37. Ana

THIRTY-SEVEN

Ana

I can't stop my mind trying to find a place to fit the woman from the restaurant. I'm good with faces but there's no recall. She had to be staring at me for a reason, you don't examine a person like that unless you know something. I play my book while Dima drives to block out all the other sounds, but it does nothing to stop the internal one questioning who the woman was.

I've always had this feeling that Yulia will find me. She'll want revenge, she'll make me relive things again, do things I don't want to do. It's dumb when I can kill her, I'm older and I know how to. I couldn't stop her when I was a child, but I can now.

My mind has finally shut off when a scene plays that has my eyes going wide, so I scrub it back to the beginning of the chapter. I'm forced back into life as Dima stops outside the house. He hesitates with his hand in mine as though he needs support. I give him my full attention and he kisses my palm before he softly says, "She didn't know Yulia, she knew me, lisichka."

As soon as I relax, there's a sinking feeling in my chest. She knew him. I don't like the thought of Dima touching someone else how he touches me. It makes sense now; she felt the same because he's good, the type of good that makes you never want to leave his presence.

I quickly get out of the car, forcing a smile so he doesn't know that it makes me feel weird. I've never had anything, but this feels like there's something being taken away. I'm used to my life, and I don't get attached to things or people. The few things I do have stay hidden, but Dima is too large in my life to hide. My stomach hurts, it's not indigestion, it just hurts, and he follows me into the house. I don't want to be around him when I don't know anything, it always makes me weaker, and the bags rustle in his hands as I run up the stairs.

I make it to the last step when arms wrap around my middle, and he pulls me into his chest. I don't fight, even if I feel weird and I don't why it's happening, I won't hurt him when he's hugging me, not hurting me.

"Where do you think you're going?"

There's playfulness in his voice but it doesn't relax me. I don't know why the sinking won't go away, it just gets worse, imagining him doing this with that woman.

My refusal to answer isn't out of stubbornness but ignorance. There's nowhere for me to go, I've got comfortable here and I don't want to run away anymore. He walks us towards his bedroom with his lips on the top of my head, and I can feel each breath he takes against my back. He lays me on the bed and leans over me, so we're eye to eye.

"Tell me you're mine, beautiful."

I don't. My voice comes out weak, asking for the same thing for the first time.

"You tell me."

The air in my lungs freezes and his smile is slow, sharklike, as he leans closer and gives in without thinking twice.

"Ya ne mogu bez tebya zhit." He presses his lips to my cheek. "Zhizn moya," to my other cheek, "dusha moya." Lifting up on his hands, he says against my lips, "Sladkaya lisichka."

I understand some of the words but others I've never heard before and they aren't in my vocabulary.

The sentiment doesn't need a translation and it pauses the sinking going any deeper. It's still there, hidden in my chest, but it doesn't grow as he gently lifts my chin with his knuckles and waits for me to tell him what's wrong. He's a patient person, I'd give up with me after an hour.

"I don't like that you knew her."

We both understand the meaning behind the word. He fucked her, they fucked each other. Shared things together. Dima had someone in his life that he would hug and smile at, he'd wrap his arms around them and let them feel safe like I do.

He's weird as fuck and gets happy, peppering my face with his lips. Tickling my ribs, he forces my laugh out and his smile gets wider. Once he's done tickling, me he cups my jaw and there's so much conviction in his voice it implants itself into my mind.

"We have no control over anything before us but there's nothing after us, okay?"

Nodding my head as though I fully understand, he relaxes and tries to jump up.He nearly crushes me as I wrap my legs around his thighs and pull him forward. I wanted to make him feel good and I didn't get the chance with the whole he-had-to-kill-his-father thing. Now is my chance and I push against his chest so he's on his back. Straddling his hips, I move down his body, but I'm stopped with a hand on my nape when my feet touch the floor. He holds my jaw with the other as I look up and asks the same thing he always does.

"What do you do if you want to stop, lisichka?"

That confirmation always makes it better, it's the opposite of sexual when he's asking me to stop but my mind and body don't react that way.

"I tell you."

My voice is stronger, and I smile up at him, waiting to be allowed to move.He pulls me up so we're both standing and seals our lips together without letting go of my neck.

"Everything off," Dima mumbles against my lips.

I quickly strip out of my clothes, eager to see his pleasure, and he holds my waist, positioning me on the bed so I'm on my hands and knees facing him. I understand why people go to strip clubs when he does the same. It's not done in an artful way, but his muscles ripple and I'm impatiently waiting for his belt to be undone.

I got one taste, and his control didn't snap, he managed to pull himself away when I always end up in a puddle, it's not fair if it's only me that's resorted to that. He smirks as he slowly undoes his belt and zipper, but I give up on trying to be patient and grab the waistband, pulling him closer. It's an intimate act, one that shows my trust and he's the only person I would give control of my air to. His dick springs free as I push the rest of his clothes away and I look up, watching him as I wrap my lips around the tip.

His taste floods my mouth, sweet with a hint of sourness and I moan around him. It's not fake. I've given Dima control but he's staring down at me as though I'm the one with the power. Not just of his release but more. Gently tracing my jaw, he cups the back of my head without any forceful pressure.

"Keep those pretty eyes on me."

I nod and take more of him into my mouth, and he groans.His abs flex in a wave and the groan gets deeper as I hollow my cheeks.

My cheeks lift at the sound. It's animalistic, a basic need that goes beyond his patience.

"You're only on the tip and I could come, what have you done to me, lisichka?"

Pushing my head down further, I turn my face side to side, ignoring my gag reflex as I try to take all of him. He doesn't let me, and he squeezes my nape, pulling me away. It's not because he doesn't like it with the wildness in his eyes, he's still being caring.

Shuffling my knees back so I can get the right angle to go lower, a deep rumble fills the room. Dima twitches in my mouth and I wrap my fingers around his length as I let him go with a wet pop. He combs my hair off my face and holds it loosely at my nape before his other hand massages down my spine. His eyes are flickering all over my face, my body, anywhere, like they can't find a position to stay fixed to as I press wet open-mouth kisses to his length and work my way down to his balls.

He palms my ass, his voice rough with lust as he says, "Spread those pretty legs for me."

I do it automatically and my back arches at the feeling of his fingers tracing my pussy.I softly wrap my lips around his balls as I trace the seam with my tongue. They're only in my mouth for a second when he steps back, and I can't mourn the loss as he lays beside me and picks me up. He's moving too fast and when I realize what he's doing I push forward. He tugs on my body while I try to scramble away and turn.

"Sit on my fucking face, B," he groans.

His control is being pulled. Good.

Grabbing the sheets beside his hips, I pull myself forward and manage to get free. I'm kneeling between his thighs before I can be stopped and quickly take his dick back into my mouth. Rolling my tongue against the tip has him clenching and his head is pressed into the sheets, taking the twin moons out of view. It doesn't mean anything because he knows it's me and his hand cups my cheek.

"Fuuuuucccckkk."

I've never heard a curse so beautiful.

There's no training, only Dima's encouragement powering my movements, and he combs his fingers through the hair at my temples, keeping it out of my face. He slowly sits up and strokes along my brow bone with his thumbs as he softly begs, "Sit on my face, let me taste you."

Shaking my head, I roll his balls in my hand and stroke his length with the other as I rush out, "No, I'll be distracted."

The low curse comes again, and he tenses his thighs, trying to stop his hips from thrusting. I don't have any fear over what will happen and give him permission.

"Do it, I trust you."

I flick the tip of his dick with my tongue before letting it rest flat against it. He won't hurt me, and we both want him to take control. Leaning down, he kisses my crown and instructs, "Hands on my ankles, lisichka, squeeze twice if you want me to stop."

He presses his lips to my hair again as I wrap my fingers around his ankles, and he finally moves.He doesn't pull my hair; his fingers are pressed against my scalp, and he holds my head in place as he thrusts into my mouth.

"My beautiful woman,"

Moans and gags fill the room.

"Strong as fuck." His eyes don't leave mine. "Trusting me."

Shuffling so my ass touches my heels, I squeeze my thighs together and tilt my head back as he stands.

The power in his voice telling me I'm strong has me wanting more. I want to prove I'm stronger than the filing cabinet and push my head against his fingers, silently telling him it's okay. He's my lock, he stops everything else, a protector, and he safeguards everything important. When he pushes into my throat, tears spring to my eyes but they're cleansing not painful.

He groans again as I swallow around him and then I'm pulled away. He keeps doing this. Building me up with my release or his own then ripping it away. His hands drop to my biceps, and I dig my fingers into his ankles, refusing to get up. The stubborn shithead tickles my side, making me loosen and I'm hauled up with a protest as I force my body to go limp. He counteracts it and grabs my legs so I can't fall before laying me on the bed.

Standing over me, he widens my thighs and presses one to the mattress while I make no attempt to hide my frustration. Trying to close my legs so he knows what it feels like, he grips my thighs, keeping them open.

"Use your words, lisichka."

His stupid soft voice is messing with my right to be annoyed. Crossing one arm over my chest, I cover between my thighs with the other, and his lips twitch at my whining. "You keep stopping me."

There's no resistance in my limbs as he threads our fingers together and slowly lifts them above my head, like a predator toying with their prey. His lips ghost over mine and his voice has the same slow quality as he says, "Because I love seeing you come, eating you out, tasting what I do to you." He doesn't let our lips touch despite me chasing them. "Feeling you tighten around my fingers, my dick." His nose brushes mine. "Hear how you moan my name, and your thighs shake." No thoughts are in my head. "Watching your beautiful face reach that point where you look at me like I'm the only thing that exists. Now be my good fucking human and let me look after my perfect pussy."

His lips are on mine and there's nothing slow or teasing about the kiss as I push our chests together and moan into his mouth.