Velella

48. Run to You

RUN TO YOU

For the second morning in a row, I’m awoken before sunrise.

This time, Lev is in bed with me. Hovering over me actually, like a human blanket.

He casts so much heat that I kicked off most of the covers during the night.

All I can feel is the slide of his hot, firm skin against mine, the definition of his impressive musculature, and the rasp of his happy trail.

“Hi,” I whisper sleepily, sighing when he shifts so his erection slides between my thighs. I lift my knees, hooking my ankles above his ass.

I hear his low chuckle—feel the vibration against my chest—before he presses inside.

It’s so good. Different from the frenzy of last night.

Sensual and slow, each deep thrust stimulating nerve endings I’m not normally aware of.

It’s almost hazy, like a really good dream I don’t ever want to wake up from.

I arch my back as much as I can in this position, even enjoying the stretch and the slight soreness.

They’re a reminder of how full I am, how intimately connected we are.

He’s doing all the work, but my breathing is as erratic as a marathoner’s. I can hear my own rapid inhales in the dark room as our bodies move together, that distinctive flare of pleasure burning brighter and hotter as he fucks me into the mattress.

I dig my nails into his shoulders, needing something to hold on to, feeling the solid muscles bunch beneath his skin. His huge dick hardens even more, or maybe that’s me constricting around him. I’m so close, tingling and tensing as my body begins to convulse.

I cry out as I come, too consumed by the pleasure to care about any inhibitions. Thankfully, this house is huge, and Lev’s room is in its own wing. I doubt hearing us have sex would elevate his family’s opinion of me at all.

Once I’ve come, Lev lets go. I’m addicted to the sensation of feeling his hot cum seep inside of me.

I take some primal satisfaction from it, and I think he does too.

Sticky liquid is already dripping out when he withdraws, probably mixing with last night’s release.

He smears it around with his fingers, coating my clit.

Rubbing circles until I’m panting again.

I think I won’t be able to come again right up until the second it happens, leaving me a sweaty, heaving mess.

I’m so sensitive that the brush of air feels like too much stimulation.

Lev rolls away and off the bed like nothing happened. “Time to go,” he says.

I blink rapidly, disoriented and sated. I feel drunk almost and like I could sleep for a week straight.

I have no phone to check the time, and there’s no clock in sight, but the lack of light tells me it’s early.

Yesterday, I understood the urgency of getting out of bed.

But today? He didn’t mention anything about waking up early before fucking me for two hours last night.

“Go where?” I ask, but he either doesn’t hear me or doesn’t feel like answering.

When I glance to where he was standing last, he’s gone. A light is on in the bathroom.

I groan, snuggling back into the mattress and tossing an arm across my eyes. If he wants me to—

My arm is moved away, and I squint at a serious-looking Lev. He’s turned on more lights. And put on clothes.

“Let’s go,” he says.

“Go where?” I repeat, more irritated this time.

I’ve never been a morning person, and I’m particularly averse this morning. I can’t remember the last time I got more than six hours of sleep in one night, and multiple orgasms are a better drug than melatonin.

“Put on something comfortable,” he says before striding away from the bed.

I force myself to sit up. “Do I need my gun?” I call after him, which is a sentence I can’t even believe I have to ask.

“No,” he replies without glancing back, which reassures me some.

It probably means we won’t run into his family on this outing, and that’s likely why we’re leaving so early again. Maybe I should fully convert to a nocturnal schedule.

I stumble into the bathroom, grateful I bothered to unpack my new toiletries last night. I feel much better after running through my normal routine. Lev doesn’t try to rush me, which I appreciate.

I didn’t unpack all my new clothes, so it takes me a couple of minutes to sort through the bags and find a T-shirt and a pair of leggings.

Once I’m fully dressed, I follow him into the hallway.

Most of the house’s lights seem to remain on twenty-four hours, including the bright floodlights illuminating the yard.

I can see them through some of the windows to my left, and I wonder if all bedrooms are situated on the right side to allow sleeping.

Their electricity bill must be outrageous.

Lev is armed, I notice. I’m not sure if that’s normal for him or if he’s being extra cautious.

I’m still overwhelmed by the size of the house, but I’m starting to recognize certain areas.

I think I could navigate from the front door to his room on my own, having walked that route twice, and it feels important to get my bearings as quickly as possible.

I’m at a disadvantage in plenty of other ways; memorizing the building’s layout is one I can improve in.

We head outside through the main entrance today, not the side one we snuck out before. There are four armed guards past the door, not two.

Lev pauses, so I do, too, although I’d prefer to speed-walk past the hulking figures holding machine guns and wearing unfriendly expressions.

“This is Viktor, Ivan, Artem, and Andrey.” Lev points to each man as he says their name, and I try to memorize their faces.

They’re all tall and terrifying, which makes distinguishing individual traits more challenging. Artem has a trimmed beard. Viktor looks younger than the others. He doesn’t smile, but his eyes crease in the corners like he’s suppressing one.

Viktor says something in Russian.

Artem shakes his head in disapproval.

Lev’s barked response smooths Victor’s face instantly. He gives a quick nod.

I understand none of the exchange, but the atmosphere feels less tense following whatever Viktor said.

Lev says something else. My name is mixed in. All four men nod in reply this time.

I wonder if he called me his wife again. If so, I wish he’d spoken in English.

