CHAPTER TEN #2
Sergei mutters a curse under his breath and raises up on his knees, seizing the undersides of my thighs.
He pins them to my chest, folding me in half.
I clench my abs, my whimpers like a metronome as he drives into me and hits me so deep that my toes curl.
I just want him to fuck me hard, give me this feeling that no one else can, and leave me a drenched mess 10 times over.
Soon, my breaths become staccatos and my mouth falls open in desperation.
“Are you glad I brought you home with me?” his heavenly voice rumbles above me. “To claim you as mine?”
I can only nod haphazardly because he’s hitting me at the perfect angle with his perfect cock.
“You’re not going to leave, are you?” he asks through clenched teeth, his thighs hitting my ass with each thrust.
“No!” It tumbles out of my mouth in a half-crazed voice.
“No?” he asks with an edge, his chest heaving with anticipation.
“No!”
My pussy clenches, the orgasm coming fast and hard.
No matter how hard my thighs push against his hands, they stay hopelessly pinned at my shoulders while an enraptured cry erupts from my throat.
A moment later, he lets out a groan and presses his fingers so hard into my flesh that they’ll probably leave bruises.
And I’ll cherish every single one. I’ve never come from penetration alone, but whatever he’s doing is rewriting everything up to this point.
Sergei reaches over my head and I can’t see what he does, but suddenly my hands are free with a pop. They fall from the headboard and fly to his shoulders, clinging to him desperately as he sinks down on top of me. His breathing slows and his movements feel like waves on a beach.
“Sergei…Sergei…” His name rolls off my breath to the same cadence.
He brushes his lips along my forehead. “Yes, Printsessa?”
“I’m awake now.” Then a tranquil smile tugs at my mouth as I stroke the coarse hair on his cheek. “And breakfast sounds really good.”
●●●
Sergei looks different now—but in a good way.
He sets down a mug of coffee next to my plate and takes the seat adjacent. And, this time, when he looks at me over the table, it doesn’t feel like he’s examining me under a bell jar. He even smiles.
“Do you have to go to work?” I ask, unable to completely hide my impending disappointment.
“No. I’ll stay with you today.”
The excitement hits me like a rogue wave and, without a second thought, I rise on my knee and lean over the table, wearing only one of his thermal shirts.
He gently cups the side of my face and draws me to him for a kiss.
I like kissing Sergei; not just in the passionate way that turns me to a puddle beneath him, but in the casual way that still seems so intimate.
Anyway, I should’ve known as soon as Sergei sat down that he wasn’t going into work.
When he does, his hair is pulled back into a slick, tight bun.
He looks sleek and sharp, dressed all in black--quite literally a lethal weapon.
But when he doesn’t, his glossy blonde hair is either hanging loose or pulled back into the French braids he had when I saw him at the airport for the first time.
After a few days, I’ve started to pick up on his mannerisms and routines.
“What exactly do you do, anyway?” I ask, settling back into my seat.
“Consulting. Private security, private investigation, and OPSEC audits, for example.”
“What are OPSEC audits?” I ask, taking a bite of a cheese pancake topped with sour cream and blueberry jam.
He can’t always cook like this, can he? Is his Russian mother hidden in the closet with a knife, secretly cooking at the crack of dawn and ready to stab me if I dare slight her delicacies?
Get a grip, Halsey.
“People invite us to their properties,” Sergei explains. “We evaluate their security measures, and then produce a report that tells them whether or not we would be able to gain access and kill them.”
He senses my surprise as I stop mid-chew.
“It’s very popular in the mountains,” he adds.
I swallow hard. “Sounds like you’ve tapped into a pretty niche industry.” Then I gesture around the room. “So, what about this place? If you’re the expert, can anyone—” or anything… “get in here without you knowing?”
“Nothing.” He says it without hesitation and without any apparent concern.
“Then what’s outside?” I demand over my plate of cakes smeared with creamy blueberry goodness. “There’s something. I saw it. And it’s the same thing that left the prints in the snow and the same thing that tried to open the door before you got home.”
“I know there is.”
I blink. “What?”
“You’re safe here.” His voice is calm but resolute. “Just don’t open the door if I’m not here.”
“You mean there’s some creepy man skulking around your property? What for?”
“I wouldn’t call it a man.”
Is he serious right now?
“I thought you said there aren’t any werewolves here!”
“There aren’t.”
Of course I went straight to cryptids. I’m sure I sound nothing short of delusional now.
