48. Ofelia
Ofelia
It’s late afternoon, and I’m sitting alone on the terrace, staring at the glittering sea and savoring a rare moment of peace.
Darya and Masha have gone shopping, though given that Masha loathes shopping unless it’s directly flamenco related, and after the tense wedding discussion with Darya this morning, I suspect my stepmother is diplomatically giving me some space.
Either way I’m grateful.
I’m halfway through a very large gin and tonic, doing my best to think about nothing at all, when I hear a car door slam in the forecourt.
Damn it.
I instantly feel guilty. I should be grateful for the support and love of friends and family, rather than resentful. But lately all I can think about are the peaceful weeks aboard the Quantum Drift, when it was just Alexei, me, and an endless horizon.
I’m not blind to the irony of longing for the peace of the yacht after watching Lars’s blow sky-high. But long for it I do—not least because the sea is generally an extremely effective deterrent to well-meaning guests.
A hint of dusky leather mingles with the rich, floral coastal air, and my heart stops.
“Day drinking in secret now, angel?”
I can’t quite manage to move.
“Although I have to say I’m already ahead of you.” One scarred hand slides over my belly, and Alexei’s lips press into the curve of my neck.
My heart lurches back into rapid, uneven life.
“I stopped at the hospital to see Lars and took Benny for a drink before I came here.”
I close my eyes as his mouth lingers on my skin, one of my arms stealing up to twine about his neck, not least to reassure myself that he’s really here.
“I made myself go there first.” His hand roams up my belly to cover my breast, and I gasp. “I knew there was no chance I’d be able to go anywhere once I saw you.”
I rise from the chair, barely trusting my legs to hold me, and turn slowly around. The late-afternoon sun falls full on his face, making his scars gleam and his lone eye blaze like blue fire.
“Papa told Darya everything went well in Miami.” I touch his face, surprised I can speak at all. “But I’m not sure I truly believed it until right now.”
“I know.” He nods. “That’s why I got straight on a plane, instead of calling. I knew nothing would feel real until I could do this.” He tilts my face up to his and lowers his mouth to mine.
It’s sweet at first, almost still, and I stand on tiptoe, craving more. Then his hands slide into my chignon and he slants his mouth down, groaning. I arch toward him, opening beneath his kiss, allowing it to steal into my soul and tell me everything I need to know.
His grief and fury when he left.
The savagery and tension of the past days.
The sudden exhilaration of success.
The fierce, incessant longing for this.
I can read it all in his mouth on mine, in the silent, profound communication we’ve always shared, where touch speaks louder than any words ever could.
By the time he stops kissing me I’m sitting on the low stone wall, the ocean behind me, my legs wrapped around his waist and my sundress rucked up over my thighs.
“I need you.”
“We can’t stay out here,” I manage. “People will come.”
“Then tell me where your room is.” He slides my hand down to the rock-hard evidence of his arousal, and I gasp. Gathering me against him, Alexei plucks me off the wall and heads for the villa.
“That way.” I point, my lips touching his throat, and he groans as he kicks the door open.
He pauses only to ensure it’s locked before he spins me around, holding me against the wall. He takes my mouth again, deeper and harder this time. His hands slide beneath my ass, rolling me against his surging cock.
“I thought about this every moment I was away.” He holds himself hard against me, forcing us both to savor the sweet torture of waiting. He pushes the strap of my dress down, closing his mouth over my nipple.
Fuck.
“Me too.” I clutch his hair, writhing against him as his mouth slowly takes me apart.
“These literally haunted my dreams,” he says roughly, pausing to lift my other breast over my dress and shift his attention to it.
“Oh.” My head goes back so hard it thumps the wall, and he chuckles around my nipple, his cock leaping against me.
“You’re so hot and wet,” he mutters, pushing harder between my legs.
I tug impatiently at his shirt, trying to pull it over his head. Ignoring me, he works steadily on my breasts until I can’t think at all.
“Fuck.” He rears back, his eye clouded with lust. “I should make you come like this, but I can’t wait.” He tears my sundress off, then stands back and stares at me. My bra is around my waist, my knickers soaked through, and I can barely stand.
“Get your clothes off.” He pulls his shirt over his head, his eye not leaving my body. I wriggle out of my underwear, so turned on that I gasp when the air hits between my legs.
He snaps open his jeans, and his cock rears to his belly, already dripping. “Get on the bed.”
I stumble backward, unable to take my eyes off the scarred, hard, ripped length of him, the fierce need pulsing between his legs.
