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My beautiful cocoon shattered when a loud bang jostled me awake and I sat up with a start.
Gunshots.
There were screams.
It reminded me of that night.
The night I was taken away…the night I watched the abbey burn in front of my eyes.
There were more sounds of guns going off. More screams. Some enraged. Some painful. I could almost vividly see the bloodbath happening from behind my closed doors.
With each loud bang, each scream—a chip of my heart fell away, and I was left bleeding from the inside.
History had a cruel way of repeating itself.
Chapter 22
Lena
I walked out of the bathroom, freshly showered, and found Boris on the bed, newspaper on his lap. He looked up and stared at me with his dark, gorgeous eyes. He was shirtless, and even after so many years, I found myself transfixed. God, he was sexy and mouth-watering.
He winked, and my heart melted. My panties too. Just like always. That was the effect my husband had on me. I joined him in bed. He pushed his newspaper away and rolled over until I was trapped underneath him. I sunk into the mattress, loving the feel of his weight against me.
“I missed you,” he said. I hummed in response. We were only apart for six hours, but he was right. I missed him, too. Boris smiled and brought his head down. His lips brushed gently against mine, and I whimpered. He slowly moved his tongue on my mouth. I gasped, and he slid his tongue inside, softly brushing against mine. My husband kissed me slowly, lacking the urgency he had a few hours ago.
Our tongues mated together, and I moaned. I felt him suck on my tongue, and I leaned more into him. My panties were soaked already, and I just needed him…to touch me more. My body moved underneath him, and he chuckled. “So impatient.”
Boris nipped my lips in warning, and his chest vibrated with a low, teasing growl.
“Boris,” I sighed into his mouth.
His kisses were a fire that burned me from inside out, and I never wanted him to stop. I felt him in every pore of me. I breathed him in, feeling the effect of him. His presence calmed me. Always. Whenever I was restless, my soul searched for him. And when I would find Boris, every anxious feeling would disappear into a soothing, calm wave. He settled me, and I found a way to balance him. He used to be an angry man at the world. Boris hated everyone…everything. He was a mad man. And then I held him, and it was magic.
We found our little fairy tale.
“I love it when you look at me like this,” he said tenderly before kissing me again.
“Like what?”
“Like you love me. Like I am the only one.”
Palming his cheek, I caressed him over his beard. “You are, Boris. You are everything. And I want you to always remember that.”
He smiled that small smile he only gave me and Maddie. “I can’t forget when you remind me about…a hundred times a day. Give or take. Whether it’s that morning kiss when you wake me up. Or that special kiss in the shower that my dick loves so much. I love it even more when you stare up at me with those teasing eyes and you whisper I love you before taking me into your mouth.”
We had been married for seven years. Been a couple for more than ten years, yet he knew exactly how to make me blush. His words ignited a fire within me that nobody else could. There were so many women he could have, he chose me. There were so many men I could have, but I chose him.
We chose each other.
“I think I am emotional,” I whispered.
“When are you not emotional is the question, baby.”
I slapped his chest, and he laughed. “Since you had Maddie, you are a walking emotion, Lena. Not that I am complaining. Not really.”
I sent him a mock glare. “Who wanted to knock me up in the first place? Who made it his mission to fill me with cum every hour of the day? Who had a pillow under my ass and my legs up because he needed his cum to take root?”
My fingers trailed up his chest, and I pinched his nipple. Boris hissed. “I am sure it wasn’t the bell boy or the pool boy,” I mocked.
His black eyes narrowed, and his lips lifted up in a small snarl. There he was. My overly possessive husband. His grip tightened around my hips, and he pushed his body into mine, forcing my legs apart as he settled heavily between my thighs.
“Me,” he growled. “It was me. I fucked you. It was my cock in your sore pussy. I filled you up and I gave you our baby. Not some stupid ass bell boy or pool boy who doesn’t know how to use his dick.”
