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He flopped on his back, his forearm thrown over his face.
“Jesus Christ,” he breathed, his chest still heaving. Then he rolled over to me and landed a long, wet kiss on my mouth as his hand rubbed his cum into my belly, then between my legs.
“Ivan, you’re making a mess of me,” I griped lightly, though his sensuously possessive actions were a huge turn on, sexually and emotionally. It created a strange euphoria, making me feel treasured and owned in a way I never imagined I’d find so gratifying.
“I know,” he said, finally removing his hand.
I sighed, while the actions were hot, the aftereffects were a little uncomfortable, as I felt his semen tightening on my body. I shook my head, unable to believe I lived a life where I was becoming so familiar with the sensation of dried cum on my skin. “I should clean up—”
“No,” Ivan said, flipping me around and pulling me back against his chest, his arms banding around mine, keeping them immobilized. I wanted to complain about yet another restraint, but we were technically cuddling, and I was exhausted. I also wanted to complain about how gross I was, but before I could put up a fight, I was asleep.
Chapter 26
Ivan
I was more soundly asleep than I’d been in years when I felt a hand on my back. Instinct roared to life, jerking me out of unconsciousness, nervous system on high alert, my mind racing. One thought rushed through my head: THREAT. Kill. Kill. Kill.
With blind rage and remembered pain, I rolled over, fist raised ready to annihilate whoever was fucking stupid enough to make a move on me.
Reacting out of pure instinct, I laid my forearm across their throat, ready to strike, before my eyes cleared and I realized I was staring into Emmy’s terrified, confused eyes.
“I-Ivan? What’s going on?” she whispered, either from fright or the restrictive force of my forearm pressing on her vocal cords.
I quickly pulled my arm away, adrenaline still pumping through my bloodstream, and tried to act normal. This was the last thing I wanted Emmy witnessing.
I blew out a breath and stroked dark strands of her hair back from face, looking to soothe her, looking to make her forget how fucking unhinged I was.
“Sorry, Emmy, I’m not used to sleeping with another person. I get a little…edgy,” I finished.
What a fucking understatement.
I expected to see horror, terror, or worse, fucking pity, on her face, but I didn’t. Instead of judgment, her incandescent blue eyes softened in compassion and comprehension. As if this response answered more questions than it raised.
She raised her fingers, stroking me lightly on the cheek, almost as if afraid to touch me. Understandable, considering the circumstances. Her fingertips grazed my skin, feather light, but somehow deeply relaxing. My heartbeat started to slowly regulate, instead of feeling like it was going to pound out of my chest.
“It’s okay, I’m fine. I understand,” she reassured gently, as she might a feral animal.
Her naive comment made me want to laugh in her face. She really didn’t understand shit, but that was okay, because I never wanted to revisit the events of that night. It was a reminder of my stupid trust, when I let my dick and my heart almost lead me into an early grave. Let her think I was just touchy and over-reactive.
It was preferable to the truth.
As she continued to lightly touch me, this weird acceptance had my throat tightening, pushing more uncomfortable emotions to the surface. I gave her soft kisses on her mouth, her cheek, unable to stop myself from holding her hands down at her sides as I kissed her.
Her hands—two wandering triggers that pulled me back into a past I was constantly trying to forget.
I pulled back, affection for her roaring so forcefully through me I had to swallow to release the tension in my throat. “Go back to sleep, Emmy. I’m fine now,” I assured her. I was definitely not falling back asleep, but I wanted her to. She needed the rest, especially after I mauled her all night.
She gave me a long, doubtful look. “You’re going to sleep, too, right?” she asked, as if she could see through to my real intentions.
I nodded, hating to lie, but needing her to go back to sleep so I could completely calm the fuck down. “Yeah, I’ll be here,” I said, lying on my side. I rolled her on her side away from me so I could hold her from behind. This way I could control her movements and she couldn’t see my lying face.
She breathed out a deep sigh and relaxed back against me. As much as I avoided contact with other people, I was hard-pressed not to enjoy the feel of her naked body against me, her softness, her heat, her light floral citrus scent mixed with my come that I was all too aware still saturated her skin.
My dick started to harden at the memory of rubbing it all over her pussy, the pussy I’d demanded she say belonged to me. It was an uncomfortable instinct—the possessiveness, the need to mark her—but so overpowering I kept doing it.
Fuck, now my dick was leaking against her ass as she took in the deep breaths associated with sleep. Reluctantly, I pulled myself back and slid out of bed, needing to remove myself from her or I’d roll her over and fuck her again.
I pulled on a pair of pants, checking my phone. Four in the morning and two messages.