The shower lasted longer than usual.
Not only did I scrub clean every inch until it turned red, but I also stood under the streaming water for twenty minutes so it could cleanse away those assholes’ filthy touch.
It didn’t help much. I feel like no matter how much I clean myself, there’s something dirty inside that I can’t reach.
Why do women have to deal with this everywhere we go? The whole outdated victim-blaming speech about ‘what you were wearing’ is laughable in this case. I was dressed as a damn man, but even that didn’t stop them.
During the entire process of cleaning and hating myself, I expect Kirill to either bang on the door or come inside to inspect what’s taking me so long, or both.
Surprisingly, none of the above happens, even though I’ve been in the shower for over forty minutes.
Kirill might have let me use his company for comfort, but he’s not a patient man, and he certainly doesn’t react well to any bursts of emotion.
I was surprised that he not only sat next to me earlier but also let me hug him and cry against his chest like a baby.
That’s not the Kirill I know, which made the gesture have more of an impact. I’m not sure anyone else would’ve been able to calm me down or wrench me out of those self-destructive thoughts.
I slip on a bathrobe that swallows me whole and stops right above my ankles and make sure to wrap the belt around my waist.
I can’t believe I threw myself in Kirill’s arms while I was completely naked. Talk about embarrassing myself.
Truth is, I’ve never been the type who’s comfortable with being naked, even before I had to disguise myself as a man.
Since the army, I’ve become so careful about that in order to protect my identity. So to say what happened earlier was normal would be a giant lie. The other day, too, after his nightmare. I willingly opened the blanket and hugged him while I was in the nude.
I’m almost certain it’s only because it’s Kirill. I don’t think I’d have the same reaction if it were anyone else.
It’s both fascinating and terrifying that he’s my first in many things—first crush, first sex, first heartbreak, and now, first—and only—person whose presence I feel comfortable and safe in since the massacre.
He’s slowly but surely occupying so much room in my life, and if he’s somehow removed, the gap will be too big to control.
I internally shake my head to chase away those thoughts.
On my way out, I catch my reflection in the bathroom mirror and freeze. My cheeks are red, lips puffy, and my eyes shine with an unfamiliar light. It’s almost as if I look…radiant.
What the hell?
I want to deny those thoughts and shove them where no one can see, but as I step out, my heart thunders louder, harder, and with so much intensity, I think I’ll faint.
After trying and failing to control my illogical reaction, I head to the sitting area opposite the bed.
My shoulders drop when I find no trace of him.
Did he go to the office? But it’s late, and I’m sure that even he needs some downtime before he gets back to business.
Sometimes, I wonder if he’s a machine. It feels as if he was trained to always give two hundred percent of his attention and energy. That if he gives anything less, it’s an insult to his intelligence and capabilities.
But surely, he realizes how damaging that rhythm can be long-term. I don’t think he cares, though. I’m the only one who does.
I grab my phone from the nightstand and check my messages. My heart nearly leaps out of my throat when I find his name at the top of my notifications.
Kirill: I’m out on an errand. Get some rest. You’re off tomorrow.
I let myself fall on the mattress, chest inflating with the heavy weight of disappointment.
What type of errand could he have this late in the evening? He already had his meeting with the Pakhan, so what is this, and most importantly, why am I not part of it?
I pace the length of the room for what seems like an hour, then stare out of the window at the main entrance for another half an hour. When the car doesn’t show up, I text Maksim and Yuri but get no reply.
Does that mean they’re on whatever this errand is?
I glare at the phone. Why do they get to take part in it and I don’t? Besides, how could Kirill throw himself in danger’s way again after we barely escaped this day’s predicaments?
The fear I had when I woke up in that damn basement creeps back in me from all directions. If Kirill gets hurt and I’m not there to protect him, I’ll never forgive myself.
I lie down on the bed and try to expel those thoughts, but they continue haunting me in the form of gruesome images.
Shootings. Bombs. Snipers.
Stop it.
I lunge into a standing position and do over a hundred push-ups. Then I shower again, but this time, I let the cold water turn my skin blue. It does nothing to quench the fire inside me.
And Kirill is still not here.
My attention is divided between the door, my phone that has no new text messages, and the clock on the wall that’s now ticking past two in the morning.
Just when I think I’m going insane, the door softly opens. I jump up at the same time Kirill walks inside.
A low gasp leaves me when I catch a glimpse of blood splashed on his shirt, his neck, and face. Some form a blurry red smear on his glasses, probably from when he wiped them.
He strides inside with his usual leisure, not paying attention to all the blood that’s been the theme for the night.
