Chapter 20 – Kirill #2
I crawled over her, pinning her wrists above her head with one hand, lacing our fingers together. I positioned the head of my cock at her entrance, teasing the opening, letting her feel exactly how big I was.
“Say it,” I demanded, holding myself back, sweat beading on my forehead from the effort. “Tell me who I am.”
“My husband,” she sobbed, lifting her hips.
“That’s right.”
I drove into her. One long, smooth stroke that buried me to the hilt. We both groaned, a guttural, animalistic sound of relief. She was so tight, her inner walls clamping down on me like a fist, milking me instantly.
“Fuck, you feel incredible,” I swore, withdrawing slowly only to slam back in. “So tight. Perfect for me.”
We found a rhythm that was less about romance and more about possession. I fucked her with deep, punishing strokes, grinding my pubic bone against her clitoris with every thrust. The sound of wet skin slapping against skin filled the room, mixed with her gasps and my rough breathing.
“Look at me,” I commanded.
She opened her heavy-lidded eyes, locking her gaze with mine.
“I’m going to ruin you for anyone else,” I promised, driving deeper, hitting her cervix. “I’m going to fill you up until you can’t walk straight. Until all you feel is me.”
“Yes,” she hissed. “Yes, please.”
The friction built to a fever pitch. She tightened around me, her body convulsing in the first waves of a climax.
Feeling her unravel shattered my control.
I let go of her hands to grab her hips, anchoring her against the mattress as I pounded into her, harder, faster, desperate to get as deep as physically possible.
“Barbara!” I roared, her name tearing from my throat.
She screamed as she went over the edge, clamping down on me hard. I followed her a second later, my vision going white as I poured myself into her, pulsing wave after wave of hot seed deep inside her womb. I held her tight, grinding into her, making sure she took every drop.
We collapsed together, hearts hammering against each other’s ribs like war drums. I rolled to the side but kept her pulled flush against me, my leg thrown over hers to keep her close. The air smelled of sex and sweat and satisfied lust.
The room finally went quiet. That heavy, post-ecstasy silence where the only sound left is breathing—the slow, uneven rhythm of two bodies trying to calm down.
I thought she might pass out. Hell, I almost let her.
But when my hand slid down to her hip, the grip familiar and possessive, I felt her flinch, and I knew she thought I was done.
I wasn’t.
I shifted down the mattress, lowering myself until my face hovered above her stomach. The air was cool on her skin, but my breath made her shiver. She whispered my name—weak, wrecked.
“Kirill…I can’t. I’m empty.”
I smiled against her skin. God, she had no idea.
“You’re never empty for me,” I murmured. “And I am certainly not done with you.”
I wrapped my hands around her thighs and parted them easily. She was still marked up beautifully—handprints fading on her hips, the inside of her thighs gleaming with the mess I’d left. Most men would clean it away.
Not me.
This was mine, and I wanted to taste what I’d done.
I lowered my head, dragging my tongue up the inside of her thigh—slow, deliberate, claiming her all over again. The sound she made had my cock throbbing. She gasped, her hips jerking, her body instinctively begging even if her mouth said she couldn’t take more.
“You taste like me,” I growled, lifting my eyes to meet hers. “You have no idea how much that turns me on.”
I didn’t touch her clit yet. Not when I could make her tremble just by kissing along her groin, letting my stubble scrape the sensitive skin and watching goosebumps rise across her whole body. Her thighs opened wider without me asking. Perfect.
I blew softly on her entrance, loving the way she whined—soft, needy, helpless.
“Do you want more?” I asked, circling her rim with my tongue, already knowing the answer.
“I…I don’t know,” she whispered—lying through her teeth, slick and ready again.
“Liar.”
I wrapped my mouth around her clit and sucked. Hard.
Her whole body arched, her fingers clawing at the sheets while I worked her with ruthless precision. My tongue, fast and steady. My fingers, slipping inside her easily, curling just right. She was so open for me, so ruined already, but she clenched around me like she’d been waiting hours for this.
“Kirill, please! I’m going to—”
“Not yet.”
I pulled away—my mouth, my fingers—leaving her shaking, right on the edge.
Before she could beg again, I flipped her onto her stomach. She buried her face in the pillow, her ass lifted instinctively, like she knew exactly what I wanted.
“Up,” I ordered, smacking her ass. The sound cracked through the room. She yelped, then obeyed.