“Spread your legs, angel. I want to look at you.”
I moan, my hips involuntarily thrusting upward as I do as he says.
“Christ.” His voice is hoarse. “If I touch you with my tongue you’ll come instantly.”
I almost come at the thought of it.
His hand slips between my thighs. He hisses an intake of breath, then flips me over so he’s on his back, with me straddled across him.
“I think of you like this,” he says, both of his hands on my thighs, his thumbs manipulating my core.
“Like you were that first night back in Paris, when I woke up.” He rocks his length against my opening, still not letting me take it inside.
“You don’t know how much I wanted you that morning.
It still haunts my fucking dreams, the memory of you like this, looking down at me. ”
“Then show me,” I whisper.
He reaches up and pulls the pins out of my hair, letting it tumble down my back.
Leaning down, I put my mouth close to his ear. “Fuck me, Alexei.”
He enters me with a savage sound that excites me almost as much as his length ripping into me, filling me so completely my head goes back, the breath leaving my body.
His hands go to my hips, and he begins to move me, not gently. I can feel the urgency in us both, the unwillingness to wait. He rolls me over his cock, spreading me wide so every part of me is worked as he thrusts hard upward.
I go to move onto my back, and he locks me in place. “No.” He puts his hands on my nipples again, harder this time, making me cry out. “I want you like this, angel. I want to watch you come.”
My movements increase, and my head goes back, my fingers clawing at his body as I grind against him, my breath coming shorter and shorter.
“Fuck.” He rears up, his hands going under my ass, pushing me up and angling himself to a place inside me I’ve never even felt before, and his mouth captures my nipple, exploding my entire being.
“Oh!” I buck furiously against him, riding him with every spasm of my climax until his head goes back.
“Fuck.” He explodes in pulsating heat and savagery, the intensity of it ripping through us both, keeping my own orgasm rippling through me long into the aftermath.
Much later, Alexei stirs beside me and yawns. “Much as I’d like to keep you here all night,” he says huskily, kissing my head, “if we don’t eat something soon, we won’t have enough energy for everything I plan to do to you.”
I giggle. “I thought you’d done all those things already.”
He slaps my ass. “Not even close, sweetheart,” he says cheerfully as he rises from the bed. I lie there for a moment, reveling in the sight of his naked strength. I can hear the sound of voices drifting through the corridors, although I don’t know when the others got home.
“I told Darya about the wedding.”
Alexei twists his head to me as he turns on the shower. “Oh?” He looks surprisingly unconcerned.
“She didn’t seem very . . . She was worried about Papa,” I say tentatively.
“Ha.” He gives me a rather self-satisfied smile. “I don’t think that will be a problem by the time we get downstairs.”
“No?”
His grin widens at my uncertainty. “Nope.”
“Care to share?”
“Why don’t you join me in the shower, then we can go downstairs and face the music together?”
I give him a wary look. “I thought you said we needed to eat first?”
“And I meant it.” He gives me a wolfish look. “But there’s no reason I can’t snack on you first.”
If I was worried about the reception we might get, the pathway is smoothed over by Masha hurling herself at Alexei the moment we appear in the kitchen.
“Lexi!”
He catches her as she leaps, spinning her in a circle and planting a fat kiss on her cheek. “Myshka,” he says, holding her head to his shoulder. “I’ve missed you.”
She clings to him for a long time. I don’t realize I’m crying until I see Darya wiping her own eyes. She catches mine and waves me away, turning away to compose herself. By the time Alexei gently deposits Masha back to the floor, we’ve both managed to regain control.
“Dar.” He crosses the floor and pulls his sister into a warm embrace.
I don’t miss her expression of surprise, nor the way she accepts his embrace almost nervously, as if waiting for him to push her away.
But he doesn’t, just stands there for a long time hugging her, then gently steps back, still with his hands on her shoulders.
He asks, “Has Roman spoken to you yet?”
“He has.” Swallowing the tears still hovering in her eyes, Darya holds his arms, shaking her head slowly. “I’m so happy for you, Alexei,” she says softly. “So happy for you both.”
“I’m glad everyone is happy.” I look between them in confusion. “But perhaps someone might want to explain exactly why?”
Darya gives her brother a narrow look. “You mean you haven’t told her yet?”
He yawns without bothering to cover his mouth. “This might come as a shock, Dar, but we’ve had better things to do than talk.”
“Oh, lord.” She covers her face as I go a flaming shade of red.
Masha rolls her eyes. “Gross.”