Chapter 18 - Anya
It’s been the most incredible night. I can’t stop smiling. Every moment of it, Emmanuil went out of his way to make it special. And the moments that weren’t planned, the spontaneous pieces in between, were just as beautiful.
I honestly thought he was going to kiss me on the Ferris wheel. I wanted him to. I desperately wanted it. But I can’t force something that isn’t there.
He’s been so gentle with me. Caring and thoughtful. We’re becoming friends again, and that alone is something I can be deeply grateful for.
Besides, I don’t want to do anything stupid and end up in another embarrassingly awkward moment like the one I experienced after we had sex.
Driving home, I’m disappointed that the night has come to an end.
I’m not ready to go to bed, even though I’m happily tired.
Emmanuil parks the car outside the mansion and shuts off the engine. We both sit for a moment in the dark. It’s quiet, and my heart is screaming at me to kiss him. But I don’t. I push the passenger door open and climb out.
We walk together towards the front door.
The comfortable silence has turned somewhat tense. It’s likely just me, reading into things. I’m the tense one.
Don’t kiss him. If he wanted to kiss you, he would have done so on the Ferris wheel.
We walk into the mansion and upstairs towards the bedrooms. Outside my door, we both pause.
“I hope you sleep beautifully, Anya,” he says, his voice low as he stares down at me.
“Thank you for tonight, Em. It was so much fun.”
He nods, smiling, his eyes are dark in the low light of the hallway.
I slip my arm around his waist, wanting to hug him goodnight.
Standing on my tiptoes, I kiss his cheek, friendly, not crossing any boundaries. His skin is warm, and the scent of his cologne is as intoxicating as it has been all night.
His body presses into mine as he steps closer to me, pushing my back against the wall.
My heart is racing and my head spinning as he slides one hand around my waist. His other hand touches my neck, his long fingers brushing up my cheek and turning my face towards his.
His lips crash into mine, and in an instant, my resistance crumbles away. That little voice of reason falls silent. I feel alive, as though I’ve burst into flames and my body is screaming to be with him.
I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him lower and deepening the kiss.
He groans against my lips and lifts me in his arms, wrapping my legs around his waist. His cock grows hard against me as my pink dress slides up my thighs, over my hips, and his hand slides along my ass, brushing between my legs and teasing my most heated parts.
He rocks forward, his cock rubbing over me.
His breath is hot against my skin as he trails his lips over my neck.
A gasp of pleasure slips from my mouth, and it seems to drive Emmanuil into more of a frenzy.
He pulls me away from the wall, carrying me away from my bedroom door—towards his.
He kicks the door further open with one foot and marches inside, throwing me onto the bed as he falls on top of me.
I grab at the buttons of his shirt, tugging them open.
He shakes his suspenders off his broad shoulders, his lips not leaving mine for a second. My lips are swollen with lust, and my body is humming with need.
Emmanuil shifts off me, standing over the bed.
I start wiggling out of my dress, and he shakes his head. “Leave it on. I want to fuck you in it.”
To my surprise, he unclips the leather suspenders from the waistband of his pants and snaps them against the palm of his hand. “Roll onto your stomach, ass in the air,” he commands.
My eyes flare wide, and my mouth drops open. My heartbeats quicken.
“Now, kitten,” he growls.
I move quickly, rolling onto my stomach, pulling my knees up, and lifting my ass into the air as I arch my back.
“Mm. Perfect,” he whispers darkly, tracing his hand up my inner thigh and softly slapping my ass.
I whimper, and the desire pulsing through me runs thicker and hotter. I arch higher towards him, glancing over my shoulder to watch him.
He slowly pushes my dress up over my ass, revealing everything.
He hooks his fingers beneath my panties, letting them brush over my pussy, dipping inside me, teasing for a moment before he pulls them out again.
In one swift movement, he rips the lace from my body and scrunches my panties in his hand. Pressing them against his face, he inhales, closing his eyes with satisfaction.
“I’ve been thinking about your scent all night, kitten,” he growls, his shirt hanging open and every perfect muscle across his stomach flexing.
