Chapter 22 Noemi
NOEMI
Fyodor carries Sasha into the room like he weighs nothing, cradling the boy against his chest with one arm while he unlocks the door with the other.
Sasha doesn't stir at all. He's soundly asleep and must feel so safe in Fyodor's arms all the way up to the point where he lays the boy in bed and tucks him in.
I'm soaked and so is Fyodor, but we've managed to keep Sasha mostly dry.
I stand there shivering in my wet clothes, watching him pull the blanket up over his son and tuck it around his small body.
There's something tender in the way he does it now, like he's starting to get the point finally.
He's trying so hard, even when he doesn't know what he's doing. It's so amazingly sweet and endearing.
When he reaches up under the blanket and pulls Sasha's shoes off one by one I feel my heart melting.
Fyodor didn't have to come out looking for me and I'd have been fine—eventually.
But the fact that he did come looking for me, and that he made an effort to apologize means something to me.
He really is trying and not just with Sasha.
I'm falling for this man so hard, so very hard.
"I'm going to shower," I whisper. "I'm freezing."
He nods without looking at me, still watching Sasha sleep, and I slip into the bathroom and close the door behind me.
The tiles under foot add another layer to my chill as I peel off my wet clothes and drop them in a pile on the floor.
My shirt, my jeans, my underwear, all of it soaked through.
I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and barely recognize the woman staring back at me, hair plastered to her face and mascara smeared under her eyes.
I turn on the shower and wait for the water to heat up, steam slowly filling the small space.
When I step under the spray it's almost too hot, burning against my cold skin, but I don't turn it down.
I need the heat to thaw out a little, and the warmth is shocking enough to force my brain to think about how startling change can be to people.
Fyodor is trying to reprogram his brain that's been conditioned to live without concern for anyone but himself and his orders for years. The amount of effort it must take for him to be human must feel staggering.
The bathroom door opens and closes, and I hear the lock click into place.
Fyodor's silhouette appears through the frosted glass of the shower door, and I watch him strip off his own wet clothes and drop them on the floor next to mine.
He doesn't ask if he can join me when he opens the shower door and steps in before closing it behind himself.
I feel startled and I keep my back to him.
"What are you doing?" I hiss, and I feel goosebumps rise on my arms.
"What do you think I'm doing?" His voice is low too. Neither of us wants to wake Sasha and the walls are paper thin. "It's freezing. I don't want to catch pneumonia."
But Fyodor isn't in this shower with me just to warm up.
I know it the minute his icy hands rest on my hips and pull me out of the water.
By now I'm beginning to slowly acclimate to the temperature, so the shock of his freezing skin on mine makes me shudder.
But more shocking is the hardness squeezing its way between my thighs from behind as he presses his chest flat against my shoulder blades.
"When I said you were mine, I meant it, Noemi…" His hot whisper dusts my shoulder and I lean into him. This time when he says it, I'm not offended. I don't feel controlled. I feel desired.
"Shh," he whispers right into my ear.
I shake my head that I understand and lean back against him, and his hands come up to cup both of my breasts at once, squeezing and kneading them.
I almost moan it feels good, but I remember Sasha sleeping in the next room and bit my lip.
Fyodor rewards me with a kiss to the cheek, hot and open mouthed trailing his teeth across my skin until he sinks them into my shoulder.
"Good girl," he praises quietly. His hips grind into my back side slowly while one hand slides across my belly following the trail of water that trickles lower across my mound.
Then his fingers find my clit and apply pressure making me hiss.
"Ah, ah, shh," he reminds me, and I whimper.
This could be torture of the most exquisite kind.
Fyodor's fingers stay pressed to my clit, holding the steady pressure that makes my hips twitch forward on instinct. His other hand keeps kneading my breast, thumb brushing over the nipple in lazy circles while his chest stays molded to my back.
He grinds against me again, sliding his cock between my thighs until his thick shaft drags through my folds. His blunt head catches at my entrance each time, nudging but never pushing in, then glides up over my clit where his fingers pin my clit down. The double sensation makes my thighs shake.
I bite harder on my lip to keep quiet. His breath is hot against my ear as he speaks. "So wet for me already," he murmurs. And his fingers finally move—two of them spreading me open while the middle one circles my clit a few times then stops again teasing me.
His hips rock forward harder this time, shaft gliding through the slickness he's made, coating himself completely.
My knees buckle a little and he tightens his arm around my waist to hold me up, palm flat over my lower belly again, pressing me back against him.
The slick mess my body has made makes every glide smoother and my hips shift back toward him without permission.
He exhales against my ear, "You want it so bad, don't you?" The words are soft, almost a question. His finger pauses, then presses harder, holding my clit trapped while he rocks forward one more time. His shaft glides through the wetness, coating itself completely before pulling back.
He shifts his stance slightly, widening my thighs with his knee.
The new angle lets his cock slide deeper between my folds without entering, the thick shaft parting me fully now.
Each forward rock drags the head along my entrance, teasing the tight ring before gliding up to press against my clit where his finger still works.
I clench around nothing, hips rocking back to meet him. He lets me move this time, matching my desperate little shifts. His free hand slides up to cup my breast again, fingers pinching the nipple just enough to send sparks down my spine.
"So close," he whispers, as his circles quicken on my clit, firmer now, while his hips grind harder, the slick glide turning into something almost punishing. The head catches at my entrance every few strokes, dipping just the slightest bit deeper each time, stretching me open without pushing in.
My thighs shake violently. The tension coils so tight it hurts. I whimper into my arm, muffling the sound. He keeps the pace exact, denying the final thrust, letting the edge hover agonizingly close.
"Please," I whisper, maybe a little too loudly, but Fyodor doesn’t chastise me. Instead his hands slide to my hips where he bends me forward under the spray of water, and then pushes into me in one hard thrust.
I gasp as he bottoms out, hitting my back wall, and I clench around him hard as he starts thrusting. Without the pressure on my clit it just isn’t the same. I reach between my legs and touch myself, bringing those tantalizing sensations back to the surface.
The pressure builds again, slower this time but heavier.
Every thrust pushes against that spot inside me, making my thighs quiver.
I press harder on my clit, rubbing in tight, quick circles.
Heat spreads from my core outward, tightening everything.
My breathing turns ragged, short gasps I try to swallow and Fyodor thrusts in deep and holds there, rolling his hips in a slow circle.
The motion grinds the tip of his cock against my cervix, adding another sensation and my walls start to flutter around him, light pulses at first, then stronger.
The coil inside me tightens so painfully I think I might be unable to stop myself from crying out, and then it snaps.
The orgasm hits in waves. First a sharp, electric jolt that makes my whole body lock, then rolling contractions that ripple through my core.
My walls clamp down hard on his dick, pulsing in long, slow squeezes that milk him with every beat.
Pleasure floods me, spreading from my clit through my belly and down my legs and I brace harder on the tile to stay upright.
I keep rubbing through it, drawing out the aftershocks.
Each pulse makes me clench again, and Fyodor groans low in his throat, thrusts turning shallow as my body grips him.
I feel his warmth flood me, and the waves slow, leaving me trembling and still fluttering around him.
My fingers slow on my clit, then stop. I rest my forehead against the cool tile, catching my breath while he stays buried inside me, moving gently now, letting the last tremors fade.
When I straighten he slides out of me and our bodies press together. He peppers kisses on my shoulder as he reaches for the tiny bottle of shampoo on the shower caddy. Then he washes my hair and turns me in the flow of water to rinse it, and we swap places as he scrubs himself clean.
Minutes later, we're toweling off without so much as a word about what just happened. It's comfortable and when he leans over to kiss me as he reaches for the robes hanging on the back side of the door, I smile into his lips.
"You're incredible," I tell him softly, and he nips my lip.
"Shh," he chastises gently. "You'll wake him." But he smiles at me too, and I can't help but feel giddy.
I tie the belt of the motel bathrobe around my waist and watch Fyodor do the same with his. Then he gathers our wet clothes from the bathroom floor and carries them out to the main room, draping them over the backs of chairs and the edge of the dresser where they can dry overnight.
Sasha's still asleep on the bed, curled up under the blanket with a peaceful expression and rhythmic breathing. It's a heartwarming sight to see him snuggled in that bed, but my body aches for rest.
Fyodor moves to the couch against the wall and sits down, running his hands through his damp hair. He looks exhausted like me, maybe more so.
I cross the room and climb onto his lap without asking permission, curling my legs up and resting my head against his chest. He goes stiff for a second, like he's unsure what to make of this, but then his arms come up around me and he lets out a long breath that I feel against the top of my head.
"It was sweet of you," I say quietly. "Coming to look for me like that."
He doesn't respond but I don't really need him to. I know things like that are difficult for him, and I'm willing to be patient as he learns everything for the first time.
"Thank you," I add, because I want him to know that I noticed, that it mattered to me that he spent hours driving around in the middle of the night trying to find me instead of just letting me go.
But still he says nothing. I can feel his chest rising and falling under my cheek. His heart beats a little faster, and I pull back enough to look up at his face. "This is the part where you're supposed to say 'you're welcome.'" Smiling, I cup his cheek and study him.
His jaw tightens and I watch as his eyes shift away from me and then return. "You're welcome," he says finally, and he sounds awkward, like he's not used to saying things like that.
My fingers trace the line of his jaw where the stubble's rough against my skin. He closes his eyes at the contact, and I watch some of the tension drain out of his shoulders.
"I'm sorry I'm not good at all of this," he admits. I see the storm behind his eyes and shake my head.
"It's okay," I tell him. "I'll teach you everything you need to know."
He doesn't say anything, but his arms tighten around me and he pulls me closer against his chest. I settle back into him and close my eyes, listening to his heart beat and feeling the warmth of his body against mine.
I don't know what tomorrow will bring or how any of this is going to work out in the end. I never envisioned myself being with a man who kills people for a living. The idea of tolerating that should make me so disgusted but it’s easy to forget about who Fyodor Gravitch really is when I'm just lying on his chest.
In this moment he's not a killer or a scary person. He's just the man who tracked me down in the rain and apologized for being a jerk to me. And he's made me feel safe and wanted.
And right now I'm too tired to put much thought into it other than I feel comforted, safe, and warm. And I'll think about the rest tomorrow.