Page 50 of Ashfall
NOCTURNE
One year later
My feet stomp up the stairs of the safehouse as I make my way through to the master bedroom - heading for a shower after working out in the gym for most of the afternoon. My muscles ache from the session, and my hair sticks to my forehead as evidence of my effort. The summers in Moscow aren't usually too warm, but this past week has been unforgiving. I turned one of the guest bedrooms into a gym the last couple of months, so I don’t need to spend too much time outside of the fortress I've built, which has now become my permanent residence.
I head straight to the ensuite and step beneath the rainfall shower, twisting the faucet until the cold-water rushes over me. My head tilts back, and my eyes close shut. Letting the chill sting my skin, cooling the heat radiating from my muscles that have been worn thin by the day's demands. It helps clear my mind too, washing away the shadows that threaten to resurface if I leave them unattended too long.
I throw on a pair of briefs and sweatpants, tugging them into place as I wander towards the bed. Popping a baseball cap backwards to flatten the mop of my still damp hair. Half to tame it, the other half for reasons that may have a possible ulterior motive. Collapsing down on the mattress, my limbs sprawl out whilst flicking the TV on. The room is awash with an amber haze spilling from the tinted windows, hinting that the sun's about to call it a day. The TV show - that I still don’t know the fucking name of - murmurs as background noise, breaking the otherwise silent ambiance.
My hand reaches over the bedside table to grab my phone, ready to send an impatient message to the recipient. Both my thumbs are suspended in mid-air over the screen as a lone finger glides along the back, poking out over the top - pausing my demand mid-execution. Brodie's long, dark hair comes into view as she guides the phone down, bringing her face in line with mine, the bed dipping as she comes to settle in between my thighs.
There she is, my fallen angel.
My wife.
A smirk edges my lips, “You're lucky. You were about to miss the beginning of your favorite show, Mrs Morozov.” A soul shattering grin spreads across her face, amusement tangled deep within it. “Don't lie, Lev, you love this as much as I do.” She grabs the forgotten phone out of my grip, tossing it down the bed before it bounces onto the floor, likely meeting its demise with the thud it makes off the wooden floor. My fingers interlink, arms spreading wide behind my head as I watch her. Those mythical irises spill with hunger as they mark a path from my face and along my torso, her nails reaching out to drag from between my pecks and along my abs. Stopping right above the waistband, making my dick twitch.
“I know what you're doing.” Her voice is sultry, and she's an absolute smoke show when she glances back up at me beneath her long, dark lashes. I laugh as innocently as a man like me can. “Don’t know what you're talking about, Malyshka.” My own smirk fighting itself as I watch a small shiver shudder through her. “Yes, you do. Shirtless. Grey sweats. Arms behind your head. Cap on backwards and you're flexing like a fucking idiot.”Busted.“What? I can't help it if you find me so fucking irresistible.” She throws her head back, a throaty laugh blessing the room. I can no longer tame the grin that breaks across my face, or the ache that's threatening to consume my heart with the sound of its favorite melody.
There was a moment, twelve months ago, where I thought I'd never hear that laugh again. Never feel her warm skin on mine. Never hear the way she says my name, in that breathless voice that sends me fucking feral. That sinister look that breezes over her face when there’s devious thoughts dancing in her mind. My hands skim up her bare thighs, and I grip her closer to allow her to straddle me. My palms brush up her hips, and an involuntary groan rumbles in my chest the moment I feel she doesn’t have any underwear on. Especially underneath my fucking t-shirt that drowns her body. The sunset shining through the windows illuminates her ring, bouncing from the stone to wink at me, and it forces me back to our wedding - the memory holding me tightly in its grasp.
Iris by Goo Goo dolls fills the room, and for the first time in my life, my hands start to clam up. My breathing feels unsteady, but not from fear. It’s the sheer impossibility of this moment that’s come to life. After surviving what we have, the betrayals, the trust, to the whole world against us, I finally get to call her my wife. But none of that matters when I turn, my heart skidding to a stop as I take in her otherworldly form.
Her dark, long locks are curled into soft, loose waves down her back. She wears a short, black dress with a mesh corset and lace sleeves, showing a sliver of her tanned skin. The material’s covered in glittering black stones, like she grabbed the stars straight from the night sky and embodied herself as midnight. My true goddess of the night.
The world has never seen beauty like this. She is a dream and a nightmare wrapped in silk. And white was never meant for her. She would have been undeniably breathtaking. But in black? It reflects her essence, it’s the proof of all she's endured and survived. My eyes roam up from her perfect legs to meet her haunting green eyes, outlined in the same color as the material.
“'Fucking hell, Brodie-”
Her eyes widen, but her lips give away her amusement “Lev! You can't curse here.” She tries to keep scolding to a whisper, her nervous eyes flicking to the commissioner, then back at me.
I feel the wickedness spread through my veins as I look at her, like she's the only person in this fucking world, “We're not in church, Malyshka. The place would burn to the ground with both of us standing within its walls.” Heat sears her cheeks, her throat working in a deep swallow whilst her pupils dilate. And it sends a primal urge straight to my dick.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” Her voice drags me from the memory of eight months ago. One I find myself all too willing to go back to. The day I officially called her mine. My wife. But I say nothing, instead my hand grips her throat, pulling her lips to mine. I kiss her like a late-night storm rolling in, wild and unforgiving - leaving nothing untouched. Her hands roam my hair, the cap I wear clattering off the table as she claws her fingers over the stands, tugging from the roots. My smile breaksagainst our kiss, biting her lip and dragging my teeth along it before her tongue comes back for me.
She places her hands against my chest, pushing back to drag the t-shirt over her head, leaving just her wild, dark locks gracing her back.Fuck. It should be illegal for any woman to look like her. Roughness covers my words when I speak. “Because you're mine.” My eyes flicker to the scar denting her waist from the bullet hole, the one that almost separated us for good. My fingers reach out to soothe the skin, soothe the ache that tries to form. It’s a reminder that there’s always someone who thinks they can take what belongs to me.
Her impatient, greedy little fingers snap the elastic waistband of my sweats, and I give my wife exactly what she wants as I shift my hips, tugging the material down my legs, kicking them off at the end. She leans over me, her bones morphing into liquid, like a feline on the prowl as I get a peak at the muscles in her back, the light shadowing her toned and powerful figure. It drives me fucking crazy, the way her ass curves over her shoulder as she arches, dragging her tongue from my collar bone up to the shell of my ear. She has shivers crawling down my spine. “I love you, Lev.”
There it is again - thatvoice. It snaps the tattered threat on my control, unleashing my need for her.
I slap her pussy, making her cry out as her head throws back, hand slamming against the headboard. My hands grip the curves of her hip as I force her back, sliding her down onto my cock. She's fucking soaked. I whip a sharp slap against her ass, hoping it leaves a permanent handprint on that tanned, sculpted skin of hers. My fingers interlink and rest behind my head again, ready formyfavorite show. My gaze roams over her as she unhurriedly glides up and down. The tightness of her has my fingers digging into the back of my skull - I'm fighting not to touch her, it makes her so fucking needy when I don't. And I love to watch my girlsquirm. Her pace quickens, her head thrown back as she moans my name to the sky, like an unforgivable prayer.
My restraint crumbles, and my thumb glides circles across her wet bundle of nerves. I glance up to see her eyes squeeze shut, my hand slaps the side of her breast, forcing her eyes to spring open. "You know the rules, Malyshka. Eyes on me." She glances down at me through hooded eyes, and I know she's fighting the urge to let them roll back, so I snake my hand up her waist, pinching her nipple to test her.
"Fuck, Lev." That whimper tells me she's close, and the way she grips my cock, I won’t be far behind her.
I drive my hips up to meet her thrusts, hands now glued to her waist as I bring her down to meet my rhythm. Heat coils at the bottom of my spine, and I push my mind to think of anything else to hold it off, to savor in these moments. But when my name is wrapped around her cries, eyes rolling back and breasts pushed out with how much her spine arches, I lose the battle, my cum spilling inside her. Our erratic breathing mixes together as we stare at each other, my heart skittering beats - I can't take my eyes off her. I never can. To do so would be a fucking sin.
The smile she graces me with steals my entire soul, keeping it captive as her own. Her eyes hooded, cheeks flustered and the light sheen of sweat making her skin glisten like a fucking deity has touched down on earth. I'll never tire of this woman, and whilst she may look innocent on the outside, I know the truth that lies beneath her. She's just as dark as I am. Two monsters destined to be together with a love like wildfire. Our smoke forever lingering long after the burn scorches the earth, and our flames burn brighter than any stars in the sky.
The end.