31. Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty

Satisfaction courses through me when Justin drops to his knees without me having to ask. I feel like I've finally won. But this is only one thing. He isn't quite there yet. Still, we're moving in the right direction. I have to put my hand on the wall to steady myself when he takes me into his mouth, sucking me like his lifeline. Never has anyone's mouth felt so fucking good before. His eagerness tells me I did good. Tempting him with my cum but never giving him my cock has made him needy. Just like I wanted.

My free hand goes to the back of his head, but I don't guide him. I let him do what he wants, because he's working hard to make me come all by himself. It's almost like he's trying to prove a point. Trying to show me he knows my body the same way I know his.

He doesn't. Not even close.

But he will one day.

No matter what the repercussion is, Justin will be mine, and anyone who tries to take him from me will die.

It's that fucking simple.

He works hard to take my thick cock all the way into his mouth. It's a struggle, but he does good.

"So fucking good, baby," I tell him, running my hand down his cheek and along his jaw. He doesn't seem like the type to need praise, but I like giving it anyway. I can't be sure, but Justin seems more into degradation. He wants to be controlled and devoured.

I can do that. I will do that.

It doesn't take long for that familiar warmth to settle in my stomach.

"You're going to make me come," I tell him.

He looks up at me, and I see the smile in his eyes. My baby is proud of himself. He takes me as deep as he can, his throat tightening around the head of my cock. I push him deeper, and the constriction around my dick sends me over the edge. I come with a long, low groan. His eyes flutter shut, his throat working as he swallows me down. I release him when I'm done. He licks his lips, staring up at me like he wants more.

But I see the exact moment it all changes.

The moment he realizes what he did.

The moment he regrets it.

I hold his gaze, trying to keep my face as neutral as I can. Even though a heavy weight has just settled in my chest. I don't want the desperation I feel to show.

Don't do this, Justin.

I thought things were going right. I thought he was finally accepting this.

Accepting me.

I'm not angry that he is being so difficult. Truly, it is fun for me. But I'm starting to feel something about it.

Doubt, maybe.

That maybe this isn't going to work out the way I want and he won't actually give in.

I hate doubting myself and the decisions I make.

His eyes don't lie though. There is something there. Something for me. Some sort of attraction or connection. May not be as strong as what I feel, but it is there.

He's fighting it. He doesn't want it. He doesn't want me. But subconsciously, he does. Deep down, he knows I'm exactly what he needs. There is a part of him that knows I'm what he wants.

But which side of him will win?

The side he hides? Or the side he shows the world?

He stands up, running a hand through his hair and avoiding eye contact by staring at the ground. I want to hold him and beg him not to do this. Not to push me away. I hate feeling raw and vulnerable like this, but it's what he does to me. I won't give up though. I just have to play this the way he wants.

"Don't worry. I'll get out so you can finish your shower," I say.

He doesn't react. I watch him for a moment, hoping he'll say it's okay and that I can stay, but he doesn't. So I get out like I said I would. I find a towel in the cabinet and dry my body. My hair is barely wet as I never got under the spray of the water. In fact, I think that was the first shower I've taken in my whole life when I didn't wash up. And I'd intended to when I went in there. I was just going to take a shower. Sure, I'd hoped to touch his dick. Wanted him to touch mine. But that wasn't my plan.

I grab my pants from the dryer, get dressed even though they're stained with blood. I tried the shirt he gave me, but it's just too small. It looks ridiculous and I'd rather not wear one at all.

Justin doesn't have much food here, but I find an expired box of muffins that'll probably be fine. Only to realize he has no eggs, so that's out the window.

"Why don't you have any food in this house?" I shout.

He walks in a moment later, dressed in nothing but a pair of jeans that should be fucking illegal. His hair is still wet, small droplets of water dripping onto his chest.

My heart literally skips a beat when I see him.

I wish I knew why he makes me feel the way I do. Wish I knew why I react to him this way. Of all the people I've met through the years, all the people I've killed without blinking an eye, this man is the one who stops me dead in my tracks? He's the one I'm risking it all for? Why? Why the hell is he so damn special?

He smirks, stepping toward me and picking up the muffin box to look at the back. He tosses it onto the counter, before looking over my clothing. Or lack thereof.

"Where's the shirt I gave you?" he asks. He smiles lightly, looking as if nothing just happened between us. It hurts. I won't lie. There's a stab to my heart that I don't like. But this is what he does. He pushes down his feelings because he's afraid of them. Puts on a front and goes on with his life like things don't happen on the way.

"Didn't fit."

He nods, looking at my jeans and frowning. "Do you have any clothes that aren't stained with blood?"

"Yeah, at my place. I also have food there, too, by the way. How do you live like this?" I gesture around the kitchen.

He stares at me, his smile slowly growing, and it's strange. Normally he's annoyed with me or avoids looking at me. Now, he's openly watching me like he's entertained. I shouldn't be surprised.

This is what he does.

But the whiplash is getting old.

"The cabin?" he questions. I shake my head but keep note that he knows the cabin is mine. Has known the cabin is mine. Yet he keeps telling himself he doesn't know where to find me to kill me? He's so good at hiding things from himself, it's truly amazing. "Is it far?"

"Across town. Why?"

"Was going to grab breakfast at the diner down the street, like I always do, but we can't do that with you dressed like this." He gestures to my naked torso and blood-stained jeans.

"What, this isn't the style nowadays?" I hold my arms out and spin around.

"Maybe in Detroit or New York City."

I chuckle.

"Go change and meet me back here," he says.

His words are light. Simple. He wants to have breakfast with me and is willing to wait at least an hour for me to go home and change.

"Or you could come with me, and I'll make you breakfast, like I wanted to do in the first place."

He regards me for a moment, his smile falling as he thinks it over. He nods once, and says, "Okay."

"Okay as in yes?" I caution. He can't have possibly given in so easily.

"Okay as in yes," he says.

"Is this a trick?" I step toward him.

"No trick."

"Why?" I ask, looking down at him.

He sighs. "Keep asking me questions, and I'll change my mind."

Don't want that to happen.

I hold my hands up and step back. "Fine. Let's go then."

He heads into his bedroom to finish getting dressed. My cell phone buzzes in my pocket, so I pull it out. When I see my father's name, I groan. Fuck.

"I'm stepping out to take a call," I shout before heading out the front door and going down the hall.

"Privet, Papa," I answer, trying to hide my annoyance.

"Mne nuzhno obnovleniye." My father's tone is casual as he requests an update from me.

"I'm working on it."

He prefers me to speak to him in Russian, considering he understands it better than English, but speaking Russian gets too much attention. Answering in English, tells him it isn't a good time to talk.

"Call me in the morning," he grits out, then the call ends.

"Loshad' mochi," I mutter, shoving the phone into my pocket and heading back toward Justin's condo. By the time I reach the door, he's opening it.

"You ready?" he asks.

I glance down, making sure I have everything, but realize I need my keys.

"Just my keys. They're on the table."

He grabs them for me, hands them over, and we leave.

When we get into my truck, I realize there's blood all over.

"You seriously drove here?" Justin asks, looking at the dried blood with a frown.

I shrug, turning over the engine. "How else would I have gotten here?"

He shakes his head and buckles his seatbelt but doesn't give an answer. I need to make sure I give this a good cleaning.

The entire drive to my place, all I can think about is why I'm here—in this country. Why my father sent me to the states in the first place, and how if Justin ever finds out, he'll never talk to me again. And I can't have that happen.