25. Chapter 25 #3
Her thighs trembled beneath my hands and her eyes rolled back when her climax hit. I exhaled sharply when her cunt clamped down on me, throbbing around my shaft.
“Oh, shit.” I cursed when my balls drew up tight and the tingling at the base of my spine transformed into a full-blown shower of sparks racing up my spine.
Addy watched me through hooded eyes, never taking her gaze off me, while I rutted into her like a feral beast.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck! I’m coming!” I growled. My jaw went slack as the pleasure washed over me. My cock was buried to the hilt in my pussy, filling her with rope after rope of cum.
Christ, with how much I was coming, it felt like I actually hadn’t come for ten fucking years. With each throb and twitch, I painted her walls and marked her as mine. Claimed her, from the inside out.
That’s what I’m fucking talking about.
I released a shuddering breath and looked down at the spot where our bodies were connected. “Look at this perfect pussy, taking all my cum.”
Still catching my breath, I let my eyes roam over her body, taking in the bruises, flushed skin and swollen lips.
Addy looked fucking perfect.
Running my hands tenderly up her sides, I watched goosebumps erupt on her skin. I brushed the hair out of her face and then pressed a slow, gentle kiss to her lips.
Pressing my forehead against hers, I stared into her eyes. “I knew you were mine. I just didn’t know how fucking perfect you are for me.”
Her gaze softened, a tiny smile playing around her lips, as she stroked the side of my face. I turned my head and kissed her palm.
Then I stretched out again, lowering myself down to cage her in with my body. Our noses touched and I peered down at her, a mischievous grin tugging at my lips.
“So, the mask, huh?”
The yacht rocked gently beneath us, the slow movement of the water turning the entire world into something quieter and softer than it had any right to be after the last few days.
The engines hummed somewhere below us, their steady vibration traveling up through the bed, through my spine and the arm I had wrapped around Addy’s waist.
She was draped across my chest and our legs were tangled beneath the sheets.
At some point after we’d finally stopped touching each other long enough to breathe, she had simply decided my chest was a perfectly acceptable pillow, arranging herself there as if she’d already decided this was her place now.
I sure as fuck wasn’t complaining.
One of her toned legs was draped over mine and her cheek was pressed against my chest.
There was also hair everywhere. Literally everywhere. It was in my face, tickling my neck and tangled between my fingers. I had started absently playing with the strands sometime in the last twenty minutes, without consciously deciding to do it.
It was so goddamn pretty and silky. She was the softest, most precious thing I had touched in ten years … or maybe ever, and I wasn’t taking it for granted.
I stared at the ceiling. Each time I looked down at her, I felt a tightening in my chest feeling dangerously close to awe. I was not a man who enjoyed feeling like I might be losing control.
My hand moved slowly through her hair again because I simply couldn’t stop myself. She was mine, everything about her belonged to me.
Addy’s fingers traced idle shapes along my ribs, following the lines of ink etched into my skin.
“Who did all of these?” Her voice was thick with sleep and soft in a way that made something in my chest tighten.
“Kyrill.”
“Really?” There was genuine surprise in her voice. She had only met him tonight but I could see why she was surprised. My tattoos looked like I’d easily dropped six figures on them, given the level of detail and skill evident on my skin.
My best friend might have massive hands capable of violence, but these hands were somehow responsible for the most detailed linework I’d ever seen.
“Yeah. He’s quite talented.”
“That’s not the part that’s confusing me. How did you manage to get a tattoo gun into prison capable of doing all that? Don’t you guys usually build them yourselves in there?”
“Oh.” I chuckled. “Yeah, the other guys did. But one of the guards owed us big time, so he smuggled an actual gun in for us and kept it in his locker.”
“Neat.”
“I guess so,” I agreed lightly, stroking her hair.
“You’re staring again,” she murmured.
“So? I’m allowed to stare.”
“Of course you’d say that,” Addy muttered under her breath. “Stalker.”
I felt my lips twitch traitorously. “I thought it was kidnapper?”
“Pretty sure you qualify for multiple charges at this point.”
“Only if someone bothers to enforce them.”
“How would I know?” She lifted one shoulder. “I was a normal person just this morning.”
“You were never really a normal person, baby. You were always meant to end up with me.”
“You kidnapped me, so it’s not like I had a choice.”
“I rescued you.”
She scoffed. “From what, exactly?”
“A life of boredom, without your soulmate at your side,” I explained matter-of-factly.
She actually lifted her head to peer up at me for a moment, then laughed under her breath.
