20. Ilya
ILYA
My lips part from hers, the heat of her mouth lingering against my skin. I slowly pull back, my chest expanding as I draw a breath, and press a soft, lingering kiss to her forehead. My thumbs brush the tears from her damp cheeks, my touch lighter than it has any right to be. "Go to bed, Via."
I stand up, the floor cold under my feet as I force myself to turn away.
My chest is tight, a wild, clawing panic under my ribs because of how close I just came to letting her see every broken piece of my past. If I stay here, if I look at her for another second in this soft, golden dimness, I won't be able to put the mask back on. I’ll lose the edge I need to keep us both alive.
Her hand shoots out, her small fingers catching my wrist, her grip surprisingly tight as she halts my retreat. "Don't go, Ilya... stay... please."
I look down at her, my jaw clenching as the blue flames of the stove throw long, flickering shadows across her face. I can feel the rapid, desperate heat of her palm against my pulse. "I can't stay here without touching you, Via. And I’m not sure that’s what you want right now."
She looks me straight in the eye, her hazel pupils dark, blown out, and completely steady through her tears. "I want it more than I want my next breath."
A low, rough growl rumbles deep in my chest, my body instantly hardening at the sheer, desperate surrender in her voice. "I don't want to hurt you, little bird."
"Then don't." She stands up slowly, her bare feet silent on the cold floor, stepping directly into my space until her chest is pressing against mine. "But please, hold me, touch me, kiss me... fuck me... please, I... I need it, Ilya."
The last thread of my control snaps.
I slide my arms under her knees and her back, lifting her in a single, smooth motion.
Her weight is nothing to me, a fragile, trembling bundle of gold hair and soft grey wool.
She wraps her arms around my neck, her face burying deep into the crook of my shoulder, her hot breaths puffing against my collarbone
I carry her out of the kitchen, my feet thudding softly on the marble of the staircase as we ascend into the quiet, dark upper level of the estate.
The storm outside is still screaming, the lightning throwing long, blue-white sheets of light through the arched windows, but the noise feels distant now.
The only sound that matters is the rapid, shallow hiss of her breathing against my skin.
I push open the double doors of my bedroom with my shoulder, stepping into the dim, shadow-draped space.
The fire in the hearth has died down to a bed of glowing red coals, casting a warm, amber light across the massive bed.
I walk to the edge of the mattress and lower her slowly onto the dark silk sheets.
She stays there, her legs curled up slightly, her eyes wide, dark, and completely glassy. She looks up at me as I step back to strip off my wet flannel trousers, leaving myself completely bare.
My cock is already thick, rigid, and throbbing with a heavy, painful pulse that has been building since she kissed my scars in the kitchen.
I climb onto the bed, my knees sinking into the soft mattress as I hover over her. I reach down, my large, rough hands catching the hem of her oversized grey sweater. "Raise your arms, Via."
She lifts her hands without a second of hesitation, letting me pull the heavy wool over her head and toss it onto the floor.
She is completely bare beneath it. The amber glow of the coals traces the soft, smooth curve of her breasts, the elegant dip of her waist, and the pale flare of her hips.
She is beautiful. Her chest is heaving, her skin goosebumped from the cool air, her thighs trembling slightly as she looks up into my face.
I reach out, my fingers trembling just a fraction as I lay my hand flat against her lower belly. The skin is so soft, so warm, it makes my jaw clench with a sudden, suffocating ache. I slide my hand upward, my thumb tracing the swell of her ribs, the rapid, frantic beat of her heart under my palm.
"You are so small," I murmur, my voice a low, gravelly rasp that sounds raw in the quiet room. "I’m always afraid I’m going to break you."
She reaches up, her small, warm fingers wrapping around my wrist, her thumb tracing the thick vein pulsing there. "I’m not made of glass, Ilya. You’ve tried to break me since the day you brought me here, and I’m still standing."
"I don't want to break you anymore, little bird," I say, leaning down until my chest is hovering inches from hers.
"Then what do you want?" Her voice is a breathless whisper, her hazel eyes locking onto my mouth with a raw, starving focus.
"I want to worship you," I rasp.