I pressed my chest to her back, my hands cupping her breasts, rolling her nipples until she whimpered. My cock—hard again, painfully hard—pressed between her cheeks. I leaned in, biting her ear.
“I want to see the marks I made on your back. I want to watch you take me.”
My hand guided my cock to her entrance. This time I pushed in slow—inch by thick inch—feeling every twitch of her tight muscles trying to adjust around me. She groaned, pushing back, greedy for the fullness even through the soreness.
“Fuck, you take it so well,” I hissed as my hips finally met her ass.
I started moving, hard and deep, the angle hitting her beautifully—each thrust making her gasp. My hands dropped to her hips, gripping the bruises I’d left. I didn’t hold back. I didn’t need to.
“Whose wife are you?” I growled, pounding into her harder with each word.
“Yours!” she sobbed into the pillow. “I’m yours, Kirill!”
“Damn right.”
I grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked her head back. Her neck arched perfectly for my mouth, and I sucked another mark into her skin while driving her into the mattress. She was trembling, the friction making her fall apart faster this time.
“Kirill, I’m close—I’m close again!”
“Go. Cum for me, Barbara. Let me feel you squeeze.”
She broke. She shattered around me violently, her body clamping down on my cock so tight I nearly lost control.
Her orgasm dragged mine out of me in a low, guttural roar. I slammed into her—deep, deeper, deepest—before spilling inside her again, filling her until she shook.
I collapsed on top of her, pressing her into the sheets, both of us breathless, drenched in sweat, still connected.
I kissed her shoulder—slow, claiming, certain.
“My wife,” I whispered against her skin. “My ruin.”
Hours later, the room was quiet, but the charge was still there. My lips traced the curve of her shoulder, finding the mark I’d left earlier.
“I love you.” The words came out rough, stripped of pretense.
She turned in my arms, her hair a wild halo on the pillow, her lips swollen and red from my mouth. She looked thoroughly, beautifully ravaged.
“I love you too,” she whispered, her hand resting on my chest over my heart. “My husband.”
The word settled deep in my bones. Outside, Sebastian was still hunting us. The world was still burning. But in here, wrapped in tangled sheets and the scent of our sex, I had claimed the only thing that mattered.
We had each other. Had the promise of a future we’d build together. Had the child growing inside Barbara that would be the physical manifestation of this impossible love. Had the vows we’d just spoken in front of two worlds that shouldn’t mix, but somehow did when it came to us.
We had forever. Or as close to forever as people like us could claim.
“What are you thinking?” Barbara asked, her fingers tracing patterns on my chest.
“That I’m the luckiest bastard alive.” I pulled her closer, needing her warmth, her reality, her presence. “That somehow, against all logic and probability, I found you. And you chose me.”
“Of course I chose you.” She said it like it was obvious. Like there’d never been any other option. “You’re mine, Kirill Petrov. Have been since that first dance. I just didn’t know it yet.”
“Mine,” I agreed, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “And I’m yours. Completely. For better or worse.”
“We got the worse part out of the way early,” she joked, but there was truth underneath. “It’s all uphill from here, right?”
I wanted to promise that. Wanted to guarantee smooth sailing and happy endings and nothing but joy from this point forward. But I’d never been good at lying, especially not to her.
“We’ll face whatever comes,” I said instead. “Together. You and me against the world.”
“And our baby.” She placed my hand on her stomach, where the slight swell was just beginning to show. “The three of us.”
“The three of us,” I repeated, and the weight of that responsibility settled over me like a mantle. Heavier than anything Vladimir had ever asked of me. More important than any mission or promise or obligation.
This was my family now. My wife. My child. My responsibility to protect and cherish and keep safe from all the darkness that wanted to destroy them.
And I would. No matter what it cost. No matter what promises I had to break. No matter how many ghosts I had to face.
Sebastian Davis’s days were numbered. I’d already set things in motion—Timur hunting his connections, Andrei tracking his money, my own skills deployed to find every digital footprint the bastard had left. It was only a matter of time before we found him.
And when we did, when I finally had him in front of me—I was going to make him pay for every moment of fear he’d inflicted on Barbara. Every tear. Every nightmare. Every second she’d spent believing she was alone.
But that was tomorrow’s problem. Tomorrow’s mission. Tomorrow’s violence.
Tonight was about this. About Barbara safe in my arms, her breathing evening out as sleep claimed her. About the peace on her face that I’d helped put there. About the future we were building in defiance of everyone who said we couldn’t, shouldn’t, wouldn’t survive.