Chapter 51 Gabi
GABI
The urge to tell him, to open up before he thinks it’s something I’ve intentionally hidden from him, simmers up again, but I’m too drugged with lust to talk. Even fear has left the building.
“Turn around. Bend over and hold on to the bed, legs straight, ass in the air.”
I bite my lip and do as I’m told. I am, after all, a good girl who listens to her husband. A husband who knows what he’s doing and expects me to obey his every command. Commands that make this easy for me, not having to think about anything, just feeling. Delaying the inevitable.
“That’s right, moya ptichka,” he murmurs as his hands come to rest on my butt, his fingers digging into the soft flesh, squeezing and then softly circling over my ass. He runs his fingertips down my thighs and up again, sparking a rush of need that travels way beyond my legs.
He bends over me and trails kisses down my spine as his fingers slip underneath the thong and pull it up, putting pressure on my clit, his cock pressing into me, seeking. I arch my back, moaning, wanting more, wanting everything, but he is setting the pace, and he knows how to take his sweet time.
He licks and kisses his way south, shifting on his feet the lower he goes down my spine, and by the time his mouth is at the start of my crack, I’m squirming. It’s too intimate, the feeling too intense, the burning need too much. “Ivan—”
“I’m going to be all over you tonight, Gabriella, so hold still,” he murmurs against my skin, a smile in his voice. “And I’m still going to fuck you here, too. I promise you, you’ll like it…I’ll make sure you like it so much, you’ll start craving it.”
The notion should shock me, but it doesn’t. It’s a promise I’ll hold my husband to, if I survive the night.
He shifts then, repositioning himself and I try to look over my shoulder, but his thumb sneaks down, brushing over my tight little hole and startling me.
I gasp, but then there’s more…a finger, slipping into my sex, pressing down on my inner walls.
I reach between my legs, blocking him from touching my clit.
“Good girl,” he murmurs. “We’ll work both angles.”
Oh God—now he thinks—
Arousal and dread pulse through me at the same time, but I can’t stop myself. His words only spur me on, arousal winning as he pushes in deeper, adding fingers and putting pressure on the perfect spot.
“Ivan—”
“It’s okay, moya ptichka, let’s make you come this way first…you’re so fucking tight, there’s no other way of doing this.”
He pushes slowly in and out, and I realize his long fingers are facing down, his upper hand riding against my butt, and the pressure on my inner wall is sublime.
“Feel that?” he whispers as I start to gasp, driving back into his hand, something building in me that I didn’t know existed. “That’s your G-spot, and you’re so wet already, I bet you’d squirt if I ask nicely.”
Drenched. A man who sticks to his word. With my fingers now grinding against my clit to prevent his fingers from going there, the buildup is fast, intense.
“How are you planning to ask nicely?” I’m panting, too focused on every new sensation riding up my body, the perfect pressure, the slow and steady thrust of his fingers which he times just right, my own catching on the rhythm.
“Just like this,” he says, his other hand fisting the hair at the back of my skull, pulling my head up, forcing my back to arch as he bends over to kiss my hair, my forehead, his warm breath sensual on my skin as his hand continues its delicious assault.
I’m at his mercy, as I’ve been from the start.
“I’m—I’m—” I gasp.
“That’s my good girl. Come for me, Gabriella,” he murmurs as he ups the pressure but not the speed of his thrusts.
And then it’s the moment where the balloon is stretched too far.
I burst as an orgasm crashes through me, seeping through his fingers down my legs.
And still, he thrusts his fingers into me, squelching noises filling the room, arousing me even more.
He doesn’t stop until I’m quivering, my legs unstable, and I topple over onto the mattress. Ivan has me as he extracts his hand and turns me around and gathers me in his arms.
I burrow into him and cling, and he lets me, soothing me with kisses as I come down from my high.
Eventually, he lowers me to the bed and takes my heels off.
In the last twilight streaming through the windows, I watch how he strips off his shirt, his eyes locked with mine until he reveals his chest, distracting me.
Those tattoos…I wouldn’t know if they match anyone else’s, but at least he has nothing on his hands.
He unbuckles his belt and drags his pants, underwear and all, down his legs and kicks them away.
His socks follow, and he’s naked and so beautiful, I swallow and lick my lips.
His cock juts out, large and menacing at this angle, but all I want is to reach for it, suck it into my mouth and taste him, making him feel what he made me feel, letting him come undone as I have.
He fists it in his hand, giving it a few slow strokes, mimicking what he’s done to me, the engorged tip wet with pre-cum.
“You’re good?” he asks as he kneels with one leg on the bed, his hand sliding over my stomach to my hip and circling back to my lower stomach where he pushes down with his palm and massages a slow circle, going ever lower…
God, he knows just how to touch me, and I want to sink into the mattress and have more of this, all of this, but soon…
Soon, he’s going to come across it.
Suddenly, it’s all too much. The tension, the buildup to this point, the disillusion coming his way. My sin exposed.
Quiet tears seep from my eyes, sliding down my temples.
“Don’t be mad,” I whisper, wanting to hide in the dark. Wanting to rip that thing from my body, wanting to reverse time.
“For what?”
Silence fills the room as I say nothing and he eventually looks down at my sex.
“For this?” he says, the soft sweep of his fingertips sliding over my drenched sex. “This is still blood from your period? You weren’t wearing anything so—”
“No.” My answer comes quick and instinctive. God help me. I forgot I was faking one of those at some point.
Too slow to be a spy. Too fucking terrible at it to be one. Too honest, too naive.
I sit up on my elbow and glance down to where the panties’ gusset is stained red. It must be—
“Fuck, I was too rough.” With a groan, he sneaks a finger under the front of the thong and pulls it to the side. “Open up for me, moya ptichka. I want to fucking taste you, kiss it better, make you come again and then take you.”
Of course he’s going to want to taste and own my virginal blood…it’s something you only get to taste once. And for all that Ivan has been gentle, there’s a side to him I haven’t seen yet. Cruel. Ruthless. Calculated.
Bloodthirsty.
He is going to be unhinged, but I do as he asks me to.
As he slides with ease into my drenched slit, arousal sweeps through me, but then his hand stills. He must have felt it, his finger connecting with the metal.
“Gabriella—”
Fear pulses through my veins, holding hands with the realization that I was foolish to withhold this from him.
“I’m sorry. I should have—” I break off, quiet tears streaming, a sob trapped in my throat. “I didn’t know how—”
He touches my piercing, slowly, feels the tip on the one side, sliding over my slick clit to find the other.
Even like this, it turns me on, but something shifts in his stance. His shoulders tense, his eyes narrow, and it hits me he’s come across one of these before.
“What the fuck is this, moya ptichka?”
I swallow, fear crushing any hopes for tonight. “A reminder to never touch myself, to stay pure—”—for the man I was promised to. The man who really owns me.
Incredulity flashes in his eyes. “That’s what you were told? Holy fucking hell—”