The Bratva's Bride (Wicked Doms 2)
Page 65
I don’t want her to leave me. I don’t want her to be my prisoner. I want her to be the very special girl I call my own. She wears my ring and bears my name, and though it shocks the hell out of me, I realize now… that means something to me.
Hell, it means everything to me.
I hold her in my grasp, a little caged bird, but when I open that cage and set her free, she’ll fly away. And if I really love her… if she really does mean something to me and those vows I stated held truth… I’ll have to let her go.
“Come here, sweet girl,” I whisper, even though she’s already within my grasp, her hands resting on my still-clothed shoulders. “Are you tired?”
“A little,” she whispers. “But not so much that I…” she captures her full bottom lip between her teeth, and looks at me from beneath lowered lashes. My heart squeezes a little. “That I don’t have a little more energy left.”
Her sweet, flirtatious words make me chuckle, and it feels so damn good to laugh again. I haven’t laughed for years until Calina. For years, since I’ve embraced the code of the Bratva, I’ve lived a somber life. But now… Calina brings me out into the light.
I release her and begin to undress. I’ve long since shed my suit jacket, and now it’s just a matter of removing the stiff, formal clothing that separates me from her. I unbutton my shirt and shrug out of it, my eyes fixed on hers as she looks at me hungrily. Lustfully. I’ve brought her to climax and worked her body so hard and so long, her reaction sparks to life unbidden. She gathers a ragged breath and releases it slowly, swallowing when I toss my t-shirt off and stand bare-chested in front of her. I watch as her gaze roams over the markings on my body. She’s so fascinated by them, asking me questions about what they mean and how I got them.
“Why are you so fascinated with my tattoos, little kisa?” I ask, while I unbutton my trousers.
“Well, first,” she says with a quirky little smile. “They’re really, really hot.”
I smile at that.
“And also, I like that they each mean something.” I stand in nothing but my boxers now, and she takes a step closer to me. Her fingernails are painted a pretty coral color, as soft as the sunrise. I watch as she traces the tattoos on my arms and neck. “Each one of these tells a story. They’re battle scars, if you will.” And to my surprise, she bends and places a kiss on the rose on my bicep.
“Perhaps I should get another,” I whisper, caught in the power of this moment. Husband and wife, bared to one another and on the verge of consummating their marriage. “One for you, Calina.”
Placing her hand on my cheek, she draws my gaze to hers. “I would like that,” she says with a teasing smile. “What would you get?”
“A little kitten, perhaps.”
Her lips part just before I capture them. Running my hands through her hair, I gently tug it until it cascades around her like black satin, fragrant and smooth, framing her petite face. I draw her close to me as we kiss, speaking words we can’t say out loud. Letting our bodies say what we can’t give voice to, how we’re more than captor and prisoner. That this night transcends the physical. That our vows hold weight.
Her eyes flutter shut as mine do. She sighs into my mouth when my tongue sweeps hers, a surge of arousal and adrenaline coursing through me. My cock presses hard and tight at her belly. I groan when she grinds herself against me. I lift her into my arms as if she’s meant to be here, just like this, and her arms automatically encircle my neck, but we don’t stop kissing. We kiss with passion and ardor, as if this is our last night together, as I walk her toward the bedroom.
I’ve ordered vases and vases of red roses be brought in in our absence.
“The flowers,” she whispers. “A garden of roses.” When she looks at me, she tips her head curiously. “For us?”
“For you,” I tell her. “My people value flowers, and vast quantities, to mark special occasions. These seemed fitting.”
“They’re beautiful,” she whispers. “So pretty. I will always remember them.” I ignore the note of sadness in her voice and lay her down on the bed, silencing her by framing her body with mine and kissing her once more. I don’t hold her down or take her roughly. I do nothing but kiss her, anointing every inch of her body until she vibrates with need. I hold her to me while our lips speak passion and promise. I don’t want to let her go. Even an inch of space between us seems too much.