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Watching her panic like that when I had touched her had broken something inside me. I hated the thought of my touch causing her any kind of pain and knowing that someone else had done this to her, my rage and need for revenge ran deeper than I could fathom.
I knew people were going after her, but I couldn’t stop them without risking my own cover and if it wasn’t for my passive stance, I wouldn’t have the information I do now.
I had tried to steer the men who followed my father and myself less intensely, knowing she could hold her own if need be but I hadn’t anticipated others trying to kidnap her.
It wasn’t usually something you expect in our world. Most only try to take you out, not take you for their own means when you are the head.
“Take off your sweats.” She said with a stern look and I bit my lip to stop myself from smiling.
She was such a tiny thing and yet so fierce. It was no wonder so many people underestimated her. Ivan had trained her well, she was an efficient killing machine, a wolf in sheep’s clothing, and what beautiful clothing it was.
“Ahh, I don’t think I should. I’ll just roll the leg up.” I said and she frowned.
“No. It will be too tight, that’s even if it makes it over your thigh. Why can’t you just pull them down? I don’t care about seeing your underwear, Alexsei.” She said with an eye roll and I ran my hand over my face, trying to figure out what to say.
She may have kissed me, but this would probably be a bit too much.
“You aren’t wearing any are you?” She said softly.
“No,” I replied, watching as her eyes widened and then glanced at my crutch before she licked her lips.
Her eyes met mine again and there was so much within that stare. Emotions that I didn’t want to decode as we looked at each other before she whispered.
“Take them off.”
I don’t know what this meant, but I had told her the truth and she had made this decision. I was going to do what she wanted. After all, it was just stitches, right?
I slowly lowered them to the ground and stepped out of them, never taking my eyes off her. I wasn’t ashamed to say the idea of her seeing my cock already had me semi hard and when she blatantly stared, it took every ounce of the little control I had not to grab her or say anything.
Her eyes slowly moved from my cock to my face and she stepped closer, pressing a hand on my chest.
“Sit down.” She whispered, pushing me into the chair she had pulled into the bathroom on our way inside.
I slowly lowered to the chair as she knelt in front of me, then gently pushed my thighs apart.
Seeing her on her knees in front of me was like winning the lottery and when she began to clean the wound, I had to close my eyes to stop myself from doing anything stupid.
Her fingers brushed against my skin before she began the work of stitching the skin back together, moving quickly and efficiently as she did.
With every touch, my cock grew harder and my thoughts even more wild. What I wouldn’t give to take her right now, to bend her over and claim her in every way possible.
I had my own brand of kink that she might not enjoy and apparently a new one… being stitched up with my cock out was now added to the list.
I switched my focus to think about anything that would distract me, opting for Hamish’s little spectacle of his own cock and balls plastered against the window.
It was working, I could do this. I would stop getting so damn hard thinking about how close her mouth is to my cock.
Fuck.
I was startled from my spiraling thoughts by a soft kiss on my inner thigh, right next to the wound.
I opened my eyes to look at her and she smiled slowly.
“Just kissing it better.” She purred and I groaned.
“Pchelka… you are killing me.” I gasped and she turned to face my cock, then looked up at me.
“You look healthy to me.” She teased before her hand cupped my balls.
