Chapter 18 Kira
KIRA
I’m bone tired when I get back to the house after my shift. I lurk out front, uncomfortable with just going right inside. But it’s my place too, right?
I chew my lip. Gem’s back at the apartment. She’s safe and sound. I’m not worried about her. I could go stay there too, but I have a feeling Stellan will like it more if I’m here tonight.
Since when do I care what he wants?
“Screw it,” I mutter and storm into the house. Stellan’s security system uses biometrics and it clicks open when I touch the handle.
The interior’s dim. But I get why Gem loves the place.
It’s absolutely beautiful. There’s a big bay window overlooking the front street and lots of gleaming wood.
The panels must’ve been lovingly carved a long time ago.
The carpets are rich and lush, and the floors make very soft creaking sounds.
I imagine years and years of feet treading these same paths over and over again.
Hard to see Stellan in this place. I expected something sleeker and more modern from him. Like a high-rise condo or whatever. Instead, this house reeks of history.
I feel a little strange standing all alone in the foyer, at least until I hear a noise upstairs.
I pause, listening closely, heart racing suddenly.
It’s the water running. And someone grunting with frustration.
Sighing, I start up the stairs. Somehow that grunt has become all too familiar. Despite my best efforts.
I find Stellan in the bathroom standing in front of the mirror.
His shirt is off and his pants look like they were dipped in a campfire.
He’s dabbing at minor cuts all over his neck and face, putting some kind of antiseptic on them.
He’s grimacing and looks like he’s right on the edge of killing someone.
“Is this going to be a pattern?” I ask.
He doesn’t react. I’m a little disappointed when I realize he knew I was there. “In what way?”
“You show up randomly at night and need medical care?”
“You might want to get used to it.”
I gently check his wounds. Nothing looks too bad, though the burn on his leg probably needs a real doctor. “I can’t really do much for you.”
“That’s fine. I don’t need stitches.”
“What happened?”
“You really don’t want to know.”
“Actually, I do.” I touch his bare shoulder. The muscle is thick and strong. I glance at his chest and run my eyes over the black, dangerous tattoos. Scars and puckered flesh litter his exposed torso. This is a man who is very used to pain.
“Someone tried to kill me. They didn’t do a good job.”
“I see that. What’d they use? A flamethrower?”
“Car bomb.”
“Oh. Right. Of course.” I try not to think about how this conversation isn’t making me gibber and scream with terror. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I appreciate the concern, but I’m fine.”
“Is there anything I can do to help?”
He glances at me. His stare is hard and hungry. That finally sets alarm bells ringing. But he only tightens his lips. “You can meet my family.”
“What is that going to do, exactly?”
“I’m in a unique situation.” He grunts when I dab antiseptic onto the worst of his cuts. “There is no leader of our organization. The council—”
“By leader, you mean there’s no Don of your mafia?”
“Yes, and stop interrupting me.”
I flick one of his cuts. “Don’t be a prick.”
He grunts, glares at me, and continues talking. “The council is willing to give me the position, just like my father wanted, but they need me to prove that I’m a good, long-term solution. Which means marriage.”
“Oh, great, now it makes sense. You need me to prove that you’re a responsible steward of your criminal gang.”
“More or less. But it gets worse.”
“Can’t imagine how, but go ahead.”
“There’s a conflict. Another organization has been pushing slowly onto our turf. But we’re currently weak because we have no official leader.”
“Which is why you’re pushing me so hard.” I step back to admire my handiwork. All his slices and nicks are disinfected and covered in little bandages. God, he really is attractive. The more I look at him, the more I think about that night in his car, and the more I think about that—
The more I really need to get the heck away from him.
But Stellan doesn’t put his shirt on. Instead, he sits on the edge of the tub and looks at his leg.
With a frustrated grunt, he finds an ointment in the cabinet and begins to apply it awkwardly.
I take over a second later with an aggrieved sigh, figuring it’s better if I do it than let him end up with an infection.