“You’re ridiculous.”
“And yet,” I said mildly, “here you are.”
“Okay wait.” She shifted slightly, sliding her leg further between mine as she propped her chin on my chest. “Let’s circle back for a second.”
My hand settled lazily on her waist. “To which part?”
“The felon part.”
“That is a very broad category,” I drawled, raising my brows slightly.
“And the murderer part.”
Ah. There it was.
Addy said it lightly, but I could sense the faint tension in her body, and her fingers had stopped tracing absentmindedly along my ribs.
“You said that very casually,” I noted.
“Well, I’m trying not to panic.”
I skeptically quirked a brow in her direction.
“Okay, I’m lying,” she added, blinking rapidly. “I’m absolutely panicking.” Her eyes widened slightly, as if the realization had just hit her. “Oh my God.”
“What?”
“I’m on a yacht,” she said slowly.
I nodded, concern welling up inside me. “Yes. We’ve covered that.”
“With an escaped criminal.”
“Correct.”
“A criminal who has enemies.”
“I mean yeah, sure.” I shrugged.
“And guns.”
“… Yes.”
“And has technically—” she gestured vaguely at me “—murdered someone.”
I pursed my lips and watched her process this information for a moment.
She hid her face behind her hands. “Oh my God.”
“You’re handling this surprisingly well.”
I was honestly impressed she hadn’t freaked out earlier.
“I’m not handling this well. I’m actively spiraling right now.” She dropped her forehead onto my chest with a soft thud.
“I lost a bet,” she muttered.
Intrigued by the way her mind worked — jumping from topic to topic — I snorted. “Yes.”
“I lost a bet and ended up agreeing to be sexually available to a potentially homicidal Russian man on a yacht.”
“To be honest, I’m more American than Russian. Also, you’re making it sound like it wasn’t an excellent bargain.”
Addy lifted her head again and stared at me. “Did you or did you not murder someone?”
“That’s a longer conversation.”
Her eyes narrowed. “This is the second time you’ve dodged that question.”
“It’s a complicated answer.” I shrugged.
“How complicated could it be?” she demanded. “Either you murdered someone or you didn’t.”
I considered that. “There are certain … circumstances.”
“That’s not reassuring.”
“But it’s honest.”
Addy groaned again and dramatically collapsed back onto my chest. “I can’t believe this is my life now.”
I slid my hand slowly up her back, spreading my fingers against her spine.
“You’re enjoying this,” she accused, poking my ribs and making me wince.
“Immensely.”
Addy studied me again, clearly trying to decide whether to be terrified or amused. Then she sighed and flopped back down against me.
“Okay.” She nodded to herself.
“Okay?”
“I’m postponing the moral crisis until tomorrow.”
Or any day in the very distant future.
“That’s wise.” I sighed.
“I’m too comfortable to make responsible life decisions.”
I huffed out a quiet laugh and pulled her closer. “I don’t blame you.”
She stayed there for a moment, her cheek against my chest and her fingers lazily drifting across my ribs, as if she’d decided her temporary nervous breakdown could be postponed if she simply ignored the wider implications of her situation.
The yacht shifted beneath us again as the waves broke against the hull. We laid there for a while and I listened to her slow breathing. My hand moved idly through her hair, and the weight of her body on top of mine grounded me in a way I hadn’t expected.
Then her fingers slowed against my ribs until they eventually stopped.
“Can I ask you something?”
“You can ask me anything.”
I just can’t promise I can answer. My desire to keep her safe outweighed my desire to always give her what she wanted.
“This one might be … slightly heavier.”
I stayed silent, waiting patiently for her question.
Addy lifted her head, rested her chin on my chest and looked up at me. Her entire expression had changed. There was still curiosity and warmth in her features, but now they were accompanied by a more cautious note.
“What is your family, um, situation like?”
This line of questioning caught me off guard more than the murderer question had. I didn’t realize it, but my hand slowed in her hair. Addy noticed immediately, though.
“You don’t have to answer if that’s weird or if you don’t want to,” she added quickly. “I just realized I know almost nothing about you, except how criminally persuasive and not afraid of using manipulation you are.”
Readjusting against the pillows, I stared at the ceiling for a moment while my fingers resumed to slowly run through her hair.
“My mom … well, she’s still alive at least.”
“Oh.” Her warm breath ghosted over my chest. “I’m sorry you’re part of the Dead Dad’s Club, too.”
I huffed out a laugh. “It’s okay.”
Addy hummed. “Tell me about your mom.”