Dmitri shrugs, making even that look elegant. "True leadership means never hesitating to do the dirty work yourself. You must lead by example, or lose the respect of your men."
My fingers reach out without any conscious thought, stroking the smooth lines of his biceps and shoulders. "Did you ever want to do anything else?"
"That was never a thought or a consideration," he says without hesitation. "This is who I am."
"If this wasn't who you were, is there something else you would've chosen?"
He gives a cynical half smile. "I would have chosen not to lead."
"Really?" I ask. "That's hard to picture for a man who's so comfortable giving orders."
"When my orders could lead to my people's deaths, I would choose not to have to make them. But that's cowardice." His fingers run through my hair, examining the strands. "Like my father, I will make decisions that are always in the best interests of our family and the Bratva. But that doesn't mean I won't lay awake at night questioning if there had been another way."
It's so quiet here, only the faint crackle of the fire, even the traffic outside muted to a faint buzz.
"Will you do that tonight?" I ask.
"What do you mean?"
"Will you lie awake tonight, questioning your choices about us? This marriage?"
His hand slides up my back, pulling my zipper down slowly, the warm line of his fingers brushing against my skin. "No," he says huskily. "I will never question anything having to do with you and me."
"You smooth bastard," I blurt. He laughs before bending his head and kissing me, kissing me hard enough that when his arm slides around my back and lifts me up, my shoes drop off my suddenly limp feet. Even though I know this is madness and we've only known each other for a few months and he's doing it to keep me alive, I don't think I'll ever regret it either.
For however long it lasts.
***
The firelight plays over his skin, making the dragon on his arm coil as he moves inside me. I thought somehow taking him would get easier, but each time, like the first time, his cock is thick and stinging. It confuses me that I could be aroused from such a burn but it's all part of it; the heat he stokes inside me, the feel of his shaft pushing against every soft and sensitive inch.
I'msofull. Filled to bursting and each time he thrusts it seems to push a bit more air out of my lungs until I'm breathless and moaning.
"Chertovski krasivo, moya soroka.So fucking beautiful, my magpie."
Dmitri growls, his hand wraps in my hair, coiling it around his fist and he pulls my head back so he can kiss down my neck. "Sinking inside you deep, it feels…" His head tilts back, the tendons in his neck straining. "It's fucking sweet. So tight, the heat of you wrapping around my cock. So good for me."
I kiss his Adam's apple, his shoulder. When he thrusts especially hard, I shriek and bite his bicep. He laughs breathlessly, pulling out and flipping me over facedown, putting a pillow under me before pushing back inside.
"You belong to me, don't you, little magpie? Every perfect inch of you." He runs his tongue up my neck, tasting my sweat and I groan, balancing on one hand while the other flails up behind his neck, gripping him, holding on for dear life. "You're mine," he rasps in my ear. "Say it."
It's not real, this mansion, this life. This perfect man. But I can pretend tonight that this dream can last. "Y- yes," I manage. "Yours."
He wraps an arm across my chest, slamming into me harder, murmuring words in Russian, his voice dark and raspy. Going back on his heels, he pulls me with him, tilting my head to look down at where we're joined. His fingers spread my swollen lips wide and I see his cock plunge inside me, thick and glistening. A huge swell of need hits me and I clamp down tight, wanting to keep him inside me, for this moment to hold still, crystalline and suspended, giving me a chance to slow down and feel it all.
When the heel of his hand rubs hard on my clitoris, I shriek helplessly, arching my hips as he holds me still, filling me with heat and his low, broken groan sends me crashing into an orgasm, too.
Chapter Thirty-Two
In which we find… well, shit.
Ava…
It doesn't hit me until I see a bit of blood in my underwear.
"Oh, good," I say sourly, "another one of my spotty periods." Surely they have feminine hygiene supplies here. My periods are so irregular that I didn't think to bring any. Dmitri's already gone for another interminable round of meetings, so I'm on my own here.
I search through the four bathrooms in this wing of the almost offensively enormous Morozov mansion, then give up. I don't feel comfortable chasing down one of the maids or Magda, the housekeeper, asking if they have an extra tampon in their purse.
