Chapter 37

Thirty-Seven

R uby

Kirill has mostly worked from home the past two weeks. Some days, I wake feeling energized and refreshed, and other days I wake sick as a dog and bent over the toilet for the first half hour.

I'm beginning to suspect my stress ulcer might have flared, because my symptoms are beginning to look like the ones I'd had when I'd developed it my second year of university, when Mama got sick and I still had to ace my exams. The pressure had been real, because although I'd been plagued with worry for her, she had made me promise not to throw all my hard work away.

And heaven knows I'm stressed. I've been stressed since before Christmas, when I was taken. It's now nearing the end of March—and there's no denying (although I haven't admitted it aloud) that I am madly, deeply, entirely in love with my husband.

"Which one?" Kirill holds two ties in his hands. A red one and a blue one. With his beard longish like this, there are deep flecks of burnished red that play peek-a-boo in the sun.

"The red one."

He raises a brow. "You chose the blue one yesterday. Why red today?"

I laugh where I sit cross-legged on the edge of the bed with Nala curled up in my lap, exhausted, and asleep, after a night of kitten terrors. "Because I chose the blue one yesterday."

Kirill nods at the cat. "You should wake that thing. Poke it or something."

"Nala, her name is Nala."

"Demon. Her name is Demon." He fixes his tie in place, and I suddenly wish I knew how to tie a tie.

I bite my lip. "Will you teach me to do that?"

"What?" His gaze falls to my mouth. A spark of heat flares, and I clear my throat.

"Tie your ties?"

His grin is slow and deliciously wicked as he stalks me across the room. "You want to tie my ties?"

His pitch has dropped so much, I feel it in my core. I nod slowly. "Yes."

"I like teaching you things," his voice is husky.

I wet my lips, and his eyes drop. Behind his suit pants, I see him harden. I want to please him. I want to make him shatter—and he hasn't been willing, lately. He thinks I'm sicker than I am. I think I just have an ulcer and have been practicing yoga every day in order to relieve my stress.

"I like it when you teach me things, too."

Eyes flaring, he curses low under his breath. "I have to go into the office today."

"I know." I lift Nala from my lap to scoot closer to him. "We leave for America tomorrow."

"We do." His eyes search my face. "You've had a good morning this morning. How are you feeling?"

"Perfectly fine." I climb onto my knees to wrap my arms around his neck. His come around my waist to pull me tight to his hard body. I moan at the feel of his hard arousal in my belly, and feel wet warmth spill into my panties.

I'm beyond turned on, and rub myself into him.

"Fucking hell, Ruby." He groans a broken, desperate sound, and then he's kissing me.

I kiss him back, deep and hungry. When he looses a tortured groan, I push away to slide off the bed closer to him. Then I slide to my knees.

" Wife ." His eyes shutter.

I reach for the buckle of his belt, working it lose before he catches my wrists in his large hands. "Ruby…"

"Please," I beg. "I want to taste you."

He looks pained, but after a few beats, he releases my wrists. I pull him from his pants, unable to take my eyes off him as I begin to stroke him from base to tip and back again. I'm not sure he's breathing as I explore the feel of him, heavy and thick, and so warm in my hands. His eyes are so dark, like a black hole sucking me in.

I want to make him wild. I want him crazy with want.

I want to shatter him as he's shattered me so many times.

A bead of moisture appears on his tip, and his jaw clenches tight as he swallows hard.

Wetting my lips, I lean forward and lick his tip slowly. He hisses in a sharp breath as I moan a throaty sound, and then I open wide and take him in as far as I can.

"Fuck," he bites out.

His dick is heavy and swollen and so smooth in my mouth as I bob my head, sliding him over my tongue, hitting his tip at the back of my throat, and sucking hard then light, hard then light. I see the madness in his eyes in the seconds before he spears my hair with his fingers. He angles my head, forcing my eyes to his as he begins to thrust his hips. He's fucking my mouth with long and measured thrusts, hitting the back of my throat and sucking in air every time he does.

"I love your hot mouth, little wife," he grunts between thrusts. "I've thought of filling this hole so many times, watching my cum drip from the corners of your mouth as I stuff you full of my cock and cum." I love his dirty words . "Fuck, the way your full lips look stretched around me."

His words make me so hot and wet…

I groan loud around his dick, wanting him to do to me all the depraved things he craves. I want to be the focus of his fantasies come to life. I want to be everything to this man who has become everything to me.

Possessed by the carnal sin that is this man, my husband, I dip my hand into my panties—into the wet between my legs. It's the first time I've touched myself, and as I twirl my finger around my swollen clit, Kirill watches me with a dark hunger. Shadows of sin dance behind the black of his eyes, as he wets his lips.

"That's it, wife. Touch your pretty little cunt while I fuck your beautiful mouth." His hips lose their rhythm, his thrusts becoming frantic and hard and just a little brutal. "Fuck your pussy with your fingers." He grunts. "Come all over your lovely hand as I come down the back of your throat."

I do as he instructs, but the feeling isn't quite right—I can't?—

He spills his seed down the back of my throat in ribbon after ribbon, throb after throb of release. I take it all, swallowing desperately around him as he pins me to him, his tip lodged brutally in the back of my throat. It's so hot, so raw, so Kirill, I nearly come—but can't seem to tip myself over the edge.

Spent, he pulls from my mouth gently. With the pad of his thumb, he pushes a drop of his cum between my lips, before he growls roughly, "You didn't come."

I shake my head. "I—couldn't."

One minute, I'm on my knees before him. The next, he's tossed me onto the bed. My mind spins as the sound of my shredding panties fills the space, and then his mouth is on me. His tongue slides between my entrance and clit and back again, teasing me—driving me wild. My fingers curl in the mussed sheets as my neck arcs. He sucks my clit into his mouth with a delicious violence before he releases it to spear me with his tongue. Stars dance behind my eyes as he forces my legs wider apart, I feel the warm wet of his spit before I feel his finger against my— butt .

"No!" The word is something between a shriek and a moan.

"Yes." His growl rumbles through me, and then I feel a slow but insistent pressure. His mouth is on my clit again, and he's pushing his finger into my tight hole.

When I make to escape him—to escape the pressure, he clamps the iron band of his arm around my waist, pinning me in place. And then he begins to pump his finger slowly in and out of my hole as he toys with my clit with his teeth.

The sensation is unlike anything I've ever experienced. Like nothing I've ever felt before.

I'm not me anymore. I am sensation. I am something other. Something?—

"Oh!" Something is building. White hot light is arcing through me. Fire. Lightning. Chaos. "Kirill!"

He loses my clit to peer up the length of my body at me. "That's it, wife," he urges roughly. "Come for me. Shatter as I finger-fuck your sweet ass, and know that soon, it'll be my dick in here. Spreading you. Stretching you. Fucking you."

His words send me over the edge, and as I come unstitched in an orgasm that powers through me like no other, he pulls his finger out of me and, gripping the base of his hard dick, he slams home inside my core.

I scream as I erupt again. He rides me through wave after wave, slamming into me with a hungry kind of desperation that I pray we always know for each other. And then he's filling me with his release again.

I am entirely spent, my limbs liquid as I lay on the bed, heavy and achy and weak from the violence of my orgasms. Kirill, however, is as composed as ever as he tucks himself back into his pants.

He leans down to press a kiss to my mouth, giving me more dirty words. "Be a good girl and sleep. I'm going to be hard as fuck all day long knowing the scent of you coats my dick, so when I return, be prepared to be fucked," he threatens, "hard."

With that, he presses one more kiss to my mouth, before he exits the room.

For my part, I do as I'm told and sleep.