandrine
With Violet occupied, Kirill and I sneak away to my bedroom. Up against my closed door, he slides his tongue past the seam of my lips.
“Open for me,” he demands. “God, I missed you. I’ve wanted you like this for so long.”
I break the kiss. “You pushed me away this past week.”
“I worried I overstepped in my office before you were ready.”
“And now you think I am?”
“I can feel it.” He rubs against me.
“I want to remember us so much, Kirill,” I whisper.
“Let’s make new memories.” He kisses the edge of my mouth. “I’ve had to bury much of what I remembered and loved about our sex life to survive these years without you.”
That breaks my heart.
Kirill’s breath fans my neck. “Feel that? Feel how much I want to start making those memories?”
I feel ready to pass out. Which would probably alarm him, and I’ll end up back at Norridge.
“Honestly, you make me so lightheaded.” I struggle to breathe.
“Buckle up. I plan to take my time and make sure you see stars.” He holds my face in his hands and kisses me.
His tongue swirls around in my mouth while he rubs against me. Shivers run down my spine, and my nipples tighten.
Tonight we’re crossing a line. Returning to the people we should have been all along, but swore we’d never be again. Will I still like him? Will I still like me, giving myself to a man I’ve only known technically for a few weeks?
A man who admitted to killing his father?
But it feels so right. My body remembers him. Remembers us.
He keeps kissing me, and all other thoughts fly from my head. God, this man knows how to kiss. Our tongues dance in a rhythm that anchors deep inside me.
I swear, I remember him now. The old me is kissing him back.
“Christ,” Kirill murmurs against my mouth. “Take off my shirt.”
I start to slowly undo the buttons, deftly popping each one free. A carved V disappears into his pants. Oh my God, am I ready for this?
With the shirt open and then gone, I step back to admire his smooth torso, round pecs, defined abs, and lots and lots of tattoos. But also, the scars on his back and shoulders. I kiss each one, my hands not leaving his skin.
“Fuck, yeah, kiss my chest.” He takes my hand and rests it over his zipper. “Feel me. I’ve not stopped thinking about that blow job. I’ve wanted to come to your room every night and show you what you still do to me.”
“I wish you would have,” I admit. “I’m ready, Kirill. To be your real wife. If this is the life you still want us to have.”
“Fuck, I want that so much.” He keeps his eyes fixed on mine.
“Good, because I can’t wait.” I slide down the zipper of his trousers and touch him.
“Yeah, Sandrine, rub my cock.”
The length of him bulges at an angle, and it’s a challenge to get my hand around it.
Feeling brave, I step back and lift my dress over my head, taking my bra with it. And now I’m standing in front of Kirill with just a very narrow set of panties.
“Christ, you’re beautiful,” he says, rolling one of my nipples between two fingers.
His tongue swirls around the nub until he moves to the other breast. I close my eyes, feeling nervous. I don’t want him to stop. I have to get over my shyness. We’ve done this before.
“Are you wet for me?” he rasps. “Are you wet for your pakhan?”
“Yes.”
“Good.” He steps back to shuck his pants.
When he removes his pants and lowers his briefs, he fists his cock. Wetness beads on the tip, a pearly drop sliding down the shaft. His cock is huge and thick. It hangs heavy and dangerous between his legs.
“Will that fit?” I ask without thinking.
He laughs. “Not only did I fit so perfectly inside your cunt, but you also fit my kid through it.”
“What if I’m not tight enough anymore?” I recall him saying we never had sex again after I gave birth.
He narrows his eyes on me. “Have you been using a giant toy to pleasure yourself this whole time?”
I swat him. “No.”
“So a small one?” He smirks.
“Nothing,” I annunciate.
“It’s okay if you did. So long as no other man touched you. It’s been a long time, Sandrine.”
“It’s been the same for you.”
“I’ve kept myself satisfied.”
I consider asking who he thought of, but that’s not fair. Instead, I inhale nervously as I drink him in. Kirill is the most beautiful man I’ve ever laid eyes on, with a body for sin.
“What about the rest of me?” I stroke my stomach. “I woke up with these thin white slivers but never knew what they were from.”
His fingertips dust over my stomach. “Those are stretch marks. They’re from birthing my daughter.”
“And you’re not grossed out? You’re freaking perfect, Kirill.”
“You think these marks make you less beautiful?” He drops to his knees and kisses the marks I’m suddenly desperate to hide. “Look at me, Sandrine.”
When I do, his expression is almost offended.
“Don’t ever be ashamed of these.” His hand spreads possessively across my waist. “These scars are from carrying my child.” He kisses one of them. “You gave me Violet.”
I swallow, shaking my head, not knowing what to feel.
“Gave us Violet.” His gaze darkens. “If anything, they make me want you more.”
“You’re not real, are you?”
“I’m very real, and you’re about to find out how real I am,” he whispers and kisses each scar again. “Enough talking.”
