Chapter 56 Ivan
IVAN
I carry her all the way to the house and up the stairs to her room.
At some point, she stopped protesting, and I missed her poorly aimed slaps at my butt.
Then she giggled. “All the blood is going to my head! I’m drunk!
” followed minutes later by a vague protest that included, “Put me down. I’m feeling sick. ”
I ignore her and the guards along the way, and just shoot Yuri a swift glance where he is waiting outside her room.
“The girls?”
“Asleep.”
“Good.”
He points to a washing basket with everything raided from Gabriella’s room.
“In my office. Wait for us there. Two guards on the stairs,” I huff, feeling her weight now. “Our little bird isn’t taking flight soon.”
And then we’re back in her room, which still has the markings of a bride’s wedding night, except that everything has been re-ordered after Yuri had scoured the place for proof.
The wedding dress we’d left on the floor is draped over the dressing table chair, and the bed is freshly made. We didn’t even get that far.
“Right,” I say as I heave her down.
She sways, flushed red in the face, and clings to my arms. I steady her, and then she meets my gaze, flustered.
“I don’t know if I just need to sit or need to vomit.”
“Probably sit. Do it in here,” I say as I steer her to the bathroom.
I spot my camera’s inconspicuous lens where it’s still taking footage, so well-hidden…
but if she were a pro—a real spy—she would have spotted it by now.
“Here.” I nudge her toward the bath’s edge, and with a soft squeeze of her shoulder, she sinks down.
I reach for my belt buckle and start to unfasten it.
“Ivan—”
Fear flashes through her eyes and fuck it, my anger, still simmering, threatens to boil up again. Someone took a belt to her, probably as a kid, maybe some perverted priest or nun when she was older. Doesn’t she know me? Hasn’t she seen enough in the past weeks in this house?
“I’m into a lot of things, but I’m not a fucking wife beater. I’m taking a shower, and I’m not letting you out of my sight.” So watch, so I can watch you and dissect your reactions with fresh eyes.
I step a foot away, but keep facing her, and she stares up at me, eyes wide, our gazes locked as I pull the belt from its loops.
With a slow, forced exhale, I lower it to the floor, not wanting to startle my already jittery bird.
The buckle clangs as it hits the marble tile, and I watch as her gaze jumps from the discarded belt back to me.
Her eyes beg me not to do this—mine beg her to watch, to drop her gaze to my hard, needy cock.
The silence stretches as I take my time to unbutton and zip down my pants, knowing by the time they fall to the ground, I’m going to be so fucking hard, and all I want is her mouth…
those sweet rosy lips to close over my cock while she keeps staring me in the eye like this. So fucking honest, so fucking sweet.
I could use her. I could force her to her knees and make her suck me off, but I’ve never needed to force a woman, and I’m sure as fuck not going to start now.
I drop my pants, and my cock jumps free, bobbing within arm’s reach.
I take it in hand, slowly riding it until she drops her gaze and stares, licking her lips, a red flush spreading on her cheeks.
“Still want this?” I ask, offering it to her.
She bites her plump bottom lip but says nothing. Through her robe’s thin fabric, her nipples pout, needy, perfect little peaks I’d love to pay attention to if this wasn’t all so fucked up.
“Maybe later.” I step up to her, close the gap as I lean in, and with a tug at her robe’s belt, loosen it.
She doesn’t protest or slap my hands away…
she’s surrendering to this moment, powerless to move away, drunk on lust. Oh, yes, this one is slowly waking up to her body’s needs, no longer suppressed by whatever fucked-up paradigms have been nurtured in her mind.
With a delicate slow sweep over her soft skin, I run my forefingers along her collarbones, forcing her robe to slide off her shoulders, exposing her breasts as it slips from her arms. She’s sitting there, naked, arousal drifting up from every pore on her skin to make me feral with need.
I take my straining cock in hand again and cup her cheek with the other one, forcing her to look up at me.
“Feel free to touch yourself, moya ptichka. You’ll never know when it’s the last time you get to do it. Plus you’re no longer in the convent here.”
