Years of sexual frustration, of wondering what had been wrong with her to want a man like Vadim, dissipated. He gave her hair a little tug, and she realized she liked that bit of pain. Their tongues tangled, teeth clashed. Vadim bared her throat and licked her pulse point, making her shudder. He grazed his teeth where shoulder flowed to neck, then bit, making her groan.
Her breasts felt full, nipples hardening to points, and Eve didn't stop him from sliding one callused hand past the hem of her shirt. His touch burned, but she craved the heat he provided. Vadim thumbed her left nipple, gave it a twist, a tug. She gasped, widening her eyes as he did the same with her right nipple.
“Mine,” he whispered against her ear, breath warm. “All mine.”
Vadim said those words like a man confident of his possession. Eve didn’t voice her complaint, for she’d known the truth in her bones ever since they met at her sister’s wedding. Her guilty conscience seemed like a small thing now. Irrelevant.
He thrust his tongue down her throat, and she sucked down on it, aware of the bulge in his jeans, digging against the thin fabric of her shirt. Their clothes had to go. To her frustration, he pulled away, and she blinked in confusion when he extended a hand towards her.
“Come back inside, princess. We’ll make breakfast together. If you have more questions, ask.”
She glanced at the key on the ground again, and stooped down to pick it up, aware Vadim watched her every move. He stood still as a statue, clenching his jaw. Eve handed the key back to him.
****
Relieved she hadn’t attempted escape, Vadim closed his fingers over her small gift of trust, one he’d never abuse. Once he tucked the key away in his back pocket, he offered her his hand again. Her fingers closed over his, and he led them back inside.
Eve remained silent, even when they prepared breakfast together. Three days ago, Vadim had bought enough supplies from the nearest town, enough for the two of them to last a month.
She winced when he took out the slightly burnt bacon with a spatula and nudged him aside. “Let me, you’ll waste good quality bacon.”
Bemused, he handed her the spatula.
“Sit, I’ll do the rest. If I need something, I’ll ask.”
“Am I your little assistant chef then?”
She rolled her eyes at him. “Do you even know how to handle a frying pan?”
“I usually order in when I come home.”
“How do you even muster up an appetite after killing some poor innocent bastard?”
She squeaked when he approached her from behind and wrapped his arms around her. Eve didn’t resist him, although if she showed any indication of refusal, Vadim would instantly back off. Contrary to the rumors surrounding him, Vadim wasn’t unnecessarily cruel and didn’t force himself on the unwilling.
Ironic, given he’d tossed out part of his conscience a long time ago to be a more effective killer, but he hadsomestandards.
“None of the fuckers I’ve killed were innocent. Don’t cast your judgmental eyes on me, princess. You of all people know what people like me and your father are capable of.”
Vadim didn’t lie. Maybe when he’d been younger, still under the influence of his father, he didn’t have the luxury of picking his targets. After his father died, he made his own decisions. He might not be a decent man, but there were always worse than he was, those who deemed themselves untouchable by the law.
Eve slumped her shoulders, the collar of his shirt slipping to one side. He nibbled on the bit of exposed flesh, dick straining hard against the zipper of his jeans. Such a small gesture, but he could no longer contain the hunger that had built inside him ever since their paths crossed.
“Sweet.”
“What?”
“You taste sweet, and I can’t wait to have more.”
Eve scoffed, and he raised his head, nuzzling her neck. Vadim couldn’t stop touching her, wanted so much more, but knew at this stage, their relationship—if it could even be called that—was too delicate. Any wrong move or word could send Eve retreating to one corner.
“Weren’t you the one who pulled away from the kiss? Why? Found me disappointing?”
“The exact opposite. Better than I imagined, but you’re not ready.”
Like a good little boy, Vadim took a seat at the dining table like she initially instructed. Eve painted a pretty picture by the stove, dressed in one of his shirts, barefoot and focused on the task of making them decent breakfast. A wave of possessiveness filled him, took root in him. Whoever touched her, ruined this perfect moment, he’d gut without remorse.
Never in Vadim’s imagination had he seen himself longing for a seemingly deceptive domestic arrangement, but fuck him. He wanted to wake up every morning with her soft curves pressed against him, his cock buried deep inside her cunt. The night before, he’d fill both her holes with his seed, like a dog marking his territory.