“What the fuck is wrong with you?” I snap. “Should I show you all of the people you’ve killed? Except, instead of writing an article, you gave an order or you held the gun.”
“You can go right ahead,” he says. “I have no regrets about killing those people. I’d kill them again. Like I told you that day I showed you the Bratva’s operations, I don’t hurt the innocent. I only kill people who deserve it. So you can dig up every one of their graves and I’ll piss on every one of their corpses.” He stares at me so intensely that I look away.
“But you did it. You killed them. You’ve got blood on your hands.”
“Are you wearing a wire?” he demands. “Did the police send you to get a confession out of me? Is that why you’re bringing this up?”
“What?” I blurt. He grabs at the front of my dress, yanking it down. There’s a sound of ripping and the dress goes slack. The dress is strapless, so I didn’t wear a bra with it. It’s abundantly clear there is no wire hidden underneath. I shove him and press the dress back up. “Have you lost your fucking mind?”
My hand remains against his chest. We stare at each other, his eyes reflecting grief and greed.
When he kisses me, it’s not soft or romantic. It’s pressure and urgency. His hands move under my arms, grabbing onto my ribs, and he pulls me closer. I slide over the center console and onto his seat. I adjust my legs, settling them on either side of his lap. Our mouths continue to clash, the heat billowing between us.
I hike the skirt of my dress up as he unbuckles his belt and pulls down his pants. I reach down between us, taking his thick cock in my hand. I place the head of his cock at my entrance, starting to slowly sink onto him. He bucks his hips upward, driving himself halfway into me. He doesn’t wait for a reaction, his hands gripping onto my hips as he thrusts into me again.
The shock of pain sends all my focus to our bodies. Anything else could have happened today, but now there is just us.
His grip tightens on my hips as he starts bouncing me on his cock. The top of my dress has fallen away and when we kiss, he moves his hands up to my breasts, pinching my nipples into firm nubs before his mouth settles over my left breast. His tongue teases my nipple, sending a new shock of pleasure.
His hands return to my hips, coaxing me faster. It feels so much like when we first met, but it’s so much more at the same time. The actions feel similar, but the undercurrent below it is full of burbling emotions.
He pulls away from me as his hand moves past the torn section of the dress, up my spine to my hair. He grasps onto it, pulling my head back. My back arches to compensate, inducing a new pleasure as my clit skims against his lower abdomen. I try to lean closer against him. He plants his hands against my hips, holding me down hard enough that all I can do is squirm. It’s the worst kind of torment.
We look straight at each other. I can almost see how we loved each other before—with that belief that we’d somehow made it through the war—but I also see a new kind of love there. It’s desperate and it’s furious, but it’s still love.
I rotate my hips slowly, making small circles while his cock is filling me. He lets out a low groan. His hands move over my bare skin as if he’s trying to memorize the shape of my body. His hand grazes over my neck and up to my mouth. His thumb brushes against my bottom lip.
“What the fuck have you done to me?” he murmurs. His hands move up to my hair, grasping onto it tightly before pulling me in for a kiss. I melt into it, the sweetness and savagery of this moment making me attentive to every small change between us.
But it still takes me by surprise when he grips onto my ass, jolting me with a crude rhythm. His fingernails press into my flesh as he jolts me up and down his cock. His heavy breathing and my small moans fill my ears.
The orgasm hits me without warning. My head jerks back as pleasure shatters through me. It must strike right through to Maksim as my pussy throbs violently against his cock. He lets out a mixture of a groan and a growl as he comes inside me.
I slump against him, still breathing hard. After a couple of minutes pass, he wraps his arms around my waist. Our breathing is the only sound for another minute. Then, silence.
I close my eyes as the earlier events of the night come back to me. When I open them back up, Maksim is looking out his side window, but his grip around me is still tight enough that I know I haven’t completely lost him. At least, I haven’t lost him in this moment.
“Do you love me?” I ask, the question too heavy to keep carrying. He turns his head to look at me. He looks at me like he’s committing me to memory.
“You need to get out of the city,” he says. “And never come back.”
“That’s not an answer,” I say.
“You’re now legally mine,” he says, his voice taking on the same condescending tone he uses with some of his soldiers. The ones that are dead. He drops his hands away from my waist. “I don’t need you to physically be here anymore. I have proof now to dangle in front of your father. He will be able to check and see that we are married and that you belong to me.”
He grabs onto my hips, roughly pulling me
