Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
Varlam
The night the dinner ended, I started hearing more and more discordant voices.
Pavel's remnants were plotting to overthrow me, drag everyone into what they called bloodthirsty violence. I wouldn't let that happen.
If conventional methods could make people submit, I'd give them a chance. If not, I'd make those voices disappear. I'd already killed Pavel, yet they still didn't know when to back down. Time to shut them up.
Over the next few days, I swept through these bastards with brutal efficiency. The world finally went quiet, but remembering what the fuck I'd done at that dinner only made me more irritable. The moment I'd said Briony was my woman, I knew I'd lost control.
I sat in my study, yanked at my collar, leaned back in my chair, thinking that uncomfortable feeling of losing control might ease up. It didn't.
I closed my eyes. Briony's face appeared instantly. She stood under the dinner lights in that apricot dress, blonde hair falling over her shoulders, curves wrapped in fabric. When I'd pulled her close, champagne sweetness mixed with her lemon scent, pressed against my breath, sinking into my lungs.
My body tensed immediately.
"Fuck." I opened my eyes and downed a glass of whiskey.
I shouldn't be like some kid who'd just gotten his first taste of a woman, rock hard in the middle of the night just because I hadn't seen her in a few days. But the body doesn't listen to reason.
My hand moved down my abdomen, imagining that gorgeous body right in front of me. She lay on the bed, legs pressed together, then spread apart by me. Her sex exposed, inviting me inside.
She always did this, drew me closer. But I knew damn well I should keep her at a distance. The thought barely surfaced before my body was already imagining her hands, her lips, the heat when she clenched around me.
I tightened my grip, breathing deepened. I needed Briony now.
The thought made me freeze for a second. I looked down at myself, suddenly finding this whole solo act ridiculous.
She was mine. And she was only minutes away. I wanted her. Why the hell was I sitting here suffering?
I got up immediately, headed downstairs, drove toward that place I'd never set foot in if it wasn't for Briony.
When the car stopped below that old apartment building, the whole street was too quiet.
Most windows upstairs were dark, only a sliver of warm light showing through the gap in Briony's curtains.
She was still awake. That fact made my blood pump faster.
After I knocked a few times lightly, her voice came from behind the door, cautious.
"Who is it?"
"It's me."
Silence for two seconds.
Then rustling sounds, the lock pulled open, just a crack. Briony's face appeared. She wore loose pajamas, blonde hair tied back carelessly, a few strands falling along her face.
"Varlam." She frowned, lowered her voice. "Do you know what time it is?"
"You greeting me with that?" I didn't answer, looked at the baseball bat in her hand.
She seemed to suddenly realize she was still holding the bat, quickly set it aside.
"Sorry." She opened the door completely. "We don't usually get visitors this late around here."
But I wasn't listening. I stared at her lips, that fire that'd been burning me instantly out of control. I stepped inside, shut the door behind me, cupped the back of her neck, kissed her. Her gasp got swallowed back down her throat.
The first second, she froze completely, hands pushing against my chest. Then she went soft, fingers curling to grip my shirt.
Her body wanted me too. I pried her lips open with my tongue, tasted faint mint.
She tilted her head back to take it, breathing more and more ragged, body instinctively pressing closer.
I held her waist, lifted her off the ground.
"Rory's sleeping." She quickly lowered her voice, but her legs were already wrapped around my waist.
"Then you better keep quiet." I carried her toward the room she pointed to.
The bedroom door closed behind me. I laid her on the bed, pressed my body down again.
Her lips parted under mine, and I swallowed the small sound she made. My hands moved to the thin fabric of her pajamas, yanking it up and over her head. No bra underneath—just soft, full breasts spilling into my palms. I groaned against her mouth.
"Fuck, Briony."
She arched into my touch, but bit down on her lip to keep quiet. That restraint made everything hotter. I wanted to hear her. Needed to hear her lose control.
My mouth moved down her throat, teeth scraping over her collarbone. She gasped, fingers digging into my shoulders. I took one nipple into my mouth, sucked hard, and felt her whole body jerk beneath me.
"Varlam." My name came out strangled, barely a whisper.
"Louder," I growled against her skin.
She shook her head, pressed her hand over her mouth. I smiled—dark, hungry. If she wanted to play it that way, I'd make it impossible.
I stripped off my shirt, then worked her pajama bottoms down her thighs. She kicked them off, and I spread her legs wide, settling between them. She was already wet—soaked, actually—and the sight made my cock throb painfully against my zipper.
