Chapter 41
Rei Kurosaki
I sat across from Ilya in the corner while he stared at me like a hawk. It was very uncomfortable, to be honest. So I decided to break the silence.
“Are you planning to talk?”
Ilya’s mouth twitched.
“You don’t look like your brother.”
Oh? That was why he was staring at me?
I arched an eyebrow. “Yeah. I take after my dad. He takes after our mother.”
Ilya nodded once, like the universe had just been explained to him. “Makes sense. Since he’s a bitch.”
Then he actually seemed to remember manners existed.
“…Sorry.”
“You take a lot of interest in him.”
That landed. Ilya’s eyes narrowed. The spinning of the knife picked up speed. He seemed agitated. He looked genuinely offended, like I had just accused him of something.
“Interest?” he snapped, scoffing. “I don’t have any interest. I just notice things.
Like how your brother’s a whore who can’t keep it in his pants.
Always runs around like a bitch in heat, and his face is fucking annoying.
That smug little pretty-boy smirk he does.
Pisses me off just looking at it. Thinks he’s cute.
Drives me up the goddamn wall. And what the fuck is up with his eyes?
Why does he have black eyes? He looks like a goddamn cat, the one that brings you misfortune.
I have seen dark eyes before, but he looks like fucking Satan. ”
His words came out fast and crude, like he could not stop them once they started. Then he seemed to hear himself. He cleared his throat, like he was trying to shove the whole rant back down.
That was… interesting.
“That’s a lot of information for someone who doesn’t have any interest.”
He did not get to answer. His phone buzzed against the table. He snatched it up, glanced at the screen, and answered.
“Yeah.”
He listened. “Your man’s here.”
The call ended. Knives vanished somewhere inside his jacket like they had never been there.
“Time for me to yeet,” he said. “Nice talking to you.”
Then he was gone.
Dimitri came a few moments later.
His eyes were wild. He did not even say hi. He just threw himself onto the bed and crashed into me. He pinned me down, chest to chest, and his mouth was on mine before I could even suck in air.
His tongue shoved past my lips like he needed to taste every part of me or die trying. Teeth caught my bottom lip, and I groaned into his mouth.
I managed to tear my mouth away, gasping. “Dimitri—is everything okay?”
He shook his head and dove back in, his tongue fucking into my mouth. One hand slid under the hem of my shirt, shoving the fabric up until it bunched under my arms. He broke the kiss to yank the shirt over my head and toss it somewhere on the floor.
His mouth went to my throat as he started marking me.
“Dim—wait,” I panted, trying to catch his wrist as his fingers hooked into the waistband of my sweats. “I’m still sore—”
I was. He had fucked me three times last night.
He lifted his head. “You’re gonna be okay,” he rasped. “You can take it.”
Before I could argue again, he tugged my sweats and briefs down, then stripped his own shirt off and shoved his jeans and boxers down. He kicked everything off the rest of the way and climbed back over me.
He kissed down my chest, biting at my nipples until they ached, then lower.
When he reached my cock, he did not hesitate.
He just swallowed me down in one motion.
I cried out, one hand flying to his hair as he sucked hard, cheeks hollowing, taking me to the back of his throat.
His free hand slid between my legs, fingers pressing behind my balls to rub at my hole.
I was still slick from last night. He worked one thick finger in, then added a second, scissoring and stretching me while his tongue lapped at the head of my cock.
When he finally pulled his fingers free, lubed himself up, and lined up, the head of his cock pressing against my hole, he paused. He looked me dead in the eyes.
“Still with me?”
I nodded, reaching down to grab his ass and pull him closer. “Yeah. Fuck me. Please.”
He pushed in until the head popped past the tight ring and he was sinking deep. The stretch burned. My sore body protested, but the fullness was so good I moaned like a whore. He bottomed out with a groan, forehead pressed to mine.
“Fuck—tight. So fucking tight,” he panted, starting to move. He hooked one of my knees over his elbow, opening me wider, and started fucking me in earnest with strokes that had the headboard slamming against the wall.
My hands clawed at his back, leaving red lines. “Yes—fuck, yes—harder—”
He gave it to me. He plunged into me over and over again until I shattered. My hole clenched around him and he followed, burying himself to the hilt and pumping me full of his cum.
He was still inside me. He kissed me softer now while his hand stroked my hair.
“Are you okay?” he whispered.
I nodded, boneless and wrecked. “Yeah. Better than okay.”