I step into the shower, already knowing that whatever this is, I’m seeing it through. I need release to clear my mind. Otherwise, all I’ll be thinking of when we interrogate her is how I want to fuck her, feel her tight pussy grip my cock.
I turn on the cold water and let it spray down my spine, drop my head back so the water can pelt my face, and then I reach for the soap. I’m scrubbing down, taking my time, touching myself all over and imagining these are her hands, her touch, her lips on me.
All the while, I keep an eye on her, my dare tensing the air as if we’re a rubber band about to snap.
A cold shower is apparently the key to subduing a raging fucking hard-on, but it doesn’t work when the woman of your dreams is sitting on the bath’s edge, slowly widening her legs as her hand slides to her sex.
As I brace with my free hand on the shower wall, my gaze homes in on her pussy, her sweet clit, with the piercing’s little round tips hidden between her flesh and curls. Fuck. She’s still wet from earlier, or she’s newly aroused because she’s slick and circles her clit with ease.
She’s going to undo me, just like this.
I grip my cock tighter, the image too vivid, our mutual need on open display.
She starts to rock into her hand, her legs as wide open as they’ll go, and I fist myself with such intensity that I have to pause, pull back to watch her…
how her chest heaves, how her eyes close and her head drops back, listen to the sweet little moans she’s making over the rush of water cascading down my back.
I bend my cock to hold myself in check and then slowly ride it again, matching her pace, watching her get herself there.
She starts to shudder, and her whole body pulls taut as she bites her fist to subdue her moans.
And it’s the most erotic fucking thing I’ve seen in my life.
My balls tighten, and the gush of sperm that pulses from my cock comes as if somewhere, someone has opened a sluice.
I grunt, letting it spray all over the shower’s clear glass wall.
Fuck. The release is intense, and when I open my eyes to connect with her again, she looks drugged, coming down slowly, her hand still pressed to her sex. I bet she’s soaked.
I close the faucet, not bothering to wash off my cum. Let it stay there as a reminder why I married her in the first place: to bear my children. A simple fucking business arrangement. Nothing more.
As I stare at her through the glass wall, it seems to sink in slowly, this thing we’ve done. She drops her gaze, her cheeks flushed with shame as she gathers the robe and closes her legs.
Fuck that. I’m not done.
“Don’t close up, moya ptichka.” I step out of the shower, not bothering to grab a towel. When I cup her cheek, a tremor runs down her body.
“You’re cold,” she whispers.
“Feel it,” I say as I trail my fingers over her jaw, down her neck and between her breasts, lower, ever lower to the flat plane of her stomach and her sweet mound.
“Ivan—”
“Look at me, Gabriella,” I say as I nudge her open and she obeys my unspoken instruction, wanting this, too.
“Fucking sexiest thing I’ve ever seen,” I murmur as I dip my finger into her pussy, gathering her release on my hand.
She’s so wet and swollen, almost still pulsing.
I run two fingertips along her clit, up and down, finding the ridge the piercing makes, and she quivers.
“Oh my—oh my—” She reaches for my arms to steady herself, her hands warm against my cool skin.
“Haven’t come enough yet, have you? Come some more for me. I bet you’ve been wanting to come like this since the day you got pierced.”
“Yes… Please—Ivan—”
So fucking polite. I finger her hard and fast, drawing another orgasm out of her, but something bites at the heels of this moment as her sex grips and pulses around my fingers. The treachery I still need to deal with tonight.
I hold my hand still for a long minute, letting her come down, then pull away. She lets go, staring at me in a haze. I raise my fingers to my mouth and lick off her cum as she widens her eyes.
“You’re such a fucking good girl, aren’t you?
” I thrust my fingers hard and deep into my mouth and suck.
Fuck, she tastes so sweet. I release my fingers with a soft pop and step away from her, knowing I have no choice.
“Such a pity we need to move on to the business of you, a Russian spy, being stranded in my house, moya ptichka. As husband and wife, we would’ve gotten along like a house on fire. ”