I ran two fingers through her folds, circling her clit, and her hips bucked. She threw an arm over her face, trying to muffle the sounds escaping her throat.
"Look at you," I murmured, pushing one finger inside. She clenched around me instantly, tight and hot. "So fucking perfect."
She whimpered, and I added a second finger, curling them just right. Her thighs trembled. I could feel how badly she wanted to cry out, how hard she was fighting it. That made me push deeper, faster, until her whole body was shaking.
"You're gonna come just from this, aren't you?"
She nodded frantically, hand still pressed over her mouth. I pulled my fingers out.
"Not yet."
Her eyes flew open, glazed and furious. I smirked, unbuckled my belt, and shoved my pants down. My cock sprang free, and her gaze dropped, eyes widening slightly. I wrapped my hand around myself, stroked slowly, just to watch her reaction.
"Want it?"
She nodded again, reaching for me. I caught her wrists, pinned them above her head with one hand.
"Then you're gonna have to be very, very quiet."
I lined myself up, rubbed the head of my cock through her wetness. She was panting now, lips parted, eyes locked on mine. I pushed in—just the tip—and nearly lost it right there. She was so tight, so fucking tight I could barely breathe.
"Jesus Christ," I gritted out.
She wrapped her legs around my waist, urging me deeper. I sank in slowly, every inch a test of my control. Her walls clenched around me, and I had to stop, forehead pressed against hers, just to keep from coming like a teenager.
"Relax," I muttered.
"I'm trying," she whispered back, breathless.
I kissed her, deep, slow, distracting, and felt her body ease just enough. I pulled back, then thrust in fully, and she cried out against my mouth. I swallowed the sound, started moving. Long, deep strokes that had her nails raking down my back.
The bed creaked beneath us, loud, rhythmic, unmistakable. She froze.
"Varlam, the bed..."
"Don't care," I growled, driving into her harder.
"But Rory—"
"Then stop moaning."
She bit her lip so hard I thought she'd draw blood. But her body betrayed her—hips rolling to meet my thrusts, pussy clenching every time I hit that spot deep inside. I angled my hips, changed the rhythm, and her back arched off the mattress.
"Fuck, right there!" She caught herself, slapped a hand over her mouth again.
I grinned, leaned down to her ear. "Right there? You like it when I fuck you deep like this?"
She nodded frantically, eyes squeezed shut.
"When I stretch this tight little pussy until you can't think straight?"
Another nod. Her breathing was coming in short, desperate gasps now.
I thrust harder, deeper, felt her whole body tense. "You're close, aren't you?"
She nodded again, and I could feel it—the way her walls fluttered around me, the way her thighs tightened around my waist. I reached between us, found her clit, rubbed tight circles.
She came apart. Silently, beautifully, completely. Her mouth opened in a soundless scream, body convulsing beneath mine. The way she clenched around me nearly dragged me over the edge, but I gritted my teeth, held on.
Not yet.
I pulled out—she whimpered at the loss—and flipped her onto her stomach. I wanted to see that gorgeous ass, wanted to grab those soft hips and fuck her until she forgot her own name.
"Varlam..."
I didn't let her finish. I pulled her hips up, pushed back inside in one smooth thrust. From this angle, I went even deeper, and she buried her face in the pillow to muffle her cry.
I gripped her hips—so fucking soft, my fingers sank right in—and set a brutal pace. The bed protested loudly, headboard thumping against the wall. She reached back, tried to push against my thigh.
"Slower," she gasped. "Please, too much!"
"Slower won't satisfy you.
I leaned over her back, one hand wrapping around to toy with her clit while I kept pounding into her. Her breathing hitched, turned ragged.
"That's it," I murmured against her shoulder. "Take it. Take all of it."
She was trying so hard to stay quiet, and that restraint was driving me insane. I wanted to break her, wanted to hear her scream my name and not give a damn who heard.
"You feel so fucking good," I growled in her ear. "So tight. So wet. You were made for my cock, weren't you?"
She nodded, whimpered, bit down on the pillow.
"Say it."
She shook her head.
I stopped moving. "Say it, or I stop."
"Yes," she whispered desperately. "Yes, please, don't stop—"
I pulled out completely.
"Varlam!"
"Come here." I lay back on the bed, pulled her toward me. "Sit on my face."
Her eyes went wide. "What?"
"You heard me." I'd been wanting to do this since the first time I tasted her. "Now."
She hesitated, cheeks flushed, then slowly moved up my body. I gripped her thighs, positioning her right over my mouth.
"I've never—"
"You have now." I pulled her down.