Upon seeing me, he pauses and narrows his eyes slightly. I run to him and force myself to stop before I hug him or do something equally idiotic.
“What…what happened?” I can’t look away from the blood. I really, really hate that fucking stuff. Call me superstitious, but whenever I see it, I get a horrible feeling.
I probably shouldn’t have been in the army or the mafia. In hindsight, those two are terrible career choices.
But then again, I only get this hectic when those I care about are injured, specifically Kirill.
“Nothing much.” He casually removes his jacket and throws it on a nearby chair. “I only took care of some unfinished business.”
“What unfinished business?”
“Whatever remained of the Albanians’ nests. What are you doing up? I specifically told you to rest.”
“As if I could do that when you disappeared in the middle of the night. And don’t change the subject. You went after the rest of the Albanians on your own?”
“That’s what I said. But I wasn’t alone; Viktor, Yuri, and Maksim came along. I invited Damien, too. And while it was tedious to witness him laugh like a maniac the entire time, including him in action, it makes him owe me. We blew up their hideout and killed whoever didn’t die.”
“But why would you do that? Their other branches might come after you.”
“Let them. They’ll meet the same fate.”
“That’s not how it works, Kirill! You’re not the type who starts wars without a reason.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. I have a perfectly solid reason.”
“And what is that, I wonder?”
“They hurt you, and that’s enough incentive for war. I couldn’t be there to stop them. What I could do, however, is finish every last one of them.”
I think my heart is about to explode. That, or I’m having some form of heart issues that need to be checked.
How can he…render me speechless with a few words? Just how can he make me feel so cherished with a small sentence?
My voice softens. “I’m thankful for that, but as I said before, being the reason behind your problems brings me no joy. I don’t want you to collect enemies just because of me.”
“I only hear that you’re thankful. Everything else is redundant.”
“But—”
He jams his index finger against my mouth, causing me to shut up mid-objection.
“I don’t want to hear whatever you have to say, because it’ll only piss me off, and, considering the amount of anger and adrenaline in my system, I might react drastically toward that.” He releases a charged breath and removes his finger. “Today has been a long fucking day, so why don’t you go to sleep?”
“What about you?” I whisper.
“I’ll go through a few reports.”
“You should rest, too.”
His eyes darken as they fall on my chest before he slowly slides them back to my face. “Just go.”
I look down and find that the opening of the bathrobe shows a hint of my breasts.
Is that what made his eyes darken and caused his demeanor to stiffen? I don’t really get my answer, but a strange compulsion pushes me to stare at him even as my cheeks catch flames. “I’m not tired.”
“Sasha…” The warning in his deep, somber tone strikes me in my bones. “If you don’t move this instant, you can only blame yourself for what I’ll do.”
My limbs shake, and tingles erupt all over my body, but I refuse to move. If anything, this place right here feels like the best place to be.
A second passes.
Two.
On the third, Kirill grabs me by my nape, fingers digging into my skin, and crashes my body to his.
Just like that, his hungry lips capture my starving ones.
I release a long breath that feels like relief. I’ve been starved for so long, and now that I have his intense touch again, it’s like I’m being struck by lightning.
He threads his fingers in my hair as the hard muscles of his body overpower my softer build. No matter how much I train, I could never measure up to the way his body is built like a weapon.
“Just so you know…” He wrenches his lips from mine and tears away his shirt.
The buttons fly everywhere before the blood-soaked material hits the ground. I’m rewarded with the view of his beautiful tattoos splayed across his rock-hard abs and chest.
His hands travel down, unbuckling his belt. “I’m going to fuck you, Sasha, and I’m going to do it so hard and fast, it’ll hurt.”
Electricity strikes my whole body, but I refuse to move. In fact, my body melts, waiting for his touch. I even undo the belt of my bathrobe.
It should be disturbing that I yearn for someone who not only doesn’t trust me but could also be involved in my family’s death.
But that’s the thing. I don’t think he is.
Kirill is a monster, but he’s not that type of monster.
A lust-filled look passes through his gaze as he removes his belt and pushes his pants and boxers down. His animalistic eyes never sway from me the entire time. He wants to watch me watch him.
It’s a small detail, but the fact that he always insists on maintaining eye contact during sex is one of the reasons why I’ve always felt we have more than a mere physical connection.
There’s an intimacy in the gesture, and, for a moment in time, it’s only the two of us.
I’m lost in the eternal beauty of his naked body. He also has a few tattoos on his thigh that he got a few months ago. There are ravens flying toward his groin. The first time I saw it was when he was getting it, and I had to stand there and stop myself from getting hot and bothered.