Biting my lips, I fight for control, but I know how this game goes. The more I beg, the more I let him know how desperate I am to feel his cock inside me, the more he makes me wait.
He shoves my panties into his pocket and slaps the leather straps of his suspenders against his palm again.
“You’ve been teasing me,” he says.
“No—no, I haven’t,” I stammer, noting the intensity of his eyes.
“Really. Is that why you chose to wear this dress?”
I open my mouth to argue, but I can’t. It’s true. I have been teasing him.
“Eyes forward,” he commands.
I whimper, knowing the pain and pleasure of what is about to happen.
I bury my face against the blankets, my fingers already clawing into the duvet.
The first whip of leather falls across my ass cheeks, leaving a glowing red, heated line.
The pain spreads through my lower body, pooling between my legs, making my pussy throb.
He waits, building tension.
The second slap of leather is harder. It leaves another line, a welt of red. A ridge that I would be able to feel if I ran my hands over my skin.
I squeal in shock, wiggling to the side in reflex.
He chuckles and places his hand over my skin, his fingers slipping between my legs again.
“You’ve always loved this,” he whispers, his fingers sliding into me. “You can’t hide your body’s reaction.”
I glance back at him, and he stands up, sucking his fingers into his mouth while his dark eyes lock on me. He tugs his pants open and frees his massive cock. It’s rigid with thick veins running over the shaft.
“Eyes forward, kitten,” he warns me again.
The third whip of leather stings against my pussy, and I scream.
It’s a beautiful sensation, one that silences my thoughts and heightens every sensation in my body.
I bite the blankets and claw at them with my fingers—another whip across my pussy causes my eyes to water.
In the next instant, Emmanuil grabs my hips and thrusts his massive cock into my pussy.
I scream, the sound muffled against the blankets.
The pleasure is so intense it’s confusing for a moment, and I can’t breathe.
He slides slowly out and plunges into me again.
Reality slips away as he lays his body over mine, flattening me against the bed with his massive form and fucks me so hard the bed moves across the floor. His cock plunges into me from behind, forcing my pussy open, pushing deep inside me, and moving my insides. I can’t get enough of him.
He grabs a handful of my hair and pulls my head back, kissing my neck, pulling me further, arching me towards him while he fucks me.
I turn my head to the side, and his lips press into mine, his tongue sliding into my mouth as his cock penetrates me over and over again.
I can’t tell him I’m close because the kiss is as incredible as his cock in my pussy. I don’t want either to stop.
But I am close. My body is humming, and pulsing, and sharp electric currents are shaking through me.
He growls against my lips, his fingers knotting tighter in my hair.
He can feel it.
Moving faster and faster, our bodies lock together, and in a moment, completely frozen in time, I explode, my pussy vibrating as the orgasm slams into me, his cock rigid inside me, my pussy locked over him as his body locks me beneath him. He explodes inside me, and my orgasm triples.
In this moment, I belong to him.
Our breathing is heavy as he lies on top of my back.
A naughty giggle spills from my lips, and Emmanuil chuckles. “Did you enjoy that, kitten?” he asks.
I nod. “Very much so,” I say sleepily.
He rolls off me, sliding out of me, but he keeps his arm around me and pulls me with him.
Kicking the blankets away from beneath us, he cuddles me against his chest and tucks us into his bed.
I have no intention of running away again like I did last time. I don’t have the overwhelming surge of panicked emotions flooding me now.
And even if I wanted to try and make a run for it, Emmanuil has made sure I can’t. He’s holding me so securely I’m not going anywhere tonight.
Emmanuil yawns loudly, groaning in satisfaction as he slowly releases a long breath of air. “I’m going to sleep better than I have in a long time,” he says, and despite my eyes being closed, I can hear the smile in his voice.
I snuggle closer against his chest, brushing my fingers over his pecs.
I’m happy. Very happy.
Tonight could not have been more perfect.
I fall asleep quickly.
***
Over the next few days, it’s obvious that our relationship has shifted.
We are closer, things are more easygoing. Our friendship has grown, and there are definite benefits, seeing as I’ve been sharing his bed at night instead of going to my own.
