I can’t stop.
I say I will after one more time as I lift her up and lay her down on her stomach, opening her legs wide and thrusting into her from behind.
I said I would stop after I took her one more time in bed last night.
I said I would stop after I woke her up, my teeth nibbling on her neck and fingers teasing her clit.
But I’m a fucking liar.
I have no will or plan to stop. The more I taste her and inhale the tangible scent of her arousal, the more I’m tempted to feast on it. To eat her out, swallow her down so deep that she’ll never think about finding a way out. I come up with method after method to wrench one orgasm after the other from her.
Usually, I’m the type who knows the exact moment to stop. You can’t overdo or underdo things. Finding that balance is impossible for most people, but not for me. I’ve always excelled at being the ‘right amount’ type of person.
I’ve never cared too much or too little. Never gone overboard, never pushed boundaries. Never had addictions or things I couldn’t easily get rid of.
Lia is the exception to all of those.
She’s the addiction I didn’t see coming, and when I finally noticed her, she was already streaming in my blood.
She’s the one whose boundaries were supposed to be pushed, but I ended up being the one in a clusterfuck of problems.
This woman is intoxicating. She crept under my skin and injected her black magic into my bones. Now, she’s the reason I breathe. I feel like if I stop touching her, if I let her go, she’ll disappear again.
I’ll never have her again.
My thrusts become profound, sharp, and animalistic at the thought. I’ve never been as hard as I was last night and this morning. My dick is in a constant need to claim her, own her, and teach her that she’ll never go anywhere—willingly or unwillingly.
Lia’s body jerks, her fingers fisting into the belt that I looped around her wrists and attached to the hook in the bedpost. She looks so beautiful and so fucking mine.
Her frame is petite, breakable, and so fragile that it hurts to think what could’ve happened to her last night. Cuts mark the soles of her feet and there’s a bruise forming under her eye. The moment I saw her panting, crying, and in a mild state of shock, I swore to find whoever touched her and snap his fucking neck with my bare hands.
At the same time, when I saw her struggling to hold Yan upright and knowing she’d probably carried him for a long time, judging by the scratches on her feet, I felt a deep sense of pride. Because even though Yan was supposed to protect her, they found themselves in a reversed position and she didn’t leave a man behind.
This tiny fucking woman carried a large man on her back as if that were normal.
Those thoughts only fill me with more desire for her, more need to engrave myself under her skin and into her blood.
I dig my fingers into her ass cheek as my other hand lifts her stomach the slightest bit. With one of my knees firmly planted between her open thighs, this position gives me more room to power into her.
Lia bites the pillow, muffling her sounds again. She’s been doing that since I carried her out of the shower last night. I release her ass and lean over so my chest covers her back.
Her muscles bend under my touch, caving in the slightest bit as her walls clench around my dick. I thrust two fingers into her mouth, opening it. “Don’t hide from me, Lia. Let me hear your voice.”
Her eyes meet mine, moisture gathering in them. They’re quiet, but defiant. Determined, yet sad, like a natural disaster that doesn’t want to ruin people’s lives but knows that it has to happen, anyway.
“Lia. Open.”
She wraps her lips around my fingers and bites down hard as her insides strangle me. I come at the same time, my balls aching from the intensity of my release.
Lia’s knees buckle and she collapses the mattress. I want to fall over her, too, to kiss her throat and nibble on her rosy erect nipples. I want to worship her entire body just so I can do it all over again.
But I pull out of her and hold myself in a push-up position so as not to crush her with my weight. She’s so tiny, it aches to imagine hurting her that way.
Lia stops biting my fingers and releases them, leaving a trail of saliva and her teeth marks. She tries to look away, but I drop one of my knees between her legs and grab her by the hair, forcing her to stay in place.
I run the tips of my index and middle fingers—the ones she just bit—over her lips. “If you like something, own up to it.”
She stares at my fingers, pursing her lips shut as I glide the tip of my tongue over her throat before I find her ear. Her whole body shudders and I can feel her lust, even without touching between her legs. Her eyes get wide, her breathing shatters, and her skin becomes hot to the touch, a bit sweaty, a bit messy, and so fucking perfect.
“Why are you muting yourself again, hmm?” I whisper in low words, trying my hardest not to let my temper loose.
“Ask yourself,” she says, breathless.
“I’m asking you. Answer me.”
She purses her lips again.
“Are you in the mood for some punishment, Lia? It’s been some time, so maybe your body is craving that lash of pain.”
She scoffs.
“That’s one, Lia.”
Her glare meets mine and I think it’s because of the punishment, but she grits out from between clenched teeth, “I’m not Lia.”
“Two. And you are.”
Fresh tears fill her eyes as she bucks off the bed, trying to push me away. I can easily overpower her, especially with her tied and bound for the taking, but the tears stop me. They’re not tears of pleasure like when she was sobbing through her orgasm while being whipped.
They’re tears of pain.
I give her room, sitting on my knees to undo the belt from around her hands. I’m attempting to massage her wrists, but she yanks them back and points a thumb at herself. “Winter! My name is Winter. Stop calling me Lia. Just stop!”
My jaw clenches. “Three.”
“Make it a hundred. I don’t fucking care.” She hits my chest with a closed fist. “You’re erasing me, Adrian. You’re wiping me from existence.”
