Chapter Twenty
In which administering first aid has never been more rewarding.
Nikandr…
In the sterile light of the safe house bathroom Caroline cleans me up, matter-of-factly. "I can see a clear exit hole," she says. "You're lucky. I'm not particularly skilled in digging out bullets."
She's not delicate with the stitches, either, but she is quick and efficient.
"You've done this before," I observe.
Her hands slow for a moment. "I did. I used to patch my brothers up." I wait, but it doesn't seem like there's anything else she's going to share as she finishes the last stitch.
"What happened with your brothers," I say gently, "doesn't change the fact that they were your family. You still remember them as babies, as children that you had to look after, yes? When your parents died, I'm sure the responsibility you felt was crippling."
She pauses, very carefully tying off the last stitch. Her eyes are wide, looking into mine is as if she's trying to read me. "If Andrey betrayed your family, do you think you could forgive him?"
Spraying the disinfectant on my wound, she pulls a bandage out of the kit, covering the stitches.
"I don't know how to answer that," I say honestly. "I suspect that you didn't either. I can't imagine a world where my brother would do such a thing."
Her gaze moves away, and she steps back. I can feel the distance between us widening again. Taking her hand, I lace my fingers with hers. "It doesn't change the fact that you have every right to miss them, every right to grieve for them."
I duck my head to catch her gaze again. "I learned enough, watching Liria have to pay her for her father's sins, over and over, most specifically, with Alexsey, to know that it was a terrible thing to do. And I wouldn't do that to you. You're not on trial here. You've done nothing wrong."
The primary reaction I tend to get from my new wife is fury, but now those beautiful eyes well up with tears, one crystalline drop goes down her cheek. I catch it with my finger and put it in my mouth.
"It's hard to see you cry." I admit.
Another tear drips down her cheek, and I lean forward, cup the back of her head, and press my lips against the drop, kissing it away.
Then another one, and another, until her arms go around my neck and she angles her head so that her mouth meets mine in a messy kiss, her tongue eagerly poking through my lips with a slight moan.
She presses hard against me. I don't know why she wants me after everything that’s happened, but I'm fucking taking it.
I wrap my arms around her and spin, seating her on the bathroom counter, pushing her dress up, it's tight, and she lifts her ass, helping me.
Then I spread her legs. Wide. I kiss her again, my lips move down her throat, between her breasts.
The skin there is silky soft, the smooth swell of her breast is too tempting, I bite it softly as my fingers pinch her nipple and twist.
"Oh! That's…" My wife's gasp is breathy, a pretty sound and I bite her nipple, just to hear it again.
My approach is not smooth. I'm too greedy now for finesse, I crouch down and rip her panties loose with two tugs, she doesn't even wince at the red welt rising up on her hip.
I toss her legs over my shoulders and put my mouth against her pussy in a filthy, sloppy kiss.
Her head hits the mirror with a clunk, and she blurts out, "Oh god, Nikandr! "
I would keep my face between her legs for the rest of my life to hear her moan my name again. I lick her, spreading her lips apart and running my tongue from her opening to her clit, sucking it between my lips and tugging, tickling that tiny bundle of nerves with the tip of my tongue.
"Ihatethatyou'resogoodatthis…"
It comes out in a jumble, but I get the message and my shoulders shake in silent laughter as I alternate long flat, licks with my tongue with gentle nips and bites until one of her hands goes into my hair, gripping tight.
My hand shoves on the small of her back, bringing her closer to me, the goddamn sweet smell of her slick, the warmth of her pussy, her little moans, and helpless gaps.
What she's giving me is an entirely new language and fuck, I want keep hearing it.
Sliding two fingers inside her, I press my wet mouth against her stomach and push my fingers against the silky wall of her cunt. "I can feel your pulse. Here." I press harder. "I can feel my fingers massage that rough little patch inside you, the one that makes you tighten down on me."
My exquisite wife gasps, her hand fisting in my hair, it stings like I'm going to be missing a fistful of it later.
I don't care. She's trying to squeeze her knees together, but my shoulders keep them apart and I pull my lips away just long enough to say, "You're not going anywhere until you come for me. So, do it. Now."
As if she's been waiting for permission, she does, her back arching, her legs stiff and her pussy…
Nothing tastes like this. Nothing feels this way.
I can feel the silky muscles inside her, clenching and pulsing against my fingers, and my cock is so hard it's ripping through my goddamn zipper.
I stand up, yanking my pants open and her eyes open enough to see my cock, hard as concrete, the tip already dripping.
Caroline deliberately wraps her legs around my waist, her heels pushing against the small of my back, and I grin, notching the head of my cock inside her, feeling the little pulses from her orgasm.
"Do you want this, Plokhoy kot, my bad cat?" Her pretty pink lips open, she can't find the words but she nods vigorously.
I slam inside her. Not all the way, half of my cock is still out and somehow, that's hot as fuck and I keep pushing and thrusting until I'm shoved all the way, buried deep. Pulling back, I cram back into her pussy, harder, she gets wetter and it's easier.
"You're so fucking good for me," I say. "You take me so well.
" Her eyes close and I grab her jaw. "Don't look away.
" Her eyes are hazy. "Your mouth is soft, softer than I've ever tasted.
There is nothing more perfect than you, Plokhoy kot.
Filthy, scratching, the sweet tightness of you inside, like a silky fist. Fuck! "
Putting my forehead against hers, I close my eyes for a minute, forcing myself to breathe. Our chests heave together; I breathe in as she breathes out. She impatiently pulls my bloody shirt open, her hard nipples press against my chest.
"I can feel your pulse," she moans. "You're so deep I can feel it throb."
I don't know if she's going to recover her sanity tomorrow, but I'm taking this moment now.
For both of us. Kissing her, my cheek against hers and I whisper, "You've been waiting for this, haven't you?
Just waiting for me to shove my fat dick inside you so you could arch your back and moan so pretty when you come.
Let me break you wide open." I thrust harder, relishing how her pussy grips me.
"There is nothing like the feel of you."
There is a dark curl of pleasure flowing through my veins, I growl, biting her earlobe as she scratches my back and runs her fingers over my chest. She pinches one of my nipples and I laugh, reaching up and doing the same to her.
We stare at each other, each of us with a firm grip on the other's nipple and fucking furiously.
"It's a standoff, hmm? Neither one of us can look away or let go.
" In the mirror's reflection, I watch myself slam into her, how her body jolts, how she laughs, breathless and half-insane.
"You need to come right now, wife. I want you to come hard, I want to feel you grip me and come out of me like you did that night in the elevator because nothing has ever felt that way. "
I pull her clit between my fingers, tugging her nipple at the same time and she breaks with a hoarse little cry, pushing her heels against my ass hard, so much that my thrusts become shorter and harder, most of me buried inside her.
She's never been more beautiful. Her green eyes, her wet mouth open, her skin lightly sheened with sweat.
"So fucking beautiful," I growl, "So fucking pretty, so soft…"
Until she twists my nipple again roughly and pulls me close for a kiss. "Your turn now," she whispers, "and if you fuck me hard enough, I'll come again with you."
I pull back until just the tip is inside her, and bury inside her with a brutal thrust. "Challenge accepted." It only takes three more strokes in her slick, gorgeous pussy before I come. Teeth gritted, every muscle tense, and I roar my finish into her kiss.
The bathroom comes back into focus, my grip on her thighs, her back against the mirror. Pulling my hands away slowly, I kiss her. "You're going to have bruises tomorrow," I say, lightly stroking the red marks.
My bride lets out that little, wild laugh again.
"Good."