I’m in a relaxed mood, humming while I stand in the kitchen waiting for the kettle to boil so I can make a cup of tea.
It’s late. Em is still at work. He messaged me a few hours ago to say he’s had something come up and that I shouldn’t wait up for him. For some reason, though, I can’t sleep, and I’m waiting for him anyway.
I don’t want to fall asleep without saying good night to him. He really means a lot to me. I’m not even worried about my heart anymore. I’ve just decided that whatever happens when this is over, it’s okay. I will deal with it at the time. For now, I want to enjoy everything.
The kettle clicks off and I jump, lost in thought and getting a fright.
I giggle at myself, picking it up and pouring freshly boiled water into my teacup. The air quickly fills with chamomile-scented steam as my tea bag dances around in the hot water.
I hear the front door opening and closing quietly.
Is that Em? My heart flutters with excitement. I haven’t seen him all day.
Leaving the tea to soak, I rush out of the kitchen to say hello, but when I round the corner and find him standing there, he looks miserable and exhausted. His face is tight, and his jaw is set firmly.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, rushing towards him. He drops his jacket onto the coat hook near the door and sighs heavily. When he faces me, I immediately notice the dark red stains across the white sleeves of his shirt.
“Em, you’re hurt,” I say, horrified.
“It’s not bad,” he sighs.
I grab his hand and pull him into the kitchen, where the light is brighter, and I can see properly.
He sighs again, trying to pull his hand away. “It’s not bad, Anya, I’m just going to shower and go to bed. I’m so tired I can barely stand.”
Shaking my head, I scold him, “Just let me look.” I push his back against the kitchen counter.
He pulls his mouth to the side but doesn’t argue again, just watches me with an amused tint in his eyes.
I unbutton his shirt and stand on my tiptoes to tug it off his shoulders, carefully pulling the sleeves off his arms because the blood has already dried, and I remember how much it stings to pull the fabric away from a wound. But Em doesn’t even flinch.
There are several cuts on his forearms. One of them is deep. The others aren’t too bad.
“What happened?” I ask, my voice tight.
“Some morons tried to attack me as I left the meeting point this evening. There was a disagreement at the meeting, and I think one of the guys set his guards on me, trying to make a point.”
“That’s horrible,” I yelp.
Em chuckles. “You should see the other guys, though. All three of them.” When I glance at his face, he looks mildly proud of himself.
I narrow my eyes, and he shrugs. “They should have known better than to mess with me. And their leader will feel the sting of the consequences tomorrow when his warehouse is shut down. I gave him a fair deal, and he wanted to test my limits. He clearly needs to be reminded of his place in the chain of command.”
I roll my eyes, ignoring the knot in my stomach. This Bratva business is all so ruthless. I can’t let it get to me, though; it’s how the world works.
“I need to disinfect this,” I say, tracing my finger carefully around the cuts.
“Just leave it.”
“No. It might not be too bad now, but if it gets infected, you’ll be miserable. Let me take care of you for a change.”
He tilts his head to the side, and a warm smile brushes over his lips.
“Alright, kitten. You can take care of me,” he concedes.
I take his hand and pull him upstairs to his bathroom, where I know the first aid kit is.
He sits on the edge of the bath with his legs apart, and I sit on one of his knees as I work on his arm, then switch to the other knee to work on the other arm. It’s cozy, sitting on his lap. Intimate and comforting.
Step by step, I disinfect each cut, the same way he disinfected my bullet graze. I learned a lot watching him, and now I get to repay the tenderness he showed me on that day.
I can feel his eyes on me the entire time as he watches quietly. I’m lost in the task, wanting to be perfect for him.
When I’m done, I tape the last piece of bandage over his forearm and double-check that each one of them is secure.
“Did I do okay?” I ask, looking up at him with a hopeful glance.
“You did an excellent job, kitten. I would have you as a nurse any day,” he chuckles, wrapping his arms around me and pressing his lips against mine.
He pauses, his mouth still touching mine. “Now, I think I know how you can distract me and help me fall asleep.” He grins, standing, taking me with him, and carries me to bed.