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“And Finch has as many resources as I do,” he pointed out, almost… disillusioned. His mood was low, and I’d never seen him like this before. I hadn’t realised joking with Jonathan before was him putting up a front.
“Here,” I said, reaching for the bottle and pressing it into his hand. “You can hold my gun as well if you need it.”
He skimmed my jaw with the backs of his fingers. “I’ll be okay, but thank you, Vasya.”
I kissed him slowly, pouring my unwavering affection into each lingering, affirming press of lips, every slow, sinuous meeting of tongues. His taste filled my senses, and relief burrowed into my soul. But Damien had been so afraid to come home and find me hurt, or worse, that the same relief never touched him.
He took a long swallow of whiskey and sighed, his hand resistant to let go of me when I slid off his lap. “Vasilisa…” he murmured when I pushed the table back and dropped to my knees before him.
“Hush,” I said softly, stroking up and down his thighs in slow, calming touches. “Let me take care of my husband when he needs me.”
His eyes shuttered, lashes sweeping his cheeks. “I do need you,” he admitted. “More than I’ve ever needed anyone. The thought of a life without you is un-fucking-bearable.”
“I know,” I said, pressing a kiss to his thigh. “I felt the same way with you gone. But now you’re home, and I’m safe. No one even got close to me when you were gone.” Another kiss, to his opposite thigh. His throat bobbed. “We’re okay, Damien.” I brushed my lips over the bulge in his trousers, lingering until he released a hard breath.
He watched me through his lashes, tiredness and strain written on his face. I unfastened his trouser button and glided the zip down, determined to erase every bit of stress that clung to my husband.
CHAPTER 9
DAMIEN
Imust have been a legitimate saint in my past life to deserve Vasilisa. She slowly, patiently, drew every bit of fear and anxiety out of me andobliteratedit. She wiped away every stress until I forgot my irritation at being arrested, and my panic at the thought of coming home to find her hurt. I couldn’t think, let alone overthink, when her hands wrapped around my cock, her mouth gracing the tip and sucking me with a confidence and determination that made me groan.
She coaxed heat through me slowly instead of my usual instant wildfire, like she knew what I needed. This—this was what I needed. Reassuring touches to my thighs. Eye contact. Slow, soft licks to my cock, patiently finding every weak spot.
The butterfly kisses she trailed up and down my length wrecked my emotions, each one bleeding tension from me until I relaxed into the chair, my head tipped back. It was a thousand times more effective than my usual method of finding calm in torture.
I framed her cheek with my palm, not so I could dictate her movements or speed but because I couldn’t bear another second without my hands on her.
“I love you more than anything else in the word,” I blurted, sucking in a sharp breath when Vasya glided her mouth up and down my shaft, flicking her tongue over the ultra-sensitive places she’d learned made my whole body seize.
“More than mass murder?” she asked, her beautiful eyes peering up at me, so rich and deep I fell into her stare and it took me a moment to process her words.
A laugh punched from me, my lips curling into a smile. “Yeah, my queen, more than mass murder. And for the record, I only kill in such extremes when serious crimes have been committed.”
She kept her eyes on me as she took me back in her mouth, drawing a deep grunt from me at the feel of her hot mouth enveloping me. Pleasure coiled in my gut.
“If anything had happened to you while I was away,” I said quietly, stroking her cheek with my thumb, “I would have destroyed the entire city in revenge. No one would have been safe from me.”
She swirled her tongue around the head of my cock, replacing my wrath with a sudden shock of need. “I’m unhurt. I’m safe.”
Like she was trying to brand that truth into my brain, or else wipe it completely, she swallowed me as far as her mouth would allow—and took medeeper.I grunted, sliding my fingers into her silken curls.
“Careful, Vasya. Don’t hurt yourself.”
She threw me a look so fierce with attitude that I melted. It very clearly put me in my place, and told me she knew her limits. Goddamn, the sight of her mouth around my cock was so sexy itruined me. Her throat choked the life out of my tip. My breaths quickened, panting and rough.
“You seem intent on relieving me of all brain function,” I said, my voice husky. “If you suck me while you take me down your throat—”
My eyes fucking rolled, my stomach hollowing as I sucked in a vicious gasp. Oh yeah, my wife was trying to undo me. And it was working faster than I could control.
“Vasya,” I groaned, fighting not to tighten my hand in her hair when she drew off my cock, dragged down air, and took me back inside, sucking the way she’d learned fuckingruinedme. My other hand dove into her hair, a tremor running through me as my cock throbbed inside the clasp of her hot, sucking mouth. “Oh, fuck.”
Her hands trailed up my thighs, as slow and soothing as earlier, and I was unprepared for the bite of pain when her fingernails bit through fabric into my skin at the same time she dragged down a breath and swallowed me further, deeper. Shit. Oh—Oh, shit—
My eyes slammed shut. Fingers tightened in her hair. Back arched off the chair as blinding, lightning-hot pleasure shot through me, my balls throbbed, and I came down Vasilisa’s throat.
Jesus fuck—it felt so—
