Page 84 of Twisted Cage

Caressing the valley between her breasts, I slow my pace, rocking deep, drawing whimpers of rising pleasure from her throat. Every glide is absolute torture, resisting the high only exploding inside of her can bring.

I want her freely.

I want her to look at me the way she used to.

I want her to ask me who I belong to. Because if she asks, it means the answer matters. It tells me that somewhere, there’s a way back. She’s been screaming for freedom in a thousand little ways, but no one listened. I didn’t listen.

She’s been pleading for autonomy. For power.

She already has it… the year I couldn’t find her confirmed one thing, if nothing else… she’s always had absolute power over me.

My gaze roams over every inch of her, everywhere but her eyes. Seeing what I can’t have is too much and we both need relief. Adjusting my grip on her ass, I pull her in tighter and thrust harder, chasing the high. I tease her swollen clit, anxiously waiting as she climbs to her own release, so I can see her so very alive and flying apart around me.

The burn rises in the base of my spine, and I gasp. My balls draw up tight as her walls begin to spasm around me. Despite my determination, I can’t resist. I have to look at her.

I need to look into those eyes that haunt me every second as she comes apart.

There’s a softness there now. A blissfulness with the wave of release building within her.

This is enough. It has to be enough. I grasp at the sentiment, but I’m not sure I believe it.

“Kostya?” she whispers, and my eyes snap to hers. She traces her finger over my jaw, and my lungs seize on a glimmer of hope. “Who do you belong to?”

Tension I’ve been carrying for more than a year suddenly drains from my body, magnifying the bone-melting ecstasy of release.

Her walls clamp down on me, milking me, her unfocused eyes locked on mine as every ounce of fear choking me tonight dissipates in this moment as I pour everything into her.

And surrender.

“You.”

29

NIKOLETTA

We step into the safe house and skid to a stop.

Lamplight burns with a soft glow in the living area where Dimitri dances in circles around the living room, humming in tune with the kiddie music coming from the TV. He shed his suit jacket and tie and rolled up his sleeves. Lexi rests on the burp rag over his shoulder as he rubs gentle circles on her back, the ring of her pacifier looped around his index finger. Her eyelids sink shut, then flutter open, before shutting again, each blink getting longer and longer as she drifts off to sleep.

Two guns rest in holsters on either side of his spine, and I can’t help but laugh at the picture he makes tall and tattooed, his dress shirt snug over thick, sinewed arms, and a pink butterfly-covered baby blanket tucked under the arm holding up Lexi’s little protruding baby butt.

Faith sits on the couch, her knees up, with Alex nestled in against her thighs. A pink flush fills her cheeks, the blush I know she gets from laughing.

Grigori scratches his hand through his hair, wincing at the picture Dimitri makes. With a resigned sigh, he peels off his jacket and tosses it over a dining room chair.

Konstantin freezes, a blank look on his face as he blinks several times in rapid succession. He opens his mouth, pauses, then closes it. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he heads straight for the whiskey decanter with a resigned shake of his head. Like he’s going to need a minute to absorb this new domestic reality.

“Whoa… you guys look like shi—poop,” Dimitri says, looking us all up and down. “What happened?”

“Someone at the party outed us. They sent two cars full of boys to do a man’s job. Now they’re at the den,” Konstantin says over his shoulder, grabbing the whiskey decanter.

Faith’s gaze narrows and her mouth falls open. After scooping Alex up and tucking him in the crook of her arm, she scurries across the room to get a better look at me. “Oh my God. You look like you were…” She trails off and gulps, whatever she intended to say, dying in her throat.

My stomach clenches with the realization that the last time she saw someone this much of a mess was Regan after Elijah had raped her.

Squeezing her arm, I dredge up the last scraps of energy in me and offer her a smile. “It wasn’t what you’re thinking. I promise. I’m fine. Pissed off, but fine.” I brush my finger along Alex’s impossibly soft cheek. So warm and relaxed, blissfully unaware of the chaos going on around him. “Bet you’re glad you stayed home now,” I murmured.

Konstantin fills two highball glasses and glances at me, his gaze flicking back to the drinks, silently asking if I want one.

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