“The war won’t get close to you, in case you’re worried,” he says softly as my fingers trail along his calf.
I finish taping the bandage to his leg and look up.
I’m on my knees in front of him, and his eyes are surprisingly soft.
Normally, he’s looking at me like he wants to kill me. But not right now.
“How can you be so sure?”
“I promised to protect you and your sister. That’s what I’ll do.”
“Do gang wars usually follow strict rules? I have a feeling anyone close to you is going to end up a target.”
“Not you.” He reaches down and brushes my hair back. I should get the hell out of here. I should stand and run the hell away.
Instead, I lean closer. “If I had any sense at all, I’d be on the next flight out of the country. You realize that?”
“What would your sister do for college then?”
“I hear Europe’s pretty nice, actually.”
“You’d hate every second of it.”
“Why’s that? Free healthcare, free college—”
“But I’m not there.” He tugs me closer. I suck in a breath. I sit up further on my knees, my hands wrapping around his back and nails scraping down his spine. This is bad. This is very bad. I tilt my chin upwards.
“What makes you think that’s a selling point?”
“Right now, I can’t think of anything but your lips.”
“I have that power on weak-willed men.”
“You have that power on me too.” He leans down. His mouth brushes against mine. “Thank you for taking care of me.”
I whimper when he kisses me hard. Somewhere in the back of my head, an alarm klaxon is screaming run away, idiot, run away, idiot, but I snooze that sound and tumble into the bliss of his skin.
I don’t know how long I stay on my knees between his legs like that.
Seconds, hours, I can’t tell. He kisses me hungrily before standing and shoving me back against the vanity.
I gasp, arching into him, and he grabs my ass tightly to lift me up into a sitting position.
I roughly wrap my legs around his hips, pulling him closer as he yanks my shirt off and throws it aside.
His lips find my neck, my chest, and my bra comes sliding off before he licks my nipples and sucks them lightly.
“You know what I love?” he murmurs, fingers trailing down to my jeans. He flicks open the button.
“Pasta. Guns. Stealing from innocent people.”
“I love how much you pretend to hate me.” His fingers slip down the front of my jeans. “I love how angry you are at the world. Nothing’s fucking fair, right?”
“I never said that.”
“You don’t have to. I see it on every inch of you.” He strokes down and, god, it’s like heavenly bliss straight into my brainstem. All my hate vanishes. All my anger fades. I want him to finger me into pure freaking oblivion.
“I’m the most… well-adjusted girl… you’ve ever met.” I nip at his mouth. “Keep doing that.”
The only time he listens is when he’s touching my body, which could be worse, because he gives me what I want and keeps on stroking my clit.
“You’re a good person, Kira. But you deserve to feel good too.”
“Is that what you’re doing? Giving me what I deserve?”
“Oh, no. If I did that, your mouth would be stuffed with my cock and you’d be screaming out in bliss as you swallow every drop of my cum.”
My eyes go wide in shock. “Oh, my. That’s a dirty little fantasy.”
“It doesn’t have to be one.”
He pulls me off the vanity and tugs off my jeans.
I let him undress me. His pants come off next and I’m stroking his hard dick as we stumble together out to the bed.
This is my husband and this is our marriage room and we’re supposed to do this, right?
Even if this is a sham and we’re only in it for our own selfish reasons, this is okay, right?
Probably not. I really don’t care. Because he shoves me back roughly, eyes burning, and drops to his knees—right where he belongs. His mouth finds my pussy and he starts to devour me with a shocking and confident enthusiasm.
“Oh my fucking god,” I moan, arching into his mouth as his tongue laps at my clit. His fingers tease my pussy and slide inside. He’s extremely good at this and I feel like I’m going to crack into a million little brainless pieces. “Didn’t you nearly die tonight?”
“All the more reason.” He strokes my pussy with his fingers, gliding them in and out. “War’s coming for me. I’d better taste my new wife as often as I can.”
