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She doesn’t reply, because her head is thrown back. I can feel her milking my cock. Her arousal messes up the sheets, her, and even my inner thighs.
“Look at me.”
She does, and her hands grab my arms as she trembles. Her face becomes a map of pleasure—tears cling to her eyes, and her lips are pink and swollen.
This woman is my wife.
My fucking wife.
“Tell me you love me.” I go deeper, harder, and out of control.
I have to pull out the knife and throw it aside before I accidentally hurt her. I already cut myself and I smear the blood all over her ass, then slap it.
“I love you,” she whispers.
I hit her sensitive spot again and spank her ass—again. “Now, scream it.”
“I love you!”
Those words are my undoing.
I groan as I empty myself deep inside her cunt, then I pull out and spray my cum on her ass and back hole. Blood and cum mix, creating my favorite view. But that’s not enough, so I thrust anything that’s escaped back inside her pussy again and again until she’s writhing and pushing back against my cock.
After she rides the wave, I turn her around and take her in. Everything about her glows. Her sweat-covered skin, her hard, pink nipples, and her slightly parted lips.
I fucked this woman three hundred fifty-two times, and I still can’t get enough of her.
And yes, I’m still counting.
Sasha sits up, her legs on either side of me, and wraps her hands around my neck, a happy, satisfied smile on her lips.
“You’re officially mine now, wife.”
Her eyes close briefly as she nuzzles her nose against mine and murmurs in a soft voice, “I love you, husband.”
Something in my chest squeezes so hard, I think I’m having a seizure. I really should get this shit checked.
But now, I need to fuck Sasha again, just so there’s no mistaking that she’s all mine. Body, heart, and fucking soul.
Because once this small honeymoon phase is over, I’m not sure she’ll still be as compliant.
26
SASHA
I’m a lost cause.
I might have been staring at Kirill’s sleeping face for the past hour or so, vehemently refusing to look away from him.
It’s such a rare occurrence to see him sleep, but after I suggested helping him last night, he laid his head on my chest and closed his eyes.
So I stroked his hair and sang to him, and we somehow both fell asleep. It was the best sleep I’ve had in ages. No nightmares, no blood, and no reminder of who I’m supposed to be.
In fact, it was full of peaceful colors and Kirill’s fatally beautiful face. I woke up with a smile on my lips and his erection pressed against my thigh.
Our clothes and my surprisingly intact wedding dress are lying all over the floor, and we smell like each other after the bath we had together before bed.
Kirill held me against him, then washed and massaged every inch of my body. To say last night was the best night of my life would be an understatement.
Not only did we get married, but he also made me feel like I’m the only woman he sees. The only woman he wants to be his wife.
Yes, maybe the marriage part happened too quickly, but it feels so right.
His arm is thrown over my middle and his face is buried between my breasts. He didn’t change his position during the entire night. I’ve noticed that about him before. He’s a very still person. It’s like he’s conscious of his movements, even during sleep.
Kirill is the coldest, most enigmatic man I know, but right now? He feels like the closest thing I’ve had to a home after my family’s death.
I run my fingers through his hair and pause as the rock shines under the dim light.
We’re married.
This impossible man is now my husband. Not Kristina’s.
Mine.
I kiss the top of his head, my lips lingering there for a second too long. Will I ever get used to this feeling?
Kirill might look like he’s too possessive of me, but I’m worse. I can’t handle seeing him with another woman, and if he’d really gone through with that marriage, the possibility of me turning toxic and somehow ruining that wedding was high.
I’m not one of those women who’d retreat with dignity. I’d curse him and her for eternity, from the grave, even.
Thankfully, none of that will happen now.
But I’m not sure how we move forward from here either. Or how he managed to break off the engagement without upsetting Igor or disrespecting the Pakhan himself.
What about his ambitions to get to the top, the problems with Juan and—
“Mmm.” He nuzzles his face against my breasts, turning my nipples hard. “I think I found my favorite way to wake up.”
And I think I’m in love with his sleepy, husky voice.
Kirill lifts his face from my chest, his light eyes droopy with sleep, and then something I’ve never seen before happens.
