The entire time he told me about the history of the building, how he purchased it years ago, gutted it and had it completely renovated. His apartment was the only one in the building, but he also had some storage space on an upper level, and an office that he used one below. It was strange seeing Nikolai in that latter light… a legitimate businessman and not only as a criminal.
But I supposed those two lives were interchangeable in the underworld.
He told me about all the little details, the mundane pieces of information that seemed so very “normal”, for what a couple shared. He let me know the schedule of the staff who came in and cleaned, and how he had a secretary who came in several days a week and did office work on the lower level.
He talked about how the building was secure, that I was always safe when he wasn’t at home, that he had men who patrolled the perimeter, and security cameras that monitored everyone who came and went.
He assured me no one would touch me while I was here, not even my father.
He explained his schedule could have him gone for long hours each day, but that he’d make sure he was home so we could eat dinner together every night.
Home.
Hearing him say that one word, expressing in that way how we shared the same space, probably shouldn’t have made me feel as good as it did.
After that he suggested I take a bath and relax, and I’d been so stunned to see this gentle side of him that I’d stood there long after he’d left the master suite, just starting after him. Of course I didn’t have much to go off of in being surprised by anything he did, but because he was a man in the same kind of criminal organization my father was, I assumed they were one and the same.
And although I wasn’t a fool in thinking he wasn’t just as deadly—maybe even more so—than my father, in only a few days’ time I was finding out he wasn’t like the evil monster I’d painted him out to be. Not to me at least.
So I’d taken a bubble bath, soaking in that massive tub until the water had become chilled and my fingers had pruned up. Then I’d wrapped myself in a push robe, until my skin had dried, and slipped on some leggings and an oversized sweater.
And here I was, sitting beside him on his couch, stuffed with good food, my head warm and loopy from the two glasses of wine I had, and feeling a different kind of heat fill me.
I stared at the television and let the words roll around in my head until they finally decided to spill forth. I reached for my glass of wine and finished it off, the sweet notes of berries hitting my tongue before sliding down my throat.
“This is all so…” I set my glass down and glanced over at him. He watched me stoically, then cocked an eyebrow as he waited for me to finish. “...domesticated.” I felt my cheeks beat at that admission and focused back on the TV.
“What did you think it would be like?” I shrugged and looked over at him again. “Thought I’d have you chained up in my bed so I could have my way with you any time I wanted?” He grabbed his beer bottle off the table and settled back on the couch as he brought the rim to his mouth and took a long pull from it.
I shouldn’t have felt the burst of humor at his words, but I found myself laughing softly.
“You should laugh more.” He brought his beer back to his mouth and drank deeply. “It’s pretty.”
My laughter died as something deliciously heated took its place.
“It’s just…” embarrassment had my words stalling.
“Don’t go all shy on me now, little doll.” The way he said that, and the look on his face told me he was thinking the same thing I was.
What we shared on our wedding night and on the plane.
“Unless you prefer to be chained up to my bed and at my mercy?” His voice dropped to a rougher octave then, and I physically shivered.
I knew he saw my physical reaction by the way his pupils expanded, his lips barely parting as he sucked in a breath. I was embarrassed by his words, not because he spoke them, but because of how much I wanted them to be true.
I was seamlessly turned on by the idea of Nikolai having his way with me.
His chuckle had me looking over at him, my face getting redder as embarrassment filtered through me. I was so transparent, his words having a physical effect on me that I couldn’t control. I gritted my teeth and stared back at the TV, but a second later I felt his thumb and forefinger gently pinch my chin as he turned my head in his direction.
Gone was any kind of amusement, and in its place was a seriousness that had my breath catching in the center of my throat. For long moments Nikolai didn’t speak, just stared into my eyes, his gaze slowly working along my chin and along the line of my jaw, before he made the trek back to my lips.
Back-and-forth, so slowly, as if he memorized every part of me.
With gentle pressure, he pulled me forward. I held my breath, but then started panting, my chest rising and falling far too fast to be considered normal. But Nikolai didn’t comment on my physical, visceral reaction to him. Instead he pushed his thumb between my mouth, making me suck on the digit.
Our mouths were so close, my eyes barely open, this lethargic sensation moving through me. I could’ve blamed it on the wine, on the full stomach, but it was all because of Nikolai.
I felt so dainty sitting beside him, tiny and small against his massive body. All I could do was breathe him in. All I could see was him. All I could feel was him.
He hummed low and I felt myself get slick, my body preparing itself for him. And then I felt the brush of his lips against mine. It couldn’t even be considered a kiss for as light as it was, yet I felt it in every single part of my body.
He slid the fingers that were holding my chin to the back of my neck. I let him take the lead, and liked that he was in control. I had a feeling even if I was experienced, I still would’ve wanted a man like Nikolai to show me how it was done.
With his hand on my nape, and more pressure being applied so he could tilt my head to the side, he opened the kiss. I moaned at the flavor of him, felt euphoric when he curled his fingers around my hair and tugged at the strands.
With each passing second his hold on me became more forceful, his kiss more demanding until he held a chunk of my hair in his fist, that sting causing my pussy to be soaked.
And that’s when he pushed his tongue inside, stroking me from the inside out, pressing the muscle against mine before retreating and repeating the action all over again. We did this for so long, slow and thorough kissing, that I was liquid between my thighs.
I was drenched, the soft material of my leggings rubbing against the most sensitive part of me. I was braless, something I now wished I hadn’t done because my nipples were rock hard and rubbed tortuously against the material of my sweater.
“I’ve never tasted anything sweeter” “His words were rumbled against my mouth and I felt the vibrations all the way down my body to settle right between my thighs.
He pressed his tongue in and pulled it out. In and out. In and out. The act couldn’t be called anything but a mimic of fucking. God how I wanted it–him–right now, so much so that my pussy clenched hard. And when my inner muscles relaxed I felt more wetness spill from me, no doubt creating a wet spot in the center of my leggings.
I tried to clamp my thighs together but my position made it impossible, what with one leg bent on the cushion and the other one on the ground.