Kissing me, Kirill lifts me up and brings me to the bed. He drops me into the unmade sea of blankets. Naked, he crawls over me.
“I’ll try to be gentle,” he growls and swipes his fingers through my folds. “So fucking wet for me.”
“Oh, God.” I arch my back and lift my hips.
“You might be right.” Two fingers slide deep inside me. “I may not fit.”
I lift my head up. “What?”
“Spread your legs wider. I’m gonna make it fit.” His pumping fingers are punctuated with the sound of my very wet arousal.
“Kirill, I feel like… I’m gonna come.”
“Come for me, baby.” He pumps me faster, his thumb circling my clit.
When his tongue joins in, I cry out as I come hard. My hips pivot up and down on the bed, absorbing the shock of pleasure.
“God, yes.” He sits back and fists his cock. “Sandrine, I want to fuck you bare.”
“I’m not on birth control.” I rear up, unsure if I should or even can deny him.
“I can work around that.” He fists himself up and down. “I want us to start talking about having more children soon. I need a son.”
A part of me resents that, but it’s quickly squashed when I realize I lost all my memories of being pregnant with Violet. Of seeing Kirill change from dangerous gangster 24/7 to being a loving father. Watching him watch me grow with his child.
“One year,” I whisper. “Let me have you and Violet for one year. I missed the last five.”
“One year, moya zhena.” He smiles wickedly, pushing the head of his cock to kiss my entrance. “Fuck, that’s wet.”
“I want you inside me, Kirill.”
He slides his cock up and down my slit, and uses the head to massage my clit. “Are you sure you’re ready for me?”
“Please.” I can come so easily from this friction.
“Ah, begging. That gets me even harder.” Holding his cock, he enters me in one brutal thrust.
Eyes flickering, he mutters, “Christ, Sandrine.” He widens his knees and grips my hips. “Hold on.”
He starts a rhythm that slowly drives me crazy. His head thrown back and mouth open, he angles his cock to hit me in a place that makes me go insane.
“I fucking forgot how good you feel.” He slows down, sliding all the way out, and then back in. Deep. “Take my cock. Take it.”
I meet him thrust for thrust. And when my womb contracts, he keeps pumping, extending my pleasure while holding off his orgasm.
“God, that’s so good. Feeling you come around my cock.” He breathes heavily in between moans. “Fuck.”
He pulls out, but slides the base against my wetness. An eruption of pearly cum spills over the head and down his hand. There’s so much.
I’ve heard women talk about men who are supposed to last for hours. Maybe with condoms. But Kirill went feral being inside me. I love that he fell apart for me. That he let go.
Next, he’s kissing me. “Give me a minute.”
“You don’t have to leave.”
He lifts his head. “Leave where? It’s my house.”
Later I’ll address the his house comment even though I know it’s been in his family for decades. “What do you need a minute for?”
“To get hard again.” He stands up naked, looking like a god. A hard Russian one. “Come on. I want to fuck you again in my bed next.”
After quickly dressing, we sneak down the hall like teenagers. I was one when I fell for him. Maybe I made him recapture a reckless youth.
With no sign of Violet and exactly twenty minutes until dinner, Kirill strips me of my clothes again, licks me to a fever pitch, slides on a condom, and goes wild on me.
With a powerful thrust, fire heats up in my veins. Pleasure shoots through every inch of me. How can one man make me feel that good?
You might have been a sex kitten.
I think Elodie was right. Meow. No… Roar!
I had to be some kind of vixen in bed in order to satisfy a man this feral. God, it’s embarrassing how I’m loving this. But with his mouth on my breasts and his cock buried deep inside me, I don’t care.
Kirill’s hand moves down my hip, and a finger starts circling my clit. He releases a dangerously sexy groan before I do.
“Sandrine, you feel so fucking good.”
For a second I struggle to remember that’s my name. My pussy throbs, the walls squeezing his rock-hard length.
Shivers race up and down my spine, and I feel him contract. His length is iron strong, pumping me through his climax.
He finishes, sounding even more out of breath than the first time, and rolls onto his back. “I might not survive you this time.”
Back at ya…
When my eyesight returns, I glance around the room I hadn’t been in until now.
“Will I move in here with you?” I clear my throat. “Eventually?”
“I want you to.” He twists to face me and strokes my cheek. “This was my bedroom before I moved out. I don’t want the master bedroom where my father fucked whores. Now that he’s gone, I want to demolish it.”
“What type of marriage are we supposed to have this time?” I close my eyes and love the hard edges of his fingers on my skin. “I’ve figured out how this world works again. Rich powerful men often sleep in separate bedrooms.”
“That’s because they have mistresses,” he says bitterly.
“Oh.”
He leans in and kisses me. “The plan was we’d move in here together. You and me in this room. Violet down the hall. Our sons in the other bedrooms.”
I get chills listening to a future that was so clear to him, and it pains me that it was ripped away. My life was ripped away from me, too. But I didn’t know what I was leaving behind.