Lev turns, striding toward the garage. I give the men a hasty wave, feeling ridiculous until I notice Viktor’s eyes have creased again. I think Ivan’s lips twitch too.

“I want to learn Russian,” I say when I catch up to Lev—I suspect he slowed his pace for me some.

“Go ahead,” he drawls.

I huff. “Obviously, I need your help.”

“We can go over some basic phrases later.”

“Will one of them be what Viktor said?”

“No.”

I sigh. “Where are we driving to?”

“Nowhere. We’re running.”

“Wait, what?” I halt, so he does, too, with an annoyed sigh. “I don’t like running. I had—”

“The slowest mile time in gym class.”

“Well, yeah.” I cross my arms, mostly for warmth because the sun has not risen.

Running at any time is unpleasant. Running early in the morning? My idea of hell.

I’m a little embarrassed he remembered that ancient confession. A tiny bit flattered too. I forget sometimes that Lev has known me since high school.

“I will teach you to fight, too, but you might not always be able to. You might have to run, and you need to be able to.”

Now, I understand. I should have anticipated it. He’s the one who taught me how to swim. To shoot. He’s giving me tools to take care of myself, which my father never did.

I think of the deference displayed yesterday. Powerful people have powerful enemies. Marriage to Lev will protect me from a lot. It also could put me in danger.

Then I think of my mom, shot in the street to teach my father a lesson. Lev knows she’s dead, but I never told him it was no accident. He doesn’t know I’m more aware of the risks than anyone else.

He does read the fear on my face. Steps closer. “I swear you are safe here. And that I will keep you safe. But we prepare for anything.”

I nod.

He nods back.

And we start running.

After a few minutes, I gather enough courage to ask, “How far are we running?”

“Not that far. I assumed you were out of shape.”

I scowl at him, offended by the—correct—assumption. “I exercise in other ways.”

He grins. “I know.”

I was talking about swimming, but he’s referring to sex. I’m still sensitive, and the tight fabric of my leggings doesn’t diminish the awareness. Thinking about this morning is a nice distraction though, and the lingering endorphins are helping too. My calves burn, but it’s a bearable ache.

“There’s no pool here, right?”

His smile fades. “No pool here. We can move somewhere else in a few months.”

“Really?” I’m buoyed by this news.

“Aleksandr moved out when he got married. If we leave right away, it will look weak, like we were pushed out. But we don’t need to stay here forever. I have to stay close for work, but we will be farther than this.” He gestures to the wooded trail we’re running along.

I’m really hoping it’s part of a loop, not that I’ll be expected to repeat all the distance we’ve already covered. The discomfort has spread, so my lungs are burning too. My stomach is empty, but I still imagine I can feel the contents sloshing around. I silently pray I don’t vomit in front of him.

Finally, I see the house again. Any relief about approaching the end is quickly snuffed out by exhaustion. I’m too tired to care that we’re close to finishing. I want to be done now.

Lev can tell I’m flagging. My red face, sweat-soaked shirt, and excessive panting must have given me away. Probably how I looked under him earlier, but at least then, I felt too good to care about my appearance.

“Push through,” he coaches me. “You’re almost there.”

I lost the ability to speak a while ago, so I try to nod. I’m not sure he can tell.

“Pretend you’re swimming. Take a breath, then count how many strokes to the wall.”

That helps more than anything else has. I’ve swum longer than I thought I could many times before, and the visualization is familiar.

I pretend there’s cool water surrounding me, that I’m almost to where I want to be, but not quite.

I close my eyes, sucking in a deep breath like I’m preparing to be underwater.

I close my eyes, and when they open, I’m back by the garage.

I collapse on the ground, which I know is not the proper running etiquette. You’re supposed to walk around with your hands on your head or something. Not happening.

The sun is starting to peek out. Lev’s height blocks it as he stands over me, grinning. He opens his water bottle, squirting some cold liquid on me before offering me the bottle.

Water is the one thing I want right now, so I crawl into an upright position before swallowing a hasty sip.

“You did well.”

His praise warms me more than the sunshine. I don’t care if he’s lying. I made it the whole way, yeah, but I doubt the distance was that impressive.

“You might have to carry me inside,” I say, gulping down more water. “Very high chance.”

Lev is still grinning. I could run a marathon if that smile was waiting for me at the finish line.

He holds a hand out, and I let him hoist me upward. My tired legs trip over nothing but flat ground, and I crash into his firm chest. And once I’m there, I don’t want to move. I want to live here forever, pressed against him.

Lev kisses the top of my head, which he’s never done before. Hope swells in my chest. I don’t regret marrying him, and I know I never will. But I’ll spend the rest of my life worrying he’ll regret marrying me.

Love and loyalty aren’t the same thing, and I know Lev’s life has been centered around the latter.

If we were married for more than a day, I might say it now.

But it’s been less than twenty-four hours, so I simply close my eyes again.

This time, I don’t pretend I’m anywhere else. I’m already exactly where I want to be.

Lev suddenly stiffens. I react, too, straightening so I’m standing on my own, and glance around to assess the threat.

It takes me two sweeps to see him.

Maksim is leaning against a smaller building beside the garage, smoking. He’s motionless, the only movement the smoke unfurling from the end of his lit cigarette. He stares, saying nothing.

Lev heads for the house. I follow him, stealing occasional sips of water.

I glance back once before going inside, and Maksim is gone.