I drop my mouth to hers, and the kiss is entirely different, I part her lips with my tongue, tasting the sweet vanilla of her skin, my hand sliding up to cup her jaw, my thumb gently tracing her cheekbone.
She lets out a long sigh against my mouth, her body completely relaxing beneath mine, her hands rising to tangle in my dark hair.
I pull back slowly, my mouth sliding down the line of her throat.
I press my lips to the pulse point in her neck, feeling the frantic, rapid thud of her blood against my tongue.
I move lower, my kisses tracing the curve of her collarbone, before dropping to her breasts.
I take one tight, hardened peak into my mouth, sucking on it slowly, my tongue swirling around the dark pink bud until she arches off the sheets with a quiet, high-pitched gasp.
"Ilya... oh god..." Her fingers dig into my shoulders, her nails scratching the smooth skin over my shoulder blade.
"Do you like that, Via?" I look up, my chin resting on her chest, watching her face flush in the amber light.
"Yes," she pants, her head tossing back against the pillows. "Please... don't stop."
I don't stop. I move my mouth down the center of her belly, my tongue tracing the dip of her navel, my hands smoothing over her hips, tracing the bruises my own fingers had left there days ago.
I kiss the purple marks, my lips soft against her skin, wanting to erase the pain, wanting to replace every single bad memory she has of this house with my touch.
I reach the junction of her thighs, my hands sliding under her knees to part her legs.
She is soaking wet. The hot, slippery syrup of her arousal is glistening on her inner thighs, her body completely ready for me despite the cold rain outside. I kneel between her knees, my eyes tracking the pale, smooth cleft of her sex.
I lean down, my hands gripping her hips to hold her steady. I press my tongue directly against her swollen, throbbing clit.
Via lets out a loud, breathless scream, her body bucking off the sheets as she tries to retreat from the sudden, intense heat of my mouth.
But my hands on her hips are iron, keeping her firmly pinned to the bed.
I lick her slowly, my tongue sweeping upward, drinking her wetness, before driving two fingers deep into her tight, slippery channel.
"Ilya! No, it’s too much!" She’s thrashing her head against the pillows, her fingers clawing at the dark silk sheets on either side of her head. "I'm going to... I’m close..."
"Let it happen, Via," I growl, my thumb putting a hard, relentless pressure on her nub while my fingers move inside her, matching the frantic, rolling rhythm of her hips. "Give it to me."
"Ilya!"
She shatters. Her body goes completely rigid, her back arching off the mattress as she screams my name into the quiet room.
Her internal muscles clamp down around my fingers in a series of violent, shaking contractions, her release flowing over my hand in a hot, soaking wave.
I drink her, my tongue devouring her climax, my mouth sealing over her wet skin until her sobs turn into soft, panting gasps.
I pull my hand back, my fingers slick with her juices, and crawl back up her body.
She looks wrecked. Her hair is sprawled across the pillows, her cheeks splotched with pink, her hazel eyes wide, glassy, and completely dark. She is completely open to me, her chest heaving as she stares up into my face.
"You're beautiful," I whisper, my hand coming up to stroke her damp forehead, my voice trembling with a feeling I can’t quite name.
"Ilya," she breathes, the word a soft, quiet prayer against my lips.
I walk to the closet, grabbing a thick, black silk tie from the rack. I return to the bed, my eyes never leaving her face as I sit on the edge of the mattress.
"Give me your hands, Via," I say, my voice dropping into a low, commanding register.
She looks at the silk tie, then at my face, a tiny, familiar spark of stubbornness flickering in her eyes before it is completely swallowed by the heat. She slowly lifts her wrists, pressing them together above her head.
"Are you going to keep me locked down?" she whispers, her breath coming in short, shallow hitches.
"Only so you can't run from how good this is going to feel," I say, wrapping the silk tie around her wrists. I tie them to the heavy, carved mahogany post of the headboard, keeping the knot secure but not tight enough to pinch her skin.
Once she is secured, her chest is completely arched, her bare body fully exposed to my gaze. I stand over her, my eyes tracking the line of her throat, her breasts, and the wet, glistening cleft between her thighs.
I raise my right hand, my palm flat and heavy.
Smack.
