He pulled me forward and pressed a kiss to my forehead like a benediction. A confession ripped from the deepest part of his soul. “That’s why I hated you . . . that, and the fact I’d do it all again to save you. I became this man bound to hell for you, and I’d do it again every single time to save you.”
I didn’t know how the hell to respond. It was too sad and messed up. Too fucking tragic.
“Kirill, you talk like it’s all said and done. You’re not two people. You’re one—my Kirill. We can change everything else.”
“I’m not him, Molly. Don’t expect me to be. You’ll be disappointed, and I can’t take disappointing you one more time.”
With those cryptic words, he grabbed me around the waist and threw me back onto the bed. I landed on the springy mattress, and he was on me before I could sit up. His hands spread my thighs wide, pushing my nightgown up around my waist, and before I could say a word, his hot tongue traced a hard, scorching path up my center. Pleasure blazed out, lighting me up and ringing my nerves like tiny bells. His tongue burrowed between my folds and fucked into me before moving to my clit.
“Fuck, how are you so good at that?” I murmured as my thoughts dissolved like sugar in hot water.
“I’ve got a lizard’s tongue and a big fucking nose,” he muttered, making me laugh despite the heaviness only seconds ago.
“You’re trying to distract me,” I panted as he wet a finger in his mouth and sank it inside me. I looked up to see his face framed between my thighs, eyes hot like lava, blazing into mine.
“Maybe,” he said thickly, working a second finger into my tightness. “Or maybe I want to wreck you like you wreck me.”
“You already do,” I moaned.
He shook his head. “Impossible. No one wrecks anyone like you wreck me.” Then he lowered his head to his task and set to work, flicking my clit with his firm, pointed tongue as he finger fucked me.
The first time I came, he held me down and saw me through it. The second time, I tried to crawl away afterward, too sensitive and twitching with pleasure to stand his touch a second longer, but he only dragged me back. The third and fourth times, he tied me to the bedposts with a belt at each wrist and made me scream. He never entered me with anything other than his fingers and his clever tongue. He left me shaking and sweating in a mess of fluids on his mattress.
When I begged for mercy because it was too much, he knelt over me, his strong thighs bracketing my hips, and the sound of him beating off filled the room. I lay sated and wrung out as he striped his spend in long white ribbons across my bare chest. Breathing hard, he sank back and stared down at me like he was trying to memorize the sight, and then he moved to clean me up. Instead of getting a tissue, he rubbed his release into my skin in long, dragging circles, massaging my tits until I was boneless, my skin moist and smelling like him.
He stood on shaky legs. I knew how he felt. I’d never have managed to stand right now.
“Stay.” I grabbed his hand before he could leave me, like always.
He paused, his dark shadow looming over me. He never stayed. I didn’t know why I thought he might this time. He stayed there a long moment before moving toward me. He climbed into the bed and turned me so I was cocooned in his strong arms and my back was pressed against his chest. He arranged my hair so it wasn’t in his face and rested his chin above my head.
Something monumental had shifted between us at some point in the dark. Or maybe it was always going to happen, and he’d finally stopped fighting it.
For the first time in seven years, I was home.
40
MOLLY
Iwoke to soft kisses trailing along my shoulder. It took me a moment to remember where I was. In my room in the Tower, with Kirill in my bed. He was still there, kissing me, his body hard against my back as his hands caressed my eager skin.
He rolled me toward him, leaning on one strong arm and gazing down at me. His eyes were clear, a beautiful green and gold in the morning light. I could see his tattoos for the first time, and I let my finger fall to my name over his heart. It seemed like there was a spell over us right then.
“Why did we have to go to the panic room last night? Were you expecting the boogieman to break in here or something?”
“Or something,” Kirill murmured, kissing me. “Enough talking.” He shifted on top of me, cradling my face with both hands. It was an intimate position, especially in the harsh morning light. There was no hiding in shadows, and his hungry eyes on me made me blush, which was crazy considering all the things we’d done together.
He pushed inside me. I was already wet and desperate for him. He gathered me in his arms and held me tight as he began to move. A tear escaped my eye and ran down my cheek. He caught it with his mouth and kissed a line up my cheek. This was what I’d been waiting on. Lovemaking. Him allowing me to see him in the light.
I held him as I rose effortlessly. He played my body expertly like the last few weeks had taught him mastery over every part of me, and he was an expert in what I liked.
He rotated his hips, grinding down on my public bone and catching my clit, and his dick rubbed a spot inside me that made me cry out his name. My nails sank into his back as I arched beneath him, clamping down on his length as I came.
He followed, a growl of possession leaving him as he jerked inside me, pushing in as far as he could and filling me to the brim with his warmth. His hands bunched in the pillows, and his entire body strained and tensed as he came endlessly. I could feel each pulse as he emptied into my willing body.
When he pulled out, it felt like an unbearable loss. I stayed near him, limpet-like, as he rolled onto his back and let out a long breath. I nudged my head onto his pec, making a space for myself on his chest, and he chuckled.
“Did you like that? Is that Molly-style lovemaking?” he asked, his voice a rumble in his chest.