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“So good for me,” Damien praised, rolling his hips into mine in devastatingly sinuous motions, hitting a spot that made me grunt and clamp around him. “My beautiful queen taking me so deep, so well. You have no idea how good you feel, how fucking incredible you are when you come for me.”
My back arched, sensitivity and shivers rushing down my body. He didn’t slow to let me catch my breath. He wasunapologetically ravenous for my pleasure, his thumb finding my clit with that maddening pressure from earlier.
“God, I love it when your eyes roll back,” he said, panting, breathless. “You’re so fucking beautiful, Vasilisa Marshall.”
My back arched. I gasped for breath.
“That’s my girl. That’s my perfect, perfect wife. Come for me again, let me feel you squeeze my cock as you see stars.”
His lips dragged rough, wet kisses down my throat. Every sharp, explosive desire in me erupted when his lips found a weak spot on my throat. When his cock stroked that spot inside me, over and over and over, my whole body came apart.
Pleasure throttled my breath in my throat; my mouth hung open, eyes wide and unseeing. It charged through me like electric, shocking in its intensity. My toes curled as wave after wave hit, and my pussy locked around Damien’s cock, giving him no choice but to thrust all the way in and roar as he found his pleasure, too.
I’d made my husband shout, made him come, and that was so arousing that my climax never ended, white-hot and infinite.
By the time I fluttered back to Earth, as weightless as a feather, there was a smile on my face, nothing but peace in my heart, and Damien was gently sliding his cock out of me. Not even the wetness that dripped from us could ruin my hazy good mood when he released my wrists from the wall and carried me down the hall to my room. Our room.
I splayed, boneless, and blinked up at my husband when he slid into bed beside me and pulled my head onto his chest. He massaged the blood back into my wrists, his thumbs firm but careful. Taking care of me, like he always did.
And helearned Russian.There wasn’t enough space in my heart for how emotional that made me.
“I love you, too,” I confessed, my eyes fluttering shut. “I did the moment you told me to point my gun at you.”
A kiss lingered on the crown of my head. “Best thing I ever did, giving you that gun.”
I smiled and let my eyes fall shut.
“Sleep, my queen,” he murmured, fanning more kisses across my head. “I need to go out, but I’ll be here when you wake up.”
“Be careful,” I warned him, turning my head to place a kiss on his bare chest.
“For you? Always.”
I fell asleep with that promise ringing through my head.
CHAPTER 4
DAMIEN
Getting into a hospital armed was a pain in the ass, but moving a man to a private hospital where I could bribe security to look the other way? Much easier. Eli got it done in the two hours I’d spent soothing my girl, and then making her come so hard her whole body locked up. I was tempted to pat myself on the back for that, but I was too conscious of the fact she was terrified, traumatised, and her brother got too fucking close for comfort.
What if he’d shot her?
I could have lost her in a split fucking second, and the terror that crushed my chest was enough to eclipse even my rage. I kept the image of my wife red-eyed and tear stained, trembling all over, in the front of my mind as I strolled casually past the front desk of the small private hospital on the other side of London to our room.
Vasilisa might have been okay when I left her, flush with pleasure and peace, but it wouldn’t last. When she wokeup, what happened would flood back. Vincent sent a dozen messages while I was busy with Vasilisa and I’d read them on the way here, so I knew exactly how that bastard Artur had ambushed them while they were shopping, shot Lionel three times, and would have shot the light of my goddamn life if her guard hadn’t discharged his gun, too.
I shook my head, sucking down air like a drowning man. It wasn’t enough. For her shattered peace of mind. For the tears that flowed from her eyes like a rainstorm. For the way she shook and clung to me.
I wasn’t blameless; I’d hurt her too by stupidly assuming I knew what was best for her. I’d rectified that now, and I would never keep my distance to protect her again. I would rectify this, too.
I checked my phone for the updates I made Jonathan text every two minutes.
She’s fine.
Still sleeping.
No change.
