Page 9 of Tangled Souls (Bratva Souls Duet #2)

KIRILL

I need Oaklynn. I need to feel her, to assure myself that she’s safe and whole. The only problem is that my blood is boiling, and I don’t know if I can control myself.

The need to go down to our new warehouse and find out why this Adam fool thought it would be a good idea to approach our woman while at a charity event meeting is riding me hard. As much as I want to make him bleed, the need to be with our woman, to stay at her side, is even stronger.

I’ve never felt more divided in my needs and I’m not sure what to do about it.

Oaklynn locks eyes with me from her perch on Maxim’s lap. I don’t know what she can see on my face, but it has her standing and gliding across the room towards me. Every time I watch our woman, her grace and the way she carries herself has a way of always taking my breath away.

I don’t deserve her. There is too much blood soaking my soul. There is too much darkness in my heart.

But she doesn’t seem to notice. Or maybe she just doesn’t care.

Either way, she’s mine and I’m not letting her go. I’ll just do the best I can to be a better man for her.

Her small hands cup my face and her touch grounds me; it’s not enough. Her brown eyes are locked with my dark ones which are probably promising pain and retribution.

“It’s not your fault, Kirill,” her words are meant to be soothing but the fire inside of me continues to burn.

“It is my fucking fault,” I spit the words. “I didn’t want you going to that meeting and then when you do go, which I knew was going to be a problem, someone approached you and threatened you.”

Oaklynn tilts her head to the side, her eyes searching mine. I know what she’ll find there. Devastation. Fear. Confusion. Undying love. Possession.

“I’m not a doll you can put on a shelf, Kirill,” her words are shards of glass which rip against my skin, leaving tatters in their wake.

“I won’t allow it. Never fucking again.” She shakes her head, the movement curt and final.

“I would have gone to that meeting with or without your permission. Knowing about Mikhail and the threat he poses doesn’t change that I am going to live my life.

I wasn’t unprotected; someone was standing at my back, and I was able to handle the situation. ”

“You shouldn’t have to handle a situation in the fucking first place,” I roar the words.

Oaklynn doesn’t flinch. She doesn’t cower in fear. She doesn’t even fucking blink.

“Maxim, Huck, and Baker,” she addresses the guys who are watching us closely without dropping my gaze, “you three need to go and talk to that Adam fool. Find out what you need to find out. Kirill and I will be here when you get home.” She leans forward, her nose touching mine, and commands, “Follow me.”

When she turns and strides out of the room and toward the stairs without looking back the only thing I can do is stand up and follow her. I know if I were to look at the guys then I’d see the smug as fuck looks on their faces. So, I don’t.

I’m about to be put in my place. It’s not something I’m used to. The guys have tried over the years, but with Oaklynn it’s different. She’s the only one who could get away with giving any of us orders the way she just did.

Pride blooms in my chest, leaving warmth in its wake. But it doesn’t touch the fear sliding through my veins.

What if he was more unassuming and hadn’t set off her instincts? What if he hadn’t said a word and just waited for the right moment to grab her? What if anything happened differently?

Every step I take toward her room, the room we’ve all imposed upon since the wedding because it feels like a sanctuary, feels heavy. Even though they’re silent steps, I can feel them reverberate through my body.

When I step through the door it’s to find Oaklynn just finishing unzipping her dress. The fabric slides down her body, caressing her skin as it does. The lace panties and bra she’s wearing are blood red. Violent. Dangerous.

Her eyes are dark and filled with challenge as she looks at me over her shoulder.

“You’re going to take what you need; I’ll absorb it all.

Then you’re going to let it go. I’m fine and was more than capable of taking care of myself.

” When she turns, the way her tits are presented in scraps of red lace is momentarily distracting.

Her voice takes on an edge, one as sharp as the knife tucked away in her purse, “Unless you don’t believe I’m capable of standing beside you?