“Sorry,” I roll my eyes, “Sasquatch, yeti, the abominable snowman...”
“That’s Russia,” he deadpans, clearly enjoying my anxiety.
“Whatever!” I snarl. “You said you had no reason to lie to me, so please tell me what I’ve been seeing—but not seeing.”
Sergei glances across the room absently, considering whether to tell me whatever horror story I’ve been preparing for. Finally, his eyes wander back to me.
“It hasn’t been here long,” he begins. “It showed up on my cameras recently and I’ve been hunting it since then. I haven’t gotten a really good look yet, just a dark shape,” he says with narrowed eyes. “But it won’t be long until it’s no longer a threat.”
I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding since Sergei started to speak.
So, even he doesn’t know what it is, but he’s planning on killing it—soon.
I’m not a fan of hunting, but at this point, I hope Sergei puts a bullet in the skull of whatever’s been creeping around here and then sets it on fire.
“OK,” I sigh, not knowing what else to say on the matter.
“Any more concerns?” he asks, taking a sip from his mug.
“Yes, actually.”
Cryptids, wild animals, and prowlers aside, there’s something that’s been tugging at the back of my mind since getting out of bed this morning, something that’s cast a pall over this strange but exciting fantasy I’ve found myself in.
The buzzkill of the real world always finds a way in.
“Um…” Put your big girl panties on, Halsey. “When was the last time you were tested for sexually transmitted infections?”
I’m usually so responsible. I don’t mess around with birth control, and I also don’t go bareback with men whose sexual histories I’m not familiar with. Was I so caught up in the moment that I just forgot to demand he use a condom? That’s so unlike me.
“I have never been tested,” Sergei replies with utter indifference.
My thighs clench, but not in the good way.
“Then how do you know you don't have an STI?” I practically whine.
“Because you're the only woman I've ever had sex with.”
All the air leaves the room…as well as my lungs.
What the ever-loving fuck?
“OK,” I finally croak. “Um, well, in that case, I don’t have any, either. Just so you know.”
“I know.”
I knit my brow. “How do you know?”
“Because now that I know you better, I know how—”
“Neurotic I am?” I interject.
“Responsible you are.”
“OK, fine, I’ll accept that. But, really?” I try not to sound too shocked, bordering on offensive. “I’m…your first?”
“I told you. You're the only woman I've brought up here.”
“What about a man?” He can't trick me by omission.
But Sergei only gives a nonchalant shake of his head. I believe he’s telling me the truth. But even so, his revelation triggers a tiny hint of suspicion.
“That's kind of uncommon.” I try to choose my words carefully. “Not that there's anything wrong with it. I just...don't encounter it often.”
I need to find out if he's some closet incel, but not at the risk of offending him and turning him off completely. I don’t think he is, I don’t get that vibe, but I was nearly tricked before. Now, I don't want to get my hopes up.
“You want to know if there's something wrong with me.”
“That's not what I mean.”
It's exactly what I mean.
He shoots me a pointed look.
"OK, fine, yes. But not in the offensive way. Like I said, you're this Russian giant who’s chiseled like marble with stunning eyes and perfect cheekbones and better hair than any man or woman I've ever met.”
Part of me can't believe I'm telling him this. I probably sound like a cringey nag, sitting here patronizing him. But how has he never had sex with another human? I guess his reasons are his own and, aside from protecting my own health and well-being, it’s none of my business.
“Are you finished flattering me?”
“Almost,” I retort. “My point being, how have you not had women and men trying to get in your pants?”
“I have.”
“And your biological urges never compromised your self-control?”
“My biological urge is to find someone I’ll never have to leave.”
All the air leaves the room—again—and suddenly it makes sense.
Being forced to leave his home, losing Evie, spending years in the tundra with Colson, helping Dallas bring him back home, then following Colson and the rest of the Lutzes to Colorado.
When Sergei finds his people, he doesn't let them go.
Why should finding a partner be any different? He just does it…differently.
“When you say never leave, do you mean…”
“I mate for life,” he replies. “I don't get close to many people.” That's an understatement. “And I know who I want and who I don't.”
The implication of his statement sends goosebumps skittering over my shoulders and down my back. But it’s not fear, evident by how quickly a satisfying warmth seeps into my chest.
“But you’ve had girlfriends—or boyfriends—right?”
“Yes, I’ve had girlfriends. Nothing serious.”
And none of them that warranted telling Colson about.