Chapter 6 #2
His fingers tighten around the unopened packet. “If I come inside you, one time can be enough. If this is the adrenaline talking, say so now.”
My pulse beats hard against my throat, and I know exactly how stupid the decision may look tomorrow. Right now I want him more than I fear the possibility.
“It’s one time,” I say. “What harm could it do? I want to feel you, Artur.”
Artur’s eyes darken, then he places the condom back in the drawer without looking away from me.
“Tell me what you want,” he says.
I spread my thighs farther. “Fuck me without it. Come inside me.”
Artur kneels between my legs, pulling me closer by the hips until the head of his cock presses against my opening.
I reach between us, closing my fingers around the base. His bare skin is hot, smooth under my palm, and his thickness prevents my hand from meeting around him.
Artur pushes forward.
The first stretch burns, and although I’m wet enough to take him, his width still forces me open slowly until I grip his forearms to stop him when my breath goes thin.
“Wait.”
He becomes motionless.
The pressure stays intense; I breathe through it until the sting eases, then tilt my hips toward him.
“Now,” I say.
Artur drives the rest of the way inside.
The fullness tears a cry from me when his pelvis meets the backs of my thighs, leaving no space between us as my muscles tighten around every hard inch; his fingers dig into my hips.
“Fuck,” I whisper.
Artur bends over me. “You asked for my cock. You have all of it.”
He draws almost all the way out before thrusting back into me, shifting the mattress beneath us. Each deep stroke moves my breasts, dragging the tender nipples through cool air.
“Slower,” I tell him.
Artur obeys for two strokes, making every inch distinct as his cock drags through me before filling me again, thickest near the base. I wrap both legs around his waist to draw him deeper, my sharpened cry prompting him to take control with a pace that keeps pressure against my clitoris.
Artur grips one of my knees, pushing it higher toward my chest, and his next thrust moves me up the mattress.
I gasp his name.
He does it again.
The headboard touches the wall with a steady knock as sweat warms the space between us. Above me, dark hair lies damp where my breasts brush Artur’s chest, while the scar along his right ribs pulls whenever he twists without breaking pace.
I drag my nails down his back. His cock jerks inside me.
“Do that again,” he orders. “I want your marks on me when we leave this house.”
I scratch him from shoulder to waist.
Artur makes a rough sound against my neck, then catches my earlobe between his teeth. The small bite sends a shiver over my wet skin.
“You argue with every order, then obey the ones that make you come harder,” he says.
“Those are the useful ones.”
His hand moves between us, and two fingers find my clitoris, slick from where our bodies join. He rubs in short circles as his thrusts become faster.
Pleasure tightens again, sharper because my body is already sensitive. The room smells of sweat mixed with sex, and the bed knocks against the wall in time with my pulse.
“Look at me,” Artur says.
I meet his eyes.
Every trace of amusement has left his face, and with each breath, desire pulls his mouth open. His pupils are wide, leaving only a narrow edge of gray. He watches me as if my pleasure matters more than the danger outside or whatever he intended this marriage to be.
As my muscles close around him, Artur covers my mouth with his, thrusting through the hard contractions until my legs pull him deeper and break his pace.
His muscles lock under my hands, and his cock jerks against the deepest part of me as he comes, spilling heat inside me with each pulse. I tighten around him and hold him deep until his body stops moving.
For several seconds, neither of us moves.
Artur’s weight settles onto his forearms, his breath touching my damp cheek as my heart slows by degrees; small aftershocks keep moving through me.
He kisses me once without demand.
The tenderness frightens me more than the force did. Artur withdraws, leaving a sudden emptiness that aches as his semen slips onto my inner thigh. I watch the muscles in his ass flex when he crosses to the bathroom before water begins running in the sink.
He returns with a warm cloth.
“You planned cleanup too?” I ask.
“I plan for the aftermath. You’re welcome to be impressed.”
Artur cleans the slickness from my thighs with a gentleness that doesn’t match the red marks on my hips, then tosses the cloth toward the bathroom hamper. It misses, making me look from the cloth to him.
“The lighting is poor,” he says.
“I’ll mention that excuse in your performance review.”
Artur lies beside me, still naked. “I expected fucking you once would end the fixation. Instead, I’m lying here deciding how long you need before I can do it again.”
I turn my head. “You developed a strategy without supporting evidence.”
His gaze travels down my body again, taking in breasts flushed from his mouth, damp hair stuck to my neck, and thighs still open beneath the sheet.
His cock begins to lift against his stomach.
I roll onto the right side of the bed and pull the pillow under my head.
Artur looks at me. “You’ve taken my side of the bed.”
“Your contract neglected mattress borders, so I claimed the better pillow.”
“Move willingly or I’ll recover the blanket by force.”
I close my eyes until the blanket slides from my shoulder, forcing me to seize the edge before he takes all of it.
“I sleep naked every night, and I still object to freezing. Since you’ve taken my side, you’ll have ample opportunity to confirm both facts.”
The security screen lights beside the bed.
A muted alarm pulses red across the display, bringing Artur to his feet before I can sit up. He pulls on the lounge pants without underwear before reaching for the pistol as I drag the T-shirt over my head, my hands beginning to shake again.
The screen shows the rear fence, where one camera has gone black while another catches a guard crouched beside chain-link wire hanging loose from a post.
“That isn’t a raccoon,” I say.
“No.” Artur touches the communication panel. “Report.”
A guard’s voice breaks through static. “Cut section on the northwest perimeter. No entry tracks inside. We found an insulated tool outside the fence.”
Artur checks the other camera views while I stand beside him in the shirt, bare under it, as cooling sweat makes the fabric cling to my back.
The bedroom smells like sex while my body still carries the deep ache of him, yet fear has returned through it. Whoever cut the wire stood within arm’s reach of the fence while we lay naked ten yards away.
“How long was that camera out?” Artur asks.
“Forty-one seconds.”
“Lock the interior gate. Nobody crosses the perimeter until Boris arrives.”
Artur releases the panel and reaches for his shirt; red lines from my nails cross his back. Seeing them as he loads another magazine sends a sick mixture of pride and panic through me.
“Was someone trying to enter?” I ask.
He pulls the shirt over his head without fastening it. “No tracks means they probably wanted us to find the cut.”
“Why?”
Artur looks at the dead square on the security screen.
“To learn how fast I respond.”
Outside, white beams sweep across the loosened fence, and the cut ends shine under the lights, their clean edges proving the wire didn’t fail on its own.
The safe house isn’t hiding us anymore.
Someone’s started measuring it.