She kisses me harder and I sweep her into my arms to lay her on our new bed, where all my thoughts shift to consummating the engagement.
“Maybe a long engagement, though,” she murmurs when I reach for her pants. “A couple years?”
“Whatever you want.”
Her socks and shoes are discarded. Pants following. I’m working on her shirt when she mutters, “WhateverIwant? I’mhalf-naked, and have barely processed what you’ve done here. Clearly one of us is in charge of the decision-making.”
“Mhm.” Without her shirt, my lips trail up her stomach until reaching the edge of her bra. “Keep processing.”
She arches when I reach behind her for the clasp, and with the bra now being discarded, I come up onto my knees between her thighs..
Katya. My teenage dream, my first love, my soulmate, my everything.
My fiancée.
Her arms lay comfortably at her side, the emerald and diamond ring making my inner demons want to ignite the place on fire, to worship her on a throne.
She’s wearingmyring. After so long, she’s accepted me—acceptedus.
I don’t ever want to stop looking at her.
She arches her hips until she’s rubbing against me, her dark eyes twisting with excitement. So open and not nervous, like every other time I’ve had her since leaving Toronto. As though being back got rid of all her other fears. In so many ways, she’s the girl from school again.
“You look like you’re thinking hard.”
“Maybe a bit,” I rasp, unsure how to put words to my wandering thoughts.
She rocks against me, and my cock jumps to life, begging me to unzip my jeans. “Well, if you could think and fuck at the same time…”
I reach to flick apart my jeans, and take my damn time doing it because the eagerness and lust consuming her expression is nearly as good as being inside her. Nearly, but not quite, and cock in hand, I stroke myself while preparing her with my thumb, rotating it around her clit until she’s wet enough to take me.
I line myself up and thrust slowly, enjoying the way her lips part and head tilts back. How whatever comment she was going to make dies on her lips and instead a breathy moan fills the air.
I fall to my hands and knees and reach for her, linking our fingers together until the metal of the ring greets me. I position them above her head, watching her expression for a hint of fear, of the reminder of the time they had her in ropes.
“I can’t believe what you’ve done here,” she whispers.
“All for you.” I release one hand to grasp her thigh, spreading her wider as her pussy ripples around my cock—the beginning stages of her orgasm. “I don’t want you to wake up regretting this one day, Katya. This has to be real, because if it’s not, and you one day regret our lives, I’ll never be able to forgive myself for trapping you.Butif you don’t tell me now, then I won’t be able to stop myself. The ring on your finger, this house,you”—I pull almost all the way out, only my head remaining inside her—“you’re all mine.”
I thrust to the hilt, laying a physical claim alongside my verbal one.
I do it again and again, mumblingmine, mine, mineboth in Russian and English into her neck until her cries turn to keens and she lays her own claim.
“I’m done running, Dimitri. I love you, I’ve told you that. This is real.”
“Promise?”
“I promise.” Exasperation lines her words but she stares into my eyes and finds the emotion—the fear—the nakedness—I’ve been masking since we entered the house. “I promise,” she repeats softly. “I love you too much for this to be fake.”
“Thank fuck.” I grip her tighter, thrust harder, faster. “I love you too,moya dusha.”
In the past, present, and future. Forever and always.
We’re packingup everything Dimitri’s taking with him, as well as everything I’ve been keeping here over the past month. In his closet, he’s leaving a few outfits in case he has to crash here after a job, or if he comes back too bloody and needs somewhere to shower and change, so he doesn’t freak out our neighbours.
I’m zipping up a suitcase when he enters the room, rubbing a hand over his face. “Have a formal dress somewhere? Turns out, we’ll be heading to a wedding in a few days. It was decided when you were in Toronto and I was held captive, so Vanessa conveniently forgot to mention it ’til now.”
“Whose wedding?” From what I’ve noticed, Zeno and Vanessa haven’t mentioned a wedding for them. Besides, the union of two mafia heads probably wouldn’t have been planned last minute.