34
I stand up from the bed when I hear a noise from my terrace. Then I find him sneaking into the room.
“Hey,” he whispers softly. “Sorry I’m late. I was busy with something.”
“With what?” I ask. He pushes my body to the bed. His rough hands keep me pinned to the bed when I plan to get up.
“It’s nothing,” he then says, taking off his tee. My eyes immediately fall to his abs and my mouth almost salivating when I notice his bulge.
“I don’t like you hiding things from me,” I mutter, lifting my head from his body.
“I’m not hiding anything from you.”
“Then why won’t you tell me?” His gaze travels down my legs, leaving a tingling sensation.
“I’ve just had some problems with Sergei.”
“What problems? I have a right to know too, he’s my bodyguard.” He sighs and shakes his head, flashing a brief smile.
“Someone tried to kill him.”
“What? But you said we didn’t have to worry about Norman anymore.” He nods, sliding his hands down my thighs. When I try to pull my legs up he tightens his grip, a menacing look in his eyes.
“And I stand by that,” he says before sliding his tongue from my belly button to my inner thigh. “But it wasn’t him.” His hands now take care of the edge of my panties.
“And he’s okay?” I ask, my cheeks flushing as I watch him sniff the piece of fabric with a satisfied moan.
“He is. Don’t worry about that now,” he murmurs into my stomach, catching my skin in a bite before discarding my tank top by pulling it over my head.
He goes back to licking my stomach until he reaches my chest, then he bites one of my nipples hard enough to make me scream. He silences me by putting two of his fingers in my mouth. I gag, my stomach almost churning with nausea. He makes me suck them before it can escape my throat.
“I thought we were going to sleep,” I whisper, my heart racing as he runs those two fingers across my legs, reaching my mound.
“We can do that later. We have a long night ahead of us.”
“Are you going to tie me up again?” I scoff in a whisper when I see the black handkerchief he is holding.
“No. Be good. We don’t want you getting into trouble,” he replies, bringing the handkerchief to my mouth.
“If you keep looking at me like that, I will devour you whole,” he warns, his eyes darkening more than usual.
He scans my face while removing his underwear, exposing his already harder than stone manhood. “Turn around.”
I do as he asks, biting the inside of my cheek anxiously. He brings his face close to my arse, running his tongue from my folds to the entrance of my tight hole.
“You have no idea what I’d like to do to you right now.” I do, and that gives me enough adrenaline to dispel my fear.
I close my eyes tightly as I feel him enter me from behind without warning, sweeping everything away.
It doesn’t hurt like the first time, but the pain doesn’t completely disappear either.
A tear rolls down my cheek as he begins to increase the pace.
I touch his leg, wanting him to slow down, but he pushes my hand away and pins them above my head.
“You will take everything I give you, Lena. No fucking complaints,” he hisses trapping my wrists with his hand. His hips slams against my buttocks harder, until the point I know they must be reddening.
I furrow my eyebrows as I feel a hard, cold surface caress my folds before going all the way in with a rude thrust. I gasp.
It’s more than I can take. He begins to move the strange object at the same pace as him.
I feel myself going crazy with pleasure.
I am grateful to be gagged, otherwise we wouldn’t have lasted even two minutes without someone knocking on the door.
My walls begin to writhe with orgasm, causing me to let my body fall onto the bed, pulling away from his in an impulse.
He quickly frees my wrists and then lifts my arse and holds it that way.
“Where do you think you’re going, huh? I’m not done with you yet,” he whispers in my ear.
When he turns me around, my eyes go to the gun I gave him the other day. Now it’s covered in my fluids, which he licks with a moan of satisfaction. My cheeks turn bright red when I realize that he fucked me with it. Then he caresses my cheeks with the gun, brushing away a few strands of hair.
“Have I told you how fucking beautiful you are?” He asks in a hoarse voice. I nod, feeling myself drunk on him. “Fuck. I want to bite your face off,” he licks the whole way up to my chin, biting it softly after.
The gun fades into the background when he puts himself back in, this time in my pussy, while his fingers slide in and out of the tight ring of my ass.
The handkerchief is no longer enough to silence me, so he covers my mouth with his free hand, pinching my nose with his fingers.
Just as the air leaves my lungs and I begin to suffocate, he lets go and I collapse onto the mattress again with an overwhelming orgasm.
The weight on the bed beside me disappears and I lay my head on the pillow, feeling too tired to follow him to the bathroom and clean myself up.
When he returns, he does so with a wet cloth that he uses to remove the rest of our fluids from my body.
I gasp and open my eyes as I feel his fingers remove the remaining mess from me.
“I’m sorry. I thought you were asleep,” he says, removing the damp cloth from my body. “Are you still unable to sleep?”
“Yeah,” I murmur, sitting up on the bed with the sheet barely covering my body.
“If it’s about Sergei, I already told you there’s nothing to worry about. He’ll be fine.”
“It’s not that,” I say in a whisper with my head bowed.
“Then what is it?”
“My father says he doesn’t trust you…”
“Do you trust me?” His voice is almost a whisper, interrupting what I was about to say.
“Yes. You know I do,” I reply, nodding my head, his harsh features now seeming to relax.
“Then that’s enough for me. What your parents think of me shouldn’t matter to you. After all, you’re the only one who really knows me.”
“Well, I wouldn’t be so sure. I feel like I don’t know enough about you and I want to know absolutely everything.” He smiles and wraps his arms around me as I pull myself closer to his chest.
“What do you want to know?” The image of those paintings and photos I saw in his house comes to mind, and I prepare to eliminate that doubt in the most subtle way possible.
“Where is your mother?”
“She died a long time ago.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I… didn’t know,” I murmur, stumbling over my words.
“Don’t worry, I don’t feel anything anymore. I don’t think I ever did. All my feelings stayed with you. I wasn’t lying when I said I gave you everything I had.”
I don’t know if his words are true and I really shouldn’t worry, but I feel a strong urge to comfort him and make him feel everything will be okay. To reveal to him that he’s beginning to take over every part of my being too.
I press our bare chests together and caress his back, frowning when my fingertips touch a rough surface. A scar that seems to be quite long, and there appear to be more next to it. I slowly pull away with a lump tightening my throat, hiding my shock with a smile I hope he wouldn’t see through.
“I have another question.”
I take the book he gave me a while ago, the one hiding poems and letters inside, and place it in front of us. Hoping that by changing the subject I can banish the horrible scenarios plaguing my mind of his younger self being mistreated by someone.
“What about it?” He asks. The few rays of light coming through the window highlight the sparkle in his eyes. There is no jewel more precious than his eyes. Not even the one in his perfect tongue.
“Where did you get it?”
“From my bookshelf.”
“You know what I mean. Who’s the author? He doesn’t seem to be very well known.” I retort, lifting an eyebrow. I already know who it is, I just want to hear it from his own lips and tell me why he didn’t show them before.
The books have nothing but poems, letters and numbers.
Numbers in the new chapters, on a new page that welcome a new poem or letter.
I soon discovered that the numbers at the beginning of the chapters represent different days.
One text per day. The poems are not the typical kind that give you butterflies in your stomach.
The verses are sinister, they talk about love from points of view that no one would dare to even think about.
They blur the line between obsession and love, but to me they are beautiful.
I found myself on the verge of tears more than once though.
Reading his pain when I was not with him, his anger when he had to leave to some kind of academy he didn’t want to and the stages of our relationship was overwhelming and frustrating at the same time.
I hated myself for not being able to remember and for forgetting about us.
I stop when I reach the page/day 2556. After that one his mind seemed to have gone into a wild frenzy, the pages were stained with dry tears and blood, despair leaking into the words, and it was then when it hit me.
That’s when my accident happened, but I still couldn’t sort everything out.
“No, it’s not.”
“Alek,” I protest with a pout.
“It’s mine.”
“Do you write?” I ask, my confusion reflected in my voice. He nods very slowly. “And do you have more? I’d like to read them.”
“Yes, but I would have to translate them, lyubov’.”
“What do you mean by translating them?”
“I write them in Russian. It sounds better to me,” he explains, caressing my hand. He seems unable to keep his hands off me, even when we are this close, and I love that. It makes me feel like he really needs me as much as I needed him.
“Then you’ll have to teach me Russian someday.” He raises both eyebrows with an amused expression. “That way I’ll be able to read everything you’ve written.” I say, remembering that notebook full of things I found on his desk. Although, well, that’s what the internet is for.
“It’s getting late,” he says, pushing our bodies onto the bed and then covering us with the sheets.