Vicious Justice

by Tobi Doyle

  A strangled moan escaped. My hips canted up, searching for more of him, needing more to relieve the pressure that built. I slid my hands over his shoulders, down his arms, and tilted my chin, found his lips, and kissed.

  My. Husband.

  His breathing was harsh as he broke away. He watched his hand, his mouth opened and he panted. Desperate. For. Me.

  His thumb rocked against my clit. My body splintered in pleasure. Perfect pressure, perfect petting, over and over. The coil tightened in my gut. I shuddered against him. Completely vulnerable. Completely naked. Safe. I pushed his hair away from his face, grabbed his shoulders, pulled him closer, desperate to cure the ache between my legs.

  Alyosha pushed my thighs open, and then stilled. “You make me forget condom.” He launched off the bed, and opened the bedside table drawer.

  I leaned on my elbows. “Please tell me you have latex-free.”

  “I bought out the fucking store. You have preference?” He tossed three boxes of condoms on the bed.

  I eyed the size of little Thor, standing proud, erect, and angry red, and pointed to the black box. Scrambling to my knees, I pushed the grey box off the bed. “Too small.” I ripped open a box, breathless, impatient, inhibitions gone.

  He took the black box from me and tore off a condom wrapper. His hands trembled.

  I reached for the condom, and teased it over his crown. He was so hard under my grip, his thighs twitched when I rolled the condom over his cock. I cupped his balls and laughed when he groaned.

  Alyosha pushed me on my back, gripped my thighs, and slid in breeching my tightness. He groaned, his head arched back in pleasure.

  The glorious feeling, ensconced in his strength, intoxicated by his presence, overwhelmed me. I wrapped my legs around his thighs, encouraging him to move.

  But he hesitated.

  I dragged my nails over his back.

  He kissed, slow sips, drugging me into submission, calming my impatience. Cherishing me.

  Savoring. Seducing.

  The exquisite moment where I realized everything had changed for me, I was making love to my husband. Love. Intense pleasure buzzed through my body. I reveled in the sensation of his body covering mine, our breaths mixed, being one with him. A moment of panic, fear that he had changed me, he was more than I could survive, flittered through my mind.

  His breathing slowed. His brown eyes were now completely golden, and his face relaxed. His hips rocked, his cock retreated and then slid in, filling me, sending a delicious thrill that skated over my nerves. He focused on me.

  “Is better than I dreamed.” He kissed me, small, gentle, brushing my lips, like silk.

  My hands skimmed over his back, exploring each line, bone, scar, memorizing them. His muscles bunched and relaxed under my touch.

  He feathered kisses over my cheek, taking his time, hips gliding, grinding, giving pleasure. His hands caressed my body, heating up every inch of my skin. The composed man was back—apparently being buried inside me calmed him—something to remember for later.

  He sighed, the sound filled with longing. He pushed against me, torturing me with his gentle movements.

  I ached for him. My fingers tangled into his hair and I pleaded, “Alyosha, please. I need more.”

  A dangerous smile cross his face. “You think I tease you? You try my patience, curled up against me last night, but not mine. Now, you are mine.”

  “And you are mine.”

  “Yes.” His admission, his guttural response, was honest and hot.

  He rolled us over, and sat up.

  I straddled his thighs, stretched tight over his large body, and lowered myself onto him. My breath caught in my throat, a fierce sense of rightness, of possessiveness, snaked around my brain, and I kissed him.

  His arms encircled my back. Strong, hard muscles that promised to protect me.

  Would they protect me from losing myself like my mother had?

  I held his shoulders, gripped his soft skin, heated and powerful played under my hands.

  “I like this.” His whispered words caressed my ears. His fingers stroked my back and combed through my tresses. “I love your hair; how it is different every day. Is soft, like silk.” His nose nuzzled my neck, and he kissed and nipped and I wanted him to lose himself in me.

  He rocked against me, his body hitting spots that made me tighten. I moaned, needing more.

  He threw his head back and groaned. “I knew it would be good. You make it hard for me to think of anything but you.”

  His admission stunned me. And pleased me. I grinned, leaned in and bit his lip.