“Not married… yet. But don’t let that stop you.”
He snarls and moves up, kissing my breasts before pinning me down.
His boxer briefs come off and he spits into his hand, stroking his tip, getting himself wet.
I’m eager, scared, and beyond desperate for him to fill me to the brim and make me go blank with pleasure.
His cock teases my pussy as he shimmies up further onto the bed.
I stretch my arms above my head and he kisses my neck and breasts before sliding himself inside.
God, he’s so big. I gasp in shock and groan as he stretches me wide.
I push against the headboard, wrapping my legs around him tightly.
I want him deeper, as deep as he can go.
Vaguely, I’m aware that I don’t love this man, but what’s that matter when his dick makes me feel like my whole body’s made of light?
He strokes out and in again, and I moan his name.
“That’s my favorite sound in the world,” he whispers in my ear, fucking me deeper.
“You saying my name like that. Fuck, baby, you break me. You ruin me.” He rips into me, his muscles flexing as he fills me, and right as I’m skating on that line between life and death, he grips my hips and turns me around, shoving me face down on the bed.
He grips my hair and spreads my ass. His cock takes me from behind, filling my pussy to the brim as he leaves me on my belly.
I’m controlled, I’m all his, dominated and pinned to the mattress, and there’s nothing I can do but take every dangerous and perfect inch of his massive dick.
I whimper, arching and bucking back into him, until a hand cracks down on my ass, spanking me hard.
Pleasure and pain rocket into my skull. They bounce around together, mixing all the signals up.
“That’s a good girl, taking my big dick,” he snarls, spanking me again. “I want to fuck you until you forget all your smart comments. I want to spank you until that sassy fucking mouth of yours knows better.”
“Too bad that’ll never happen.” Even though I’m pretty sure it’s working. “You’re still just a big… fucking… prick.”
Another spank. And another. “You’re a pain in my ass.”
“You’re a selfish bastard.”
“You drive me fucking crazy.”
“You make me wish I’d never worked at that coffee place.”
He growls and fucks me hard, spanking me, pulling my hair. “You make me wish I had less self-control.”
I can’t take it anymore. I don’t have a comeback.
I don’t have anything at all but the bliss and the pain of him ripping into my pussy like a maniac.
I arch one last time as he pulls my hair, riding me and fucking me, and my pussy clenches down as one long word slips from my lips.
“Please,” I moan, low and slow. “Please, please, please.”
“Come for me, baby. Go ahead and come for me.”
I shatter to pieces and the bastard isn’t gentle about it.
No, he fucks me into oblivion and out the other side, and only when I’m shaking and trembling from the after-effects does he finally rip his cock from my pussy.
He shoves it into my mouth, gripping my hair, no commands or questions asked, and I suck him whimpering and moaning until he finishes on my tongue.
I swallow every drop and gasp for breath when it’s done.
We’re slick with sweat. It glistens on his ripped and torn skin. He looks incredible, almost too beautiful. I lie there like a lump, beyond ruined, aching all over, and so satisfied I could sleep for days.
“Call out of your shift tomorrow,” he murmurs.
“What?”
“You’re not washing dogs anymore. Call out. Tell them you quit.”
“Stellan—”
He grips me possessively and pulls me close against him. “My wife doesn’t wash dogs.”
“There’s nothing wrong with grooming.”
“I know that. But you don’t work yourself to the bone. Not while you’re mine.”
I chew my lip. Do I really want to give in to him like this? If I quit my jobs, what’ll happen when this inevitably goes wrong?
But I want to do it. God, I desperately want to sleep until nine in the morning tomorrow. The thought makes me nearly cry.
I could do it. Stellan would be happy if I took a break.
This is dangerous, though. The more I change for him, the more it feels like I’m giving myself away.
“I’m not quitting,” I murmur finally, nuzzling into his chest. “But I’ll call out.”
He doesn’t seem happy, but he doesn’t argue.