66. Octavia
After twenty-four hours of tense planning, we’ve finally managed to work out a strategy with half a chance at succeeding.
Vasiliy is going to be the one to take Mom’s passage to rescue Kirill.
He practically demanded the role, saying the only way he’d allow me to walk into that house alone is if he gets to be the first to come after me.
I know he isn’t happy with me. Even now, as we walk up the steps to our old room, I can feel his quiet ire. He doesn’t want me to put myself in danger, but it’s the only way we’ll pull this off. I need our plan to work. Dad is already lost. I can’t live in a reality without Kirill as well.
When our room door clicks shut, I turn.
“I need you not to be mad at me for this.”
“I’m not mad at you,” he says with a sigh. “I’m mad at the situation. And I’m straight up pissed with all of those fuckers downstairs.”
“Why is that?”
“Because they’re all fine with using you!”
“Vas—”
“It’s unacceptable. They have no respect for what you’ve been through. No appreciation for what you’ve brought them.”
I step closer, brushing my hand down the side of his neck. “They’re grieving, Vasiliy.”
“And so are you!” His hands frame either side of my cheeks. “You have lost just as much, if not more, and you’re forced to swallow your grief as well as their dissent—”
“It’s okay, baby,” I whisper, pressing my lips to the corner of his.
“You know, you’re the reason I’m capable of shouldering it all.
I’m stealing your strength in your sleep.
In fact, every time you find some reason to touch me, I’m stealing the dregs of your resolve just to remain upright and functioning. ”
His grip on the back of my neck pulls me closer, and he kisses a line from my chin down to my collarbone.
“You can have every last drop. I am your pawn.”
“No.” With desperate movements, my top peels off below his searching hands. “You are my king.”
His laugh tickles between the valley of my breasts, and he soothes the tingle with a reverent kiss. “I’m a queen at best.”
“And why is that?”
Suddenly, I’m lifted into the air. My legs wrap around his hips. His lips find the sensitive skin below my ear.
“Because at some point in the game, there comes a time when you must sacrifice the queen to protect the sanctity of the king.” He pulls back, and the look in his deep blue eyes steals my next breath. “You are my king, moya zlaya. I would sacrifice myself a thousand times over to keep you safe.”
Something snaps in my chest at those maddening words. My lips crash against his. He meets my feverish kiss head-on, matching every stroke of my tongue with the same level of need.
“I’ve known you were mine since you woke me in that cage with my belt wrapped around my neck,” he says, rocking me against his hardness in the perfect rhythm.
My thighs are already sticky from the friction.
“Or, actually,” he counters, walking us toward the bed.
“Maybe it was the first sight I caught of you dancing in the very back of the stage.”
He tosses me onto the mattress, and I’ve barely bounced once before he’s on me again, tugging down the waist of my pants with urgency. “Or maybe it was even earlier. Maybe I was always supposed to go to New York—”
“You are a realist,” I say with a laugh, clawing at his shirt. I need it off. I need his hot skin below my palms. “You don’t believe in fate.”
He grins, helping me remove it. “I’m not a realist anymore. I’m an addict.”
When my pants are finally off, he sinks to his knees on the floor in front of the bed and wraps his inked hands around my thighs. All it takes is one tug for him to pull me to the end of the mattress and thread my legs around his head.
“Tell me you love me.”
With his warm breath on my inner thigh and his hands spreading me wide, there are too many sensations to process his question right away. It’s only when I feel the shock of his punishing nip on my hip that I remember to answer.
“I love you.”
The bite is soothed with a kiss. “Good girl. Tell me you’re mine.”
“I’m yours.” His mouth is so close to where I need him most. My mind short-circuits, cutting out everything but the need for his lips to close around my clit.
“Tell me you’re going to follow the plan tomorrow. That you’ll leave through the passage as soon as the fighting starts.”
The words threaten to pull me from the euphoria. I’m not entirely surprised that Vas saw through my front. He’s always seen what others don’t. Still, I can’t give him the whole truth he’s requesting. Not yet.
“I’ll follow the plan.”
He yanks me even closer, so that my pussy aligns perfectly with his face. Yes. His lips close. My spine jolts into the shape of an S when he sucks my clit between his teeth.
Stars. I cry out, lost to the coil of tension.
“That’s right,” he says, alternating between licks and sucks.
Two of his fingers begin to nudge at my entrance.
“And I’ll be right behind you the entire time.
” Without any preparation, those fingers suddenly thrust into me.
My back arches to accommodate the fullness.
“I’ll make sure you still feel me with every step you take towards that soon-to-be-dead asshole he’s promised you to. ”
His fingers press in deep at the same time as he gives my clit a brutal suck, causing a moan to rip free from my throat. I’m already chasing the beginning sparks of an orgasm when he pulls back. No. I groan in disappointment, trying to pull his face back into me.
“And I will be the one to end that bastard’s life,” he promises, meeting my gaze. “It’ll be a slow burn. He’ll spend days regretting the sin of trying to take you from me.”
“Stop planning your murders between my legs.” I press my thighs to either side of his head in an effort to trap him there. His hands only tighten my clasp, burying his mouth and nose into my center like he’s more than happy to suffocate there.
It only takes a few more swipes of his tongue to drive my orgasm back up to the top of the cliff. My breaths are shallow puffs as his fingers find the roof of my inner pussy and rub the sensitive skin there. Suddenly, I’m no longer on the edge of the cliff. I’m falling.
And it’s not a gentle fall. There’s no fucking parachute to slow the descent. All I see are flickers of color, and all I feel is him.
“That’s right, moya zlaya.” He’s already climbing up my body and wedging his arm below my ribs to pull me further up the mattress. “You look so pretty when you come all over my fingers.”
“I…” My words fail. I think I’m still recovering from the back-breaking orgasm I just had.
“You always need more, don’t you?” he asks, yanking down his pants. “You need my cock like you need your next breath.”
“Yes,” I plead, threading my hand between our chests. My fingers wrap around his thick length and squeeze. “Please.”
He groans at my ministrations, lifting his hand to his lips.
Those two fingers he thrust into me glisten with my release, and I can’t look away as he sucks them into his mouth like they’re his favorite flavor.
I pull his dick to my wet center and slide his entire length back and forth against me.
The friction relights my desperation like a match.
“Taste yourself in my mouth,” he whispers, pressing his tongue between my lips. I suck my own tangy flavor with a filthy thrill.
“See how good we taste together?”
I hum, lining him up between my pussy lips. His head notches at my entrance in the cruelest tease. Right when I’m about to start begging, he thrusts balls-deep into me in one motion. My next breath turns into a choke.
“That’s my girl,” he says, drawing a finger down the side of my face in the gentlest touch. He’s still pressed so far into me, I can’t think. “You take me so fucking well.”
Suddenly, the world twists. He flips me onto my stomach, only to settle on top of me and thrust back in. He’s even deeper with this angle. I feel him everywhere.
Then he starts to move. His massive torso settles over my upper back, pressing me even further into the mattress with every thrust. I’ve never felt so consumed. So safe. I’m so high, I could conquer anything. I could survive a bullet. I could win a war.
All it takes is for his hand to slip beneath my hips and brush my clit for the peak to hit, and this one crashes impossibly harder than the last. His crazed movements and hot spurts only drive the feeling harder. He comes when he’s thrust deep inside me, settling over my body in a protective cage.
But as we lie stacked together, fighting to catch our breaths, a string of guilt pulls inside my ribcage. I promised him I’d follow the plan tomorrow, but I never promised that I’d leave through the passage. I only hope he can find it in himself to forgive the small omission.