  His hands moved to my hips, guiding my movements, driving me toward my orgasm. He kissed me fiercely, moving his lips across my jaw, to the side of my neck and he bit; hips thrusting hard.

  My body coiled tighter, and I detonated. White hot, explosive, my body convulsed and waves of pleasure overwhelmed me.

  His teeth released my skin, and he grabbed one hip and my shoulder and held me as he controlled my body, giving himself over to his own pleasure. Gentle kisses peppered my neck, and soothed the skin where he bit, all while he murmured Russian.

  I was boneless. Satiated. Complete. “You marked me.”

  “You marked me first.” His husky voice held recrimination.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  He looked at me, raising an eyebrow but refusing to explain.

  Would continue to have secrets, no matter how intimate we were?

  He walked to the bathroom, confident and graceful, and returned with a washcloth.

  “Are you on birth control?” His accent stilted the vowels.

  I nodded in answer to his abrupt question.

  His eyes screwed shut as if in pain. “Next time, no condom. We are married. Exclusive.”

  I’d never trusted anyone enough to not use a condom. But he stood before me, naked, and it felt right.

  My eyes feasted on the graphic tattoos in front of me. The story of my avenging angel was inked across his chest, on his arms and hands. Saints, devils, stars, skulls. So many symbols that I knew nothing about.

  He smiled. “You have questions about my tattoos, but do not ask tonight.”

  I pulled back the covers and patted beside me. “Okay. But expect to give me every detail tomorrow.”

  “Will you always be this easy?”

  I wrinkled my nose at him. “I’m not sure what you’re asking but I’m pretty sure the answer is yes.”

  He chuckled as he climbed into bed, pulled me close to him and kissed the top of my head. “I thank you for not asking questions tonight, Adrianna.” His thumb brushed across a sore spot on my neck. “You are mine.”

  “I’d rather not be covered in bites.” I tugged on his hair.

  “I lost control. You make me do that. It is why I haven’t allowed myself—”

  “So, it’s my fault.” I teased.

  He grinned, kissed my nose and sighed, the sound of a content man. “Yes. See, you make marriage easy.”

  I laughed and snuggled closer, spooned against him. Naked Thor was a cuddler. His heavy arm kept me tucked against him.

  I relaxed and sighed, feeling safe in his arms. Tomorrow I would ask about Dima, and where he fit in my husband’s life. I’d ask him if he thought the Bratva had bought Herndon. But that was for tomorrow.

  Chapter Twenty

  Adrianna fidgeted in her sleep. Her ass twitched and cradled my cock all night, keeping me in a constant state of arousal. I felt like a child on Christmas morning, waiting for her to wake up so we could celebrate. I should make coffee. I should leave the Prius keys and a note for Elena on the kitchen counter. I should call Dima. But I couldn’t leave my wife.

  Her body was made for me. Soft, warm, welcoming, sweet, generous, everything I wanted. And now, with the morning light streaming in, I wanted to make love in our bedroom. I wanted to see her dark hair, a rich brown, almost black, spread against my sheets. I wanted to learn every part of her. Make her addic
ted to me.

  My phone chirped from the pile of clothes on the floor. I rolled away from Adrianna.

  She sat, pulling up the sheets to cover her nakedness. A shy smile crossed her face.

  I leaned down and kissed her, grabbed a fistful of her hair and turned her towards my mouth. Taking the kiss. “Good morning. I’ll start coffee.”

  “Thank you.” She nibbled on her bottom lip and tightened her grip on the sheet.

  I fished the phone out of my pants pocket and answered. “This better be good.”

  “Are you married?” Dima sounded annoyed.

  I opened our bedroom door but Adrianna hissed.

  “Pants. Elena’s still here.” Her wild eyes and swollen lips made me want to drop everything and crawl back to bed.

  Dima chuffed in my ear. “Well?”

  “Just a minute.” I yanked on my pants, kissed Adrianna again, and then went to make coffee. “Yes,” I said to Dima.

  “Jesus, Alyosha, fucking tell me what happened last night.”

  My gut tightened. “Did something happen?”

  “I’ve been waiting for your call. What the fuck?” Dima growled.

  Elena poked her head around the corner. My phone seemed to crackle with Dima’s growing impatience. And my naked wife was in my bed.

  Fuck. Too many responsibilities. I prioritized. There was nothing that would change between now and tonight and I wanted Adrianna’s permission to tell Dima everything.

  “I’m married. Everything is good. We’ll talk later.” I ended the call. “Coffee is in here.” I showed Elena and started a pot to brew. “The Prius is in spot C8. The spare key is hanging in the hall closet. Don’t forget your card key.”

  “Eager, Thor?” Elena’s smile irritated me.

  I did not appreciate her insinuation. “Do not disrespect your sister or me.” I leveled a I-will-hurt-you glare.

  She rolled her eyes, perhaps she was too naive to understand my threat. “I’m leaving now. Thanks for the loaner. I’ll text Adri if I come here, but I’m probably going to Suzanne’s.” She hiked her backpack over her shoulder.

  “Good idea.” I should have said more, been polite. But Adrianna was in my bed. I stalked to my bedroom and the empty bed. I closed and locked our bedroom door, put my phone on silent, and plugged it in to charge.

  Adrianna emerged from the bathroom, pink-faced and wearing my shirt.

  “Take it off.” I growled, dropped my pants and waited for her to come to me.

  “This?” She smiled and played with the edges of the shirt. “Did you want it back?”

  “I want you naked.” I reached for her.

  She stepped closer, but held the edges of my shirt together. But she was smiling. A saucy smile. The smile of a woman who knew how to have fun. Who wanted to have fun.

  I slid the shirt off her shoulders, and pushed her onto the bed. She reached forward, but her arms were restrained by the sleeves, and her weight.

  Her eyes widened. “Not fair.” She licked her bottom lip. “You really do look like a god.”

  She made me feel like a god. She arched, an invitation to suck her nipples. Soft as silk against my tongue, her nipple hardened and I bit. She rewarded me with a pleased squeal. Her thighs opened, and I kissed the skin between her breasts. Warm and fragrant, she smelled like vanilla. Her belly button was sensitive to kisses, and I loved the way she shivered when I bit the skin over her hip. I was so fucking hard. My cock wept with the thought of taking her.

  Bare.

  I’d never… and I felt the same excitement as a virgin.

  But first, I would taste her. I pulled her ass to the side of the bed and knelt. She looked like goddess, tanned skin, long hair, mussed and so fucking sexy.

  “You are beautiful, kotyonok.”

  She blushed, the color rising in her cheeks and I promised myself to praise her more often.

  I wanted to taste her, devour her, know every inch of her. Her dewy lips welcomed me. I nudged them aside with my tongue. Her taste exploded on my tongue, and my balls tightened. I gripped my cock, and strangled the impending orgasm into submission.

  Adrianna whimpered and rocked against my face.

  I loved that she would take what she wanted from me.

  She wriggled closer. She reached for my hair but the shirt held her arms. She fell back on the bed. “Please,” she whispered.

  I teased her clit, drunk on the scent of her arousal, and slid two fingers into her wet heat.

  She watched me, mouth open, her breaths fast and uneven. She trembled against my mouth. Her clit was hard, her thighs trembled, making my cock harder, and she fell back on the bed again.

  “Please, right there.” Her breathy command was erotic as hell.

  My fingers found a rhythm that made Adrianna tremble more. Her sounds drove me insane with the desire to give her more. My pulse throbbed and each sound she made. Her thighs tightened around my head and she ground herself on my face. She cried out, and pulsed around my fingers, sucking them into her. Her sounds were exquisite, a sound I’d never want to share. Moments later, she wriggled out of the shirt and reached for me.

  I slid over her, feeling god-like that I’d put that euphoric expression in her heavy-lidded eyes. She was perfect under me, her soft curves cushioning me. I thrust deep and her mouth opened, a sweet moan that went straight to my balls and squeezed. She was slick, hot, and bare on my cock. Nothing between us. Nothing should ever be between us. I would have to tell her everything, about Dima, about my past, about what may come. Would she leave Elena behind for me?

  She whispered my name.

  I shut my eyes, thought about the upcoming property taxes due, but her scent invaded me, her walls clasped my cock. My naked cock.

  Fuck.

  She finger-combed my hair, her nails scratching the scalp. She took my mouth, licking her taste off my lips.

  I wrapped her leg around my waist. “I will never be close enough.” I slid out and in, slow, taunting myself, holding back. I leaned my forehead against hers. I wanted to consume her. It didn’t matter what brought her to me, she was now mine. “You are my wife.” I stilled over her.

  “Yes. You are my husband.”

  I was fucking insane. Possessive and crazy. I kissed her, took her, wanted to brand her.

  She held my shoulders, her legs clinging to my waist, and met my thrusts.

  I would give her my body, my heart, everything.

  She kissed my jaw, her soft lips against my stubble, soothing the insanity burning in my blood. She pressed open mouth kisses down my jawline to the hollow of my neck. Her teeth grazed the skin and I grabbed her hips, moved deeper, harder.

  “Yes,” she whispered. Her pussy clasped my cock.

  The tension built, a buzz in my brain. I waited for her, waited until I was on the edge of sanity and bliss before I released, and she followed me over.

  My name tumbled from her mouth, and I savored the sound. I had the overwhelming sensation that something more had happened. Something more like love.

  We were connected. We were married.

  My body rested on hers, heavy and sweaty, and I sucked in huge gulps of air. I rolled us to our sides.

  She clung to me, looking intoxicated. Her eyes lowered, and she traced the large tattoo on my chest.

  “That is St. Nonnatus. Patron saint of children,” I said.

  Her hand splayed on my chest, the warmth and weight a comfort. “Why did you get it?”

  I rolled over and covered my eyes with my arm. “That is an ugly story.” I didn’t want to tell her.

  She scooted closer, laying half on me. “Hey, when you’ve been married as long as we have, there’s no secrets.” A smile played at her lips.

  “I hope you mean that, kotyonok.” Please.

  A shadow passed over her eyes, but she nodded.

  I brushed her hair behind her ear and stroked down her arm. “Almost eleven years ago, Dima, Vanya, and I joined Spetsnatz.” I cocked my head to see her face. “It’s
Russian special forces.”

  She kissed my chest, sweet, gentle. She was my comfort. It was wrong to burden her with this memory.

  “Terrorists took over a local school during a pageant. Almost the entire village was in the auditorium.” My stomach twisted, acid churned, burning, stoking my anger at the politics of my past. “The Russian government refused to negotiate with terrorists. We were ordered to release sleeping gas grenades from the rocket launchers.” I released my grip on her arm.

  She rested her head on my chest, and hugged me. “They lied to you.” She knew.

  “Yes. They were regular grenades. The fire was awful. We tried to rescue as many as we could, but almost two hundred people died. Sixty were children from the school.” I would never cleanse my soul.

  “I’m so sorry.” She scooted up and kissed my eyes, my cheeks, my nose, and settled herself on me. “They lied to you.”

  “It opened my eyes. I was young, and thought Spetsnatz was this premier group, saving people. The older guys, they didn’t fucking care.”

  She flinched.

  I ran my hand over her body, caressing her warm skin that pebbled under my touch. I grabbed the comforter and pulled it over us.

  “They had seen it before. It numbs you or it makes you crazy.” But I was stuck, already part of Spetsnatz and couldn’t leave. I kissed the top of her head. “I put the things we did that we knew were wrong on my body, to remember, because it hurt, and to warn. I am no gentleman. I am not afraid of violence. I am not broken, but I am not right.”

  “I’m sorry.” Her sad voice was like a thick blanket of understanding.

  “Thank you, kotyonok.”

  “Do all your tattoos remind you of something sad?” She cuddled closer to me.

  “No. Before I left, I got the Madonna and child tattoo on my back, to keep my mother with me.” I kissed the top of her head and remembered my mother’s anger over marking my skin. “She hated the tattoo and wanted me to promise to never get another.”