My personal favorite, however, is the newest one he got a month ago on his right thigh. A satanic skull surrounded by a beautiful sun.
Kirill throws his glasses aside and wraps the belt around my throat, then he uses it to pull me in his direction. I gasp, but it turns into a moan when his lips devour mine again. Earlier, he was abrupt, but now, it’s more intense, as if he’s sucking the life out of me.
Kirill kisses without a filter. He’s not flirty or gentle, and he’s certainly not trying to pursue me.
No.
He’s simply conquering me.
But he’s passionate and pours all his energy into it, giving two hundred percent like in all other areas of his life. The hard pebbles of my nipples rub against the toned ridges of his chest, causing painful friction.
But none of that matters.
My mind is filled with only one thing—Kirill is touching me again. After months of torture in its worst forms, he’s finally looking at me like I look at him when he’s not paying attention.
The twisted desire that burns inside my chest is reflected in his arctic wolf eyes.
He rids me of my bathrobe so that we’re skin to skin. Heartbeat to heartbeat. Though mine is crazy compared to his. I wish I had the mental ability to control the sheer amount of emotions I have for this man.
Still holding me with the belt around my neck, he lifts my leg to his waist and then pushes. I stumble as my back hits the mattress.
His mouth leaves mine, but the agitation still lurks on his set jaw and stiff muscles. When he speaks, his words are deep, charged, almost completely devout of the control he’s so good at maintaining. “I meant to leave you alone tonight, I really did. But you’re a greedy little whore for my cock, aren’t you, Solnyshko?”
My heart bursts.
I’ll agree to anything if he calls me by that nickname. Absolutely anything.
I honestly thought he’d never use it again, and I almost forgot just how ethereal it feels to be called his sun.
The earth revolves around the sun. But my world is starting to revolve around him, and I’m not sure how I feel about that.
“You belong to me,” he lets out against my ear and then bites down. He releases the belt and thrusts three fingers inside my starved pussy in one go.
My back arches and everything bursts—lust, longing, and…even gratitude.
It hits me then. He has a hold on my mind, and I think, my heart, too, because it’s beating like crazy.
“Your cunt is mine to do with as I please. I’m the only one who can control your pleasure or the lack thereof. This is fucking mine.”
He thrusts in a maddening rhythm, curling and scissoring his fingers. I push off the mattress, writhing, and moaning the loudest I ever have.
Unlike a few days ago, Kirill isn’t punishing or torturing me. This isn’t orgasm denial.
Not even close.
He’s touching me with the sole purpose of pushing me to the edge as soon as possible.
He’s proving that he’s the only one who has this much control over my sexual appetite. The only one who can make me this animalistic for his touch.
Sure enough, a few strokes later, I’m screaming. The waves engulf and swallow me whole. The release is so intense that I cease breathing for a few moments.
“Everything about you is mine,” he says in dark words as he pulls his fingers from inside me and replaces them with his cock.
It’s so huge and hard that I go into a mini-shock, but for some reason, more wetness coats my inner thighs, and my pussy tightens around his girth and length, demanding even more inside me.
Kirill drags me to the edge of the bed while he’s standing. My legs are bent on either side of his sculpted waist as he uses the strength of his thighs to thrust into me.
He’s pure power. Absolutely maddening in its form and impossible to keep up with.
But I place my palms on his strong abs anyway. I need the connection, the feel of his skin on mine, the reminder that he’s actually touching me again.
He wants me again.
I never stopped wanting him, so to have that feeling finally reciprocated is like floating on clouds.
So I don’t care that it hurts with each thrust. I don’t care that I will probably walk funny tomorrow.
As long as I can have him all to myself like this.
“Even your pussy knows it belongs to me. Do you feel how it’s welcoming my cock home?”
I nod.
“No one but me will touch you, own you, hurt you. No fucking one.” He leans down, grabs the ends of the belt that’s still around my throat, and pulls in opposite directions. “You’re my fucking property, Solnyshko.”
I can’t breathe.
Oh, fuck. I can’t breathe.
But even as I think that, I can feel the orgasm swallowing me. My mouth opens in a wordless scream as warmth fills my insides.
Kirill pulls out, loosens the belt from around my neck, and tugs me to a sitting position and thrusts his semi-hard cock in my mouth and finishes coming down my throat.
“I want you to lick every drop like a good girl.”
I cough, but I dart my tongue to suck his cock and my lips. My eyes remain on his the whole time, enjoying how they darken by just watching me.
And just like that, I completely forgot about today’s violation.
Kirill is right.
I only belong to him.