The sharp, stinging sound of my hand hitting her bare bottom cheek echoes through the quiet bedroom. Via lets out a loud, startled gasp, her body twitching against the silk restraint, her skin instantly turning a beautiful, deep rose.
"Ilya," she whimpers, her hips tilting upward, seeking the pressure.
Smack.
I deliver another slow, heavy blow, the skin warming under my hand, her body vibrating with a sudden, sharp spike of arousal that makes her wetness drip onto the sheet below.
"You are my wife, Viallentinka," I whisper, my mouth grazing her ear, my hands sliding down to her hips to position myself at her entrance. "Your body belongs to me. Every single inch of it."
"I am," she sobs, her thighs parting wider, her head thrashing against the wood of the headboard. "I’m yours, Ilya. Please. I can't take the wait."
I don't make her wait.
I drive myself inside her in a single, deep thrust.
The stretch is immense. I am so thick, so hard, that entering her completely takes the breath straight out of her lungs, her mouth opening in a silent, high-pitched gasp.
She clamps down around my length like a hot, wet vise, her internal walls wrapping around me so tightly I have to freeze, my jaw clenching, my forehead resting against hers as I fight to keep from losing my control immediately.
"Via..." I groan, my hand coming up to cup her face, my thumb wiping away the tear sliding down her cheek. "You're so goddamn tight."
"Move, Ilya," she begs, her hips twitching against mine, her wrists pulling against the silk tie. "Please. Move."
I begin to thrust.
The pace is slow, deep, and filled with a heavy, grinding pressure.
I hold her hips, my thrusts driving all the way to her core, aligning perfectly with the tilt of her pelvis.
The wet, heavy friction of our bodies sliding together is the only sound in the room, mixed with the steady, wailing rain hitting the window glass outside.
"Is this good, little bird?" I ask, my voice a gravelly vibration against her mouth.
"Yes," she gasps, her fingers curled into tight fists against the headboard. "It’s... it’s too much. Ilya, please."
I increase the speed, my thrusts becoming hard, relentless, and deep.
I slide my hand down, my fingers finding her clit and rubbing it with a firm, steady pressure that makes her scream against my mouth.
She is completely lost in the sensation, her body vibrating with the build-up of a second, even more violent climax.
"Beg me, Via," I growl, my pace reaching a deafening, rapid rhythm.
"Ilya," she cries out, her body going completely rigid beneath mine. "Ilya! Please!"
Her climax hits her, the violent, shaking waves of her release washing over me in tight, desperate pulses that completely destroy the last hold on my control.
I let out a loud, animalistic roar, driving myself deep inside her one last time, my body shaking as I release my hot seed deep inside her womb.
I stay buried inside her, my chest heaving against hers, my head buried in the crook of her wet neck as we both shiver in the aftermath.
Slowly, I pull back, the sticky friction of our release making a soft, wet sound as I slide out.
She lets out a quiet, exhausted sigh, her wrists falling limp against the dark wood of the headboard as I reach up to untie the silk.
I drag her body up the mattress until her head is resting in the crook of my good shoulder, my heavy arm wrapping around her waist to anchor her flat against my chest.
She doesn't pull away, her fingers tangling lazily in the hair on my chest as her breathing slowly evens out.
"I'm carrying my things back to my wing tomorrow," she murmurs, her voice a sleepy, muffled thread against my skin.
My grip on her waist tenses, my jaw clenching slightly in the dark room. "No, you're not."
She shifts, her head lifting off my chest to look at my face in the dim glow of the coals. "Excuse me?"
"Your room is empty from tonight, Via," I say, my thumb sliding over her bare hip, tracing the warm curve of her skin. "You sleep here. In my bed. Every night. If I wake up and you aren't under my arm, I’m locking the house down."
She stares at me for a long second, a tiny, stubborn spark of defiance flickering in her eyes before she lets out a soft, tired huff and drops her head back onto my chest. "You're an incredibly bossy warden, Kovalevskii."
"I’m a husband who likes his investments where he can see them," I say, my lips pressing a lingering, possessive kiss to the top of her gold hair.
Right now, in the quiet, dim twilight of the bedroom, there is only her.