I wrap a hand around her head and pull her to me, forcing an end to her tantrum. She struggles against me some more, her tiny hands pushing at me, her teeth biting the ridges of my chest, but her energy wanes as a sob tears from her throat. It’s raw, but it bounces right against my ribcage and disappears.
I couldn’t give a fuck about the reason she’s crying.
Soon after, her breathing levels even out, though her fists are still bunched against my chest. I think she’s fallen asleep until she murmurs, “Winter. My name is Winter…”
And then she’s out cold.
I place her on the bed, go to the bathroom, and return with a wet towel to clean her up. I lift her, remove the sheets that are wet with my cum and her arousal, and wrap her up in the thick duvet.
There are still tears in her eyes and I wipe them with the back of my fingers. She leans into my touch because, even in her sleep, her body is attuned to me.
After I make sure she’s comfortable, I take a quick shower, get dressed, and join my men downstairs. It’s a little early, but no time is too early for what we have to do. They’re all up and about, and I’ve already received reports from my hackers.
My eyes narrow as I read the email from one of the hackers I asked to force entry into my car’s GPS after it disappeared last night. He replied back that they found it down a cliff, not far from where we picked up Lia and Yan.
I send two of my guards to investigate before the police show up at the site of the accident. If there’s anything to clean up, they’ll do that as well.
But most of all, I need to know who the fuck dared to kidnap my wife.
My. Wife.
It didn’t even happen on the streets or in an insignificant place. They dared to take her from an event held by Sergei in his own house. They have balls, I’ll give them that, but I’ll enjoy every second of cutting them.
I send a few more guards to investigate Sergei’s house in case anyone knows about the incident. After I received the phone call from Lia, my men and I were careful enough not to alert the others. Any security hazard in the presence of the other crime families would reflect badly on the brotherhood and Sergei. I didn’t want to give him one more reason to dig into me or force me to throw Lia out. He’d probably think I staged the whole fucking kidnapping and sacrificed Yan to make myself look innocent about the Italians’ fiasco.
That’s something his fucker-in-law, Kyle, would do, not me. Rai’s husband wouldn’t hesitate to put himself in danger as long as he gets to move ahead. I’m not like that. I would never sacrifice my people or put Lia in danger for my own benefit.
Sergei doesn’t have many cameras in the parking lot, so I need my men to tell me if anything was caught on footage, and then I’ll worry about it.
After I make sure all my men are where they should be, I head to Yan’s room in the guest house.
I take a second to suck in a breath. As much as the fucker has been getting on my nerves, I don’t like entertaining the idea of Yan’s death. Kolya always used to joke that he’s like our kid with how much we’ve doted on him, and he is, in a way. Seeing him shot was equivalent to seeing Jeremy choke a few months ago.
After a moment, I push the door open. Kolya’s sitting on a chair beside Yan’s bed and clutching a wet towel. His eyes are bloodshot but alert. He most definitely didn’t sleep a wink last night because he has a weakness for the reckless bastard lying on the bed.
My second-in-command tries to stand up, but I motion at him to stay and ask in Russian, “How is he?”
“The fever went down,” Kolya answers in the same language. “But he hasn’t woken up yet.”
“He will.”
“I know.” He hesitates. “Did you find out anything?”
“The other men say they hadn’t received the order to move to the car yet, so they witnessed nothing of what happened.”
“Yan probably wanted to get Mrs. Volkov to the car first.”
“Yes.” I stare at Yan’s bandaged chest, finger tapping against my thigh. “Remember when Kyle got shot pretending to protect Sergei, when he was the one behind the attack?”
Kolya frowns, probably not knowing where I’m going with this, but nods.
My attention remains on Yan as I speak. “Do you know why he did it?”
“To get in Sergei’s good graces.”
“Which was basically his camouflage. His cover-up. He took a non-fatal bullet as a form of sacrifice.”
Kolya’s eyes widen, finally getting my point. “You can’t mean…you’re not accusing Yan of the same, are you?”
My tapping halts as Yan’s eyes twitch. “Hmm. Who knows?”
“With all due respect, sir, Yan has served you since he was a toddler. He’s not some unnamed assassin like Kyle, who’s trying to get in anyone’s good graces. He took two bullets for your wife!”
“Watch your tone, Kolya.”
He purses his lips, but he doesn’t apologize. After a moment, he swallows. “All I’m saying is that Yan wouldn’t do that to you.”
“You’re saying that because you’ve known him his entire life. You find it hard to suspect him because of your bond.”
“Apparently, you have no problem with that. Congratulations.”
“I said to watch your tone, and no, Kolya, I have no problem distrusting people.”
“So what now? Are you going to kill him?”
“I’m not that cruel. I wouldn’t kill him without questioning him first.”
I can tell by Kolya’s expression that he’s enraged, disappointed, and probably wants to punch me in the face. We might have been brought up together, but he knows me to be cold and calculative toward other people, not my own. So the fact that I’m directing those traits inward, at Yan, is pissing him off like nothing before.
“Am I next?” he asks quietly. “After Yan, is it my turn?”
“Don’t give me a reason.” I turn around. “Tell me when he wakes up.”
“You know,” he speaks from behind me. “As much as you hated your parents, you’re a replica of them.”
I’m not under the implication to answer him, so I don’t as I click the door shut behind me.
A replica of them.
Possibly.
After all, monsters can only birth monsters.
