Love Interrupted

by Matilda Martel

  No, that’s bullshit. I’m in the mob. Sometime in the next sixty years, if we live that long, I’m sure she’ll regret marrying me.

  For the love of God, Charlotte! Please take me back. I can’t live without you!

  Bingo. Why hide my desperation? It’s written all over my red, sweaty face.

  I ring the doorbell. Just once. I don’t want to scare her. Two minutes pass and I see no movement from inside. I try knocking. Just two knocks. She’s all alone. Anything over two may sound overbearing and make her nervous.

  She’s inside. I know she’s inside. I haven’t taken my eyes off the front door since she arrived and unless she’s wandering around the alley behind the house, she’s hidden somewhere within.

  That’s the obvious answer. She’s hiding. She knows it’s me. Ten minutes after she read a card that says, Happy Anniversary, on flowers hand-delivered to her front door, she must be expecting me.

  This is a kiss-off. Her way of telling me to go away.

  I panic and knock again. My stomach tightens into knots and my heart pounds so hard it feels like it’s punching my sternum. Sweat drips from every pore. I’m a mess, but I knock again.

  You can’t do this, baby. Please answer.

  “I’m coming.” I hear a sing song voice come from upstairs. She wasn’t avoiding me. She was upstairs.

  I step back and wipe my face with my sleeve. It’s forty degrees and I’m sweating like a pig. When I look back, I see a pair of green eyes peek through the glass then slowly retreat from view. I step closer, expecting her to answer, but seconds pass. Fuck. She’s thinking about it.

  “Charlotte?” I speak through the door. I know she can hear me. “Please answer. I know you know everything. I want to tell you more.”

  I hear the bolt click before half the French door swings open. Charlotte’s tear-stained face greets me.

  “Charlotte...” My knees weaken but I take a step forward. I’m desperate to touch her.

  “Leave, Igor. Now!” The custom-built mahogany door I specially ordered from a master craftsman in Montreal, barrels straight into my face.

  Baby…

  Eleven

  Charlotte

  While I was alone in London, trapped in a dinky fourth-floor apartment with no elevator and a terrible heating system, unable to work or socialize, my only retreat was reading.

  I went through phases. Romance soured fast. I didn’t need to read about heroes that weren’t nearly as handsome or hot as the man I’d left behind. And I didn’t want to read about happily ever afters when I’d been kicked in the teeth after three magnificent days of bliss. The only escape I wanted or needed was on a plane to New York.

  Next, I discovered historical fiction, but those books are huge, and my attention lacked the discipline to complete anything I started. Then I discovered self-help books. They struck a nerve. I needed help. Every day away from Iggy was nothing less than torture and since I was too terrified to vent possible criminal activity to a therapist, self-help was my only avenue to good mental health.

  I devoured book after book. Some sucked. Some were anecdotal and poetic. I didn’t like those. Most helped but all stuck in my brain in some shape or form.

  Seconds ago, staring into Igor’s crystal blue eyes, gazing at his sweaty face, beet red with anxiety and flushed with terror, I made a decision about my future.

  I love him. I know it’s dangerous. I know he has a lot to answer for. This might get hard. It might feel impossