Chapter 31 Mara #2
"Safe words," I say, and I feel him tense slightly. "If we're going to do this—if I'm going to submit to you in private—we need safe words."
He's quiet for a moment. "Maybe we should keep it simple. Yellow and red?"
"Yellow for slow down or pause, red for full stop," I agree. "And they work both ways. If either of us needs to stop, for any reason, we use them."
“That’s new. But I can do that.” His hand continues its soothing motion through my hair. "What else?"
"Surveillance." I take a breath. "I won't have trackers on me constantly. I won't have guards following me everywhere. But I'll keep location sharing on my phone—voluntarily. So you can see where I am if you need to."
Ilya stops briefly and looks at me, surprise clearly written across his face. “You’d agree to that?”
“This is about compromise, right?” I touch his cheek.
“I have to compromise, too. And after what happened tonight, even I can agree that it’s good for you to know where I am.
” I pause. “And if I ever feel like something is wrong, I’ll call you.
Immediately." I cup his face with my hand.
"If I feel something is off, even slightly, even if it seems like nothing—I call you.
I promise. I won't take stupid risks, and I won't ignore my instincts. "
"And when you travel for work?"
"I'll send you my itinerary. I'll check in regularly. But I won't have surveillance on me." I hold his gaze. "You have to let me do my job, Ilya. You have to let me have that part of my life."
He takes a slow breath. I can see how difficult this is for him.
But he finally nods. “That’s very… reasonable,” he says finally.
"But if you're traveling somewhere dangerous, somewhere with higher risk, I want the option to send someone with you.
Not to watch you, but to be available if you need help. "
It's another compromise. And a reasonable one, I can admit.
"As long as they stay out of my way and don't interfere with my work," I agree. I trace the line of his jaw. "And the art world connections? Using my gallery?"
"We'll start small. Test the waters. See how it works." His hand finds mine, lacing our fingers together. "But Mara, if at any point you want out, if this becomes too much—"
"I'll tell you. I promise." I squeeze his hand. "We'll figure this out together. We'll make mistakes, we'll have to adjust, but we'll do it together."
"Together," he repeats, like he's testing the word.
He reaches over to the nightstand, opening a drawer, and pulls out the diamond choker. He holds it out in his palm, the diamonds sparkling in the low light. "I want you to wear this," he says quietly. "But only if you want it. Only if you're choosing it."
I look at the choker, at this symbol of submission and ownership. Before, it felt like a chain. Like another way for him to control me.
But now, after everything we've been through, after everything we've agreed to—now it feels like something else—like a promise.
I take the choker from him, carefully. "Help me put it on," I whisper.
Ilya's breath catches. "Mara—"
I lift the choker to my throat, and Ilya moves behind me, his hands coming up to help with the clasp. I feel the cool metal settle against my skin, and it feels like it belongs there.
Like this, the way we’ve chosen it, is finally right.
When it's fastened, I turn to look at him, and the expression on his face takes my breath away. He’s looking at me with a depth of emotion that makes my chest ache, possession and love in his gaze as he pulls me toward him.
"You're so beautiful," he says, his voice rough. "So fucking beautiful, and you're mine."
“I’m yours,” I whisper. “And you’re mine.”
My lips find his, and he kisses me, long and slow and deep, his hand winding in my hair.
The towel around me falls away as his hands slide over me, touching, claiming, so full of desire that I feel as if I’m burning up from the inside out.
I arch into his touch, feeling the choker shift against my throat, a constant reminder of what I've chosen.
He rolls me onto my back, careful of my wrists, and I feel him part my legs gently.
He moves down my body, kissing and licking, worshipping every inch of me as he runs his lips over my throat, my breasts, sucking my nipples into his mouth until I arch up and cry out.
I thread my fingers through his hair, heedless of my damaged wrists, and he groans, sliding further down my body until his mouth is between my thighs.
He licks me slowly, carefully, as if he’s savoring the taste of me.
His fingers slide into me, stroking with long, slow movements as he slides his tongue over my clit, groaning as he pushes me closer to the edge.
He reaches down as his tongue circles the sensitive nerves, gripping himself with one hand as if it’s too much, jerking himself in harsh strokes as he sucks my clit between his lips.
I cry out, his name a high pitched moan as I come hard on his tongue, and he rises up, breathless as he pushes himself into me. I can feel him shudder, hear him moan as he sinks into me, and I cup his face in my hands, wrapping my heels around his calves.
I can see the man beneath the monster. The one who's capable of tenderness and love and sacrifice. The one who's willing to change for me, to try to be better than he is.
But I also see the darkness. The possessiveness, the obsession, the violence that's as much a part of him as his skin and blood and muscle.
And I accept it. All of it. I can't separate the light from the dark in someone like Ilya.
They're woven together, inseparable, and loving him means loving all of it.
I want all of it. The violence and the gentleness.
"I love you," I whisper as he moves inside me, every muscle straining not to come too quickly as he throbs inside of me. "I love you, Ilya."
“I love you,” he breathes. “I’m not sure if I know what the word means, Mara, but I swear I’ll learn. If I love anything, it’s you. I’ll be what you need, or I’ll die trying.”
"Don't die." I pull him down to me, pressing my lips to his as I tighten around him, pulling him deeper. "I don't want to lose you. I want you alive, with me, the two of us finding a way to give each other what we need."
“Yes.” He gasps the word. “Anything, Mara. Anything for you.”
He thrusts again, harder this time, and I feel him let go, feel the shudder that ripples down his spine as he buries his face in my neck and comes in me, filling me until he’s wrung dry.
“This was always meant to be,” he murmurs against my throat, and I nod, turning my head to press my lips against his hair.
I can feel it too. We were inevitable. And now, we’re here.
We can build something beautiful out of this darkness. Something real, and ours.
Together.
I close my eyes, and I let myself drift off to sleep in the arms of the man I love. The man who's willing to change for me, to fight himself the way he’s fought the world all his life.
It won’t always be easy. But that doesn’t matter.
We've found each other.
And we're never letting go.