Even knowing about her love for another man, I can’t leave Yulia alone.
Her face is wet against my shoulder as I hold her, stroking her back, her hair, the sleek muscles of her calves. The peach scent of her skin teases my nostrils, but my lust for her is muted for the moment, leaving me free to focus on her comfort. With her knees drawn up to her chest, Yulia seems no bigger than a child, her entire body fitting on my lap. Her fragility weighs on me, adding to the heavy pressure around my heart. I don’t know what to do, so I just hold her, letting my warmth soothe her chilled flesh. She doesn’t pull away, doesn’t fight me, and it’s enough for now.
It has to be enough.
“I’m sorry,” I murmur when her shaking begins to ease. The words probably sound as hollow to her as they do to me, but I persist, needing her to understand. “I didn’t want to hurt you, but we had to move past this standoff. You would’ve never trusted me enough to tell me about UUR. And now it’s over. It’s done. I promised I wouldn’t harm you if you talked, and I won’t. It’s going to be okay. Everything’s going to be okay.”
Once her lover is dead, she’s going to be mine and mine alone.
Yulia doesn’t say anything, but after a few more minutes, her breathing normalizes and her shaking stops. Even her skin feels warmer, though her body is still rigid in my embrace.
“Are you tired, baby?” I whisper, moving my hand over her back in small, soothing circles. “Do you want to go to sleep?”
She doesn’t answer, but I feel her stiffening even more.
“Don’t worry, I won’t touch you,” I say, guessing at the source of her tension. “We’ll just go to sleep, okay?”
Still no response, but I’m not expecting any at this point. Cradling her against my chest, I get up and carry her to her side of the bed, then gently place her on top of the sheets. Yulia immediately rolls away from me, wrapping herself in the blanket, and I let her be while I take off my clothes and get the handcuffs.
Lying down beside her, I pull away the blanket and reach for her left wrist. “Come here, sweetheart. You know the drill.”
She doesn’t resist when I snap the handcuffs around her wrist and mine. It should’ve been uncomfortable to sleep like this, with our left wrists locked together, but I’ve gotten so used to it that it feels entirely natural.
As soon as I have Yulia secured, I pull her against my chest, holding her from the back. When my groin presses against her ass, I feel rough material against my bare cock and realize she managed to pull up her shorts while I was undressing. I consider letting her sleep like this, but after shifting a few times in search of a better position, I reach for the shorts’ zipper.
“I’m just going to hold you,” I promise, tugging the shorts down her legs while she lies rigid and unresisting. “You’ll be more comfortable as well.”
Kicking the shorts away, I pull her back into the spooning position, marveling at the perfect way her naked body fits into my arms. Before I met Yulia, I didn’t get the appeal of cuddling with a woman, but now I can’t imagine not holding her as I fall asleep.
Of course, normally I hold Yulia after sex, I realize as my cock stiffens against her ass. Sleeping is a lot easier after I’ve fucked her a couple of times.
Oh, well. I take a deep breath and picture myself crawling through the mud in the mountains of Afghanistan, with icy sleet soaking through my clothes. When that doesn’t work, I think of my parents and the way they never touched or smiled at each other, substituting politeness for caring and mutual ambition for a family bond.
The latter memory does the trick, and my erection subsides enough for me to relax. As I sink into the soothing darkness of sleep, I dream of peach pies, angels with long blond hair, and a smile.
Yulia’s bright, genuine smile.
20
Yulia
“It’s your fault, bitch. It’s all your fault.”
Dimly, I’m aware that the words are strangely distant, but the terror still engulfs me, pressing down on me like a smothering blanket. I can feel him over me, and I scream, struggling to avoid the violation, the awful pain.
“No, please, no!”
“Shh, baby, it’s okay. You’re just having a bad dream.”
Strong arms tighten around me, pressing me against a hard, warm body, and the suffocating terror eases, the cruel voices receding. Sobbing with relief, I try to turn, to face the person holding me, but something hard tugs at my left wrist.
The handcuffs.
“Lucas?”
“Yeah, it’s me.” Warm lips brush my temple as a big hand smoothes back my hair. “I’ve got you. You’re all right now. You’re fine.”
He’s got me. Something should worry me about that statement, but at this moment, all I’m aware of is its seductive comfort. Lucas’s powerful arms are around me, holding me, protecting me in the darkness, and the horror of the dream grows more distant, sinking back into the mire of the past.
There’s no Kirill. There’s just Lucas, and nobody can take me away from him.
“Baby, you’ve got to stop moving like that.” His voice is hoarse, strained, and I realize I’m rocking against him in an attempt to burrow even deeper into his embrace. In the process, my ass is shimmying against his groin—with a predictable result.
The horror flickers distantly, the panic returning for a moment, and I try to turn again, to hide my face against his broad chest, but the handcuffs are in the way.
“Shh, it’s okay. You’re safe.” There’s a tug and a quiet snick as the key turns, unlocking the cuffs. “You don’t have to be afraid. It’s okay.”
It’s okay. The panic retreats, especially when I’m able to wrap my arms around Lucas’s muscular torso and inhale his familiar scent. He smells like his body wash and warm male skin, like safety, strength, and comfort. Burying my face in his chest, I throw my leg over his hip, wanting to wrap myself around him like a vine, and I hear him groan as his hard cock presses into my belly.
Something about that should worry me too, but with my mind still wrestling with the dream, I can’t figure out what. I just want him closer—as close as two people can possibly get.
“Fuck me,” I whisper, slipping one hand between our bodies to cup his tightly drawn balls. “Please, Lucas, fuck me.”
“You…” His voice sounds strangled. “You want me?”
“Yes, please, Lucas.” I know it’s pathetic to beg, but I need him. I need him to chase away the horror. “Please”—I grab his cock and try to align it with my sex—“please fuck me. Please.”
“Yeah. Oh, fuck, yeah.” He sounds incredulous as he rolls on top of me, his hips settling between my open thighs. “Whatever you want, beautiful. Whatever you fucking”—he thrusts in deep—“want.”
We both groan when he’s seated to the hilt, his thickness stretching me to the limit. I’m not as wet as usual, but it doesn’t matter. The near-painful friction, the overwhelming force of his sudden entry—it’s exactly what I need. This is not about sex or pleasure.
It’s about being his.
“Yulia…” His voice is a tortured groan as he begins to move inside me. “Fuck, baby, you feel so amazing…”
“Yes.” I wrap my legs around his muscular thighs, taking him even deeper. “Yes, just like that. Oh God, just like that.”
He complies, his rhythm strong and steady, and I forget all about the initial discomfort. As he keeps thrusting, a wild heat ignites inside me, a need that’s purely animalistic. I want him to fuck me so hard it hurts, to make me come so much I’ll forget my own name.
I want his savagery to destroy my demons.
“Harder,” I whisper, sinking my nails into his back. “Take me harder.”
He tenses, a shudder running through his big body, and I feel his cock swelling even more. A low growl rumbles in his chest, and he picks up the pace, his muscled ass flexing under my calves as he jackhammers into me, each thrust so deep it almost cleaves me in two. It should be too much, too hard, but my body embraces him, the heat inside me blazing brighter with every bruising stroke. I can hear my own cries, feel the explosive pressure building, and all my fears evaporate, leaving nothing but scorching pleasure.
“Lucas!” I don’t know if I scream his name, or if it’s only in my mind, but at that moment, he lets out a hoarse cry, and I feel him jetting into me as white-hot ecstasy rips through my nerve endings. The orgasm is so powerful my entire body arches upward and white flecks appear at the edges of my vision. It seems to go on forever, one pulsing spasm after another, but eventually, the waves of pleasure recede, and awareness slowly returns.
Lucas is lying on top of me, his big body covered with sweat, but just as I register the heavy weight of his frame, he rolls off me, gathering me against him so that my head rests on his shoulder. We lie like that, both panting and too drained to move, and as my heartbeat begins to slow, the heavy lethargy of satiation steals over me.
“Sleep tight, baby,” I hear him whisper as it pulls me under, and I close my eyes, knowing I’m safe.
I belong to Lucas, and he’ll keep the bad dreams away.