Maybe you don’t think I’m strong enough? ”

“No,” I bark, “you are strong enough. You’re the strongest woman I’ve ever met. I don’t doubt your abilities to take care of yourself,” my tone is harsh even though my words are meant to be soft, they feel soft in my heart.

“Really?” She reaches behind her back and unclips her bra, the lace slipping away and falling in a heap at her feet.

Next, she slips from her shoes without looking away from me.

When she slides her panties down over her hips and allows them to drop, my mouth starts to water.

“Love is not always responsibility; it isn’t always penance.

More often than not, it’s trust. Do you trust me, Kirill? ”

“I trust you, Solnishko ,” the words are coarse and broken.

“But you’re angry. You feel like you failed me,” it’s not a question, it’s a statement of fact.

“I did.”

Her brown eyes narrow. “No,” the word lands like a bomb between us.

And then I can’t stay still. I close the distance between us in two steps, my hands gripping her body far too tightly. She doesn’t complain.

No, her eyes flare with something like triumph, a victory she revels in.

“Hands and knees,” I command, the words dark and smokey.

The tendrils of the demand wrap around our woman, but she welcomes it. With a smirk, she turns and does my bidding.

I practically rip the clothes from my body, hardly able to wait and needing to show our woman exactly who owns her. Needing to claim her. Again.

No matter how many times I do, I have a feeling it’ll never be enough.

My cock is throbbing by the time I’m standing naked behind her. She doesn’t look at me over her shoulder, she keeps her eyes forward, but she wiggles her ass in invitation.

She might as well wave a flag in front of a bull.

With a growl, I step up to the edge of the bed. It’s the perfect height for the quick fuck that I already know won’t be enough to take the edge off this feeling burning inside of me. The fear.

One hand grips her hip while the other slides up the middle of her back. I grab a swath of her hair and wrap it around my fist. With a tug, I force her body to bow, loving the whimper of need that falls from her lips.

I can see how wet she is, her arousal shimmering in the low light in the room as it coats her needy pussy lips. She needs this just as much as I do.

My eyes slide closed, and I force myself to take a deep breath, needing to center myself and keep ahold of my control, at least a sliver of it. “Are you sure?” My question is a low rasp; one filled with restrained need.

“Give me your anger, Kirill,” her words are sharp.

They rip through the tenuous hold I have on my control.

And I’m lost.

I watch earnestly as the head of my cock kisses her entrance. The moment it does, I punch my hips forward and fill her. Hard.

And I let go.

I slam into her without care or thought. I’m not fucking her for pleasure. My movements are filled with desperate devotion and fueled by a rage I’ve never experienced before.

My eyes stay locked on the way her cunt opens up for me, stretching around my shaft as she coats me with her arousal. She’s so fucking wet for me, but every brutal thrust, every time I hit the back of her channel without care for whether I’m hurting her or not, she gets even wetter.

It feels like I’m floating. Above the clouds. Above the atmosphere. Above the stars.

I’m amongst the galaxies, so small and insignificant. I’m not what matters.

She is.

Our wife.

She’s all that matters.

“He could have hurt you,” I grit the words out. “He could have taken you from us.”

Fear starts to cloud my vision, turning it hazy. My heart pounds harder with every thrust, her body accepting me and trying to hold me in place with how tight her pussy is clamping down around my cock.

“Kirill,” she keens, “more.”

The grip I have on her hair tightens and I force her to arch her back and heed the way I’m directing her body. Molding her beauty with my hands makes time stand still and race through my soul at the same time.

I’m a panting mess as I fuck our wife harder and faster. The sound of our skin slapping together is obscene and on the edge of barbaric. I’ve never heard anything sexier in my life.

“Yes,” the word starts as a whisper, but it builds as she repeats it. A mantra, the plea stringing together with an underscore of pain.

“I’m never letting you go, Oaklynn,” I grunt. “If you’re put in danger again, I’m punishing you.”

I know, underneath it all, that I’m being ridiculous.

I just don’t give a fuck.

“I’ll leave my handprint on your ass and the memory of my fingers around you throat if you’re ever in another situation like you were tonight.”

Oaklynn pushes back against me, meeting every one of my thrusts and spurring me on to give her more. Chasing her own pleasure while pushing mine.

Fear crawls up my back before wrapping itself around me completely. I can’t deny what tonight made me feel. There’s no way I can experience that helplessness again.

Never fucking again.

“Touch yourself,” I growl.

Her arm shakes when she balances on it so she can slide her hand between her thighs, her fingers going straight to her clit. The way her nails scrape across my shaft as I fuck her, has my eyes slamming closed.

I tip my head back and stop fucking breathing while trying to hold off from shooting my cum deep inside our woman. She’s going to come first. She has to.

“I’m gonna come,” her breathless warning feels like starlight; the words shimmering around us.

“Squeeze my cock, show me how much you like me using you and showing you who you belong to,” I grit out through my teeth.

Sweat is coating me, and my dick is so painfully hard that I don’t know if I want to fuck her harder or cry. My balls are heavy, and my spine is tingling, warning me of just how close I am to blowing my load.

When her breath hitches and I can feel her orgasm start to wash over her, I release her hip and spank one of her ass cheeks and then the other. Hard.

She screams, her body locking up as she squeezes me even tighter and comes.

I slam into her a few more times before I bury myself as deep inside of her as I can. Her shoulders fall toward the bed, and I follow her down, the grip I have on her hair ensuring that the movement is slow. Suspended. In my fucking control.

Her pussy walls milk my shaft, and I grunt, “I can feel your body begging me for my cum. Soon I’ll be planting my baby in your womb, nothing will stop me from knocking you up. You’ll look so fucking sexy round with our baby.”

I’m not even sure where those words come from, but as spurt after spurt of my cum paint her walls, all I can picture is that fucking implant in her arm which is preventing me from breeding her right now.

I hate that fucking implant.

The moment the last of my cum fills her, I let go of her hair and she slumps to the side. I crawl behind her and pull her against my front. Needing to feel her body against mine.

When she rolls over, a small groan escapes her body. Moving isn’t easy because her body feels boneless. I can’t help but feel smug as fuck.

But the smirk on my face disappears when I meet our wife’s gaze. “It’s okay to be scared, Kirill.”

Her words feel like a bullet to the chest. I’ve never been allowed to be weak, to be vulnerable. But I know it’s different with Oaklynn. With her everything is different.

She’ll never judge me.

She’ll never look at me differently.

She’ll never think less of me.

“I can’t lose you,” my voice is like gravel, and I clear my throat, hoping my next words sound smoother. “I won’t lose you.” I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I was scared when you called me, and I hated it. Being helpless isn’t something I can handle.”

Her thumb runs between my eyebrows, smoothing the skin there. My face instantly relaxes, and I can breathe a little easier.

“I’m right here,” she assures me. “I’m safe and I had the situation handled.” She looks away and bites her bottom lip before she looks at me again. “I could have been wrong. He might just be a creepy man who has more money than sense and an overinflated sense of entitlement.”

“I don’t think you were wrong,” I whisper, “and that scares me even more. What if it was Mikhail and not this Adam fucker?”

“Then he would have never gotten that close to me,” she assures me.

I want to believe her, I do, but it’s not easy. I also want to be in the warehouse with the guys.

Oaklynn giggles and pinches my chest. “You’re thinking about torturing him in the warehouse while your cock is still wet from me,” she chastises me.

Laughter bursts out of me as I roll onto my back. The weight of tonight, of what could have been, isn’t quite as heavy as it was. It’s still there, I can’t imagine a time when it’ll disappear entirely, but it does feel like something I can shoulder now.

I roll to face our woman again and cup her cheek, my hand looking comically large, “I love you, Oaklynn.”

The smile she gives me is luminous. “I love you too.”

It’s not Adam’s blood spray as a badge of honor, but it’s enough. The guys will get the information we need. I have no doubt about it.