I’d only get hurt in the end, even if inadvertently.
22
Arlo
Sleep would never come tonight, not after killing Leonid, and not after claiming Galina. I’d held her for hours, her soft body molded to mine, the sweet scent that clung to her hair filling my nose every time I inhaled. Her arousal and virgin blood drying on my cock was a reminder that I didn’t deserve her but that I wouldn’t let her go.
I’d kept a constant touch on her, my fingers moving against her arm, down her back, brushing strands of silky dark hair away from her face just so I could look at her and watch her sleep.
I’d never considered myself a lucky man. That wasn’t something life gave you. I’d scraped the bottom of the barrel to be able to survive, clawed my way out of a buried grave with dirt under my nails and blood covering my body just so I could make it the next day. But as I stared at Galina’s sleeping face, counted each long, thick lash that formed dark crescents along her alabaster skin, I knew for the first time in my life, I was lucky. Because she was mine.
I’d been afraid of my turbulent emotions and the tightness in my body waking her, so for the last hour I’d been sitting at the table, cleaning my gun, the meticulous work good for my thoughts, helping calm the raging emotions inside me. They were foreign, not something I’d ever experienced or wanted, and they were all because of Galina. Now that I tasted them, I never wanted them to go away.
I could hear her stirring, imagined the sheets sliding against her smooth, bare skin. I was hard already, had been since she fell asleep in my arms, her head on my chest, her silky hair fanned across my chest.
My cock throbbed; my balls ached. I wanted her again. And again and again.
I felt my muscles tighten more as the need to fuck Galina again slammed into me. I wanted to tangle my hand in her hair and jerk her head back as I buried my face in the graceful line of her throat.
And as if my thoughts called her to me, she stepped out from the hallway, the white sheet wrapped around the lithe curves of her body. She had the material bunched together right above her breasts, one hand holding it in what I imagined was a white-knuckled grip.
The sight of her did something to my chest, something powerful and dangerous. Irreversible.
I set the piece I’d been cleaning down and pushed the chair back. Just enough. “Come here.”
I saw the tightening of her nipples under that too-thin sheet as my words affected her. She didn’t speak as she came forward, the material dragging softly against the hardwood, the swoosh-swoosh noise filling the thick silence.
She stopped a couple of feet from me, the pulse at the base of her ear telling me how her body responded to me. Fast. Erratic.
“Come closer, malen'koye solnyshko.” Little sunshine. That’s what she was. Light to my darkness. Warmth to my cold.
Her eyes lowered to my cock, and she saw how hard I was for her already. Come closer, Galina. Come closer to the wolf who’s so hungry he’ll devour you without a thought.
And then she let the sheet fall away, her body naked and soft, the lights from the city right outside the window whispering across her skin, the shadows playing along the perfect lines and curves of her form.
Come here and let me consume you like you’ve already done to me. Let me ruin you as much as you’ve caused every part of me to crumble to the gritty floor.
She took another step toward me, and another. I couldn’t stop myself, didn’t even try to act like I had any control where she was concerned. I reached out and curled my hand around her waist, my finger sticking into her soft flesh. Too hard, too forcefully. There would be marks tomorrow. But I couldn’t find any reason to care. I wanted those bruises littering her soft, pale body. I wanted to be able to look at them and know she got them because of me… because she was mine.
I yanked her forward until she stumbled onto me, her legs on either side of my thighs. She straddled me, her pussy pressed right against my cock. She gasped, and I slid my hand up her waist, whispering along the curve of her breast before wrapping my fingers loosely around her throat. I added a little bit of pressure, a reminder that she was mine. A physical, visceral reminder to her. “Say it. Say the words.”
She gasped, and I pulled her toward me even more, our lips barely brushing, her breath mixing with mine. I inhaled deeply, taking her into my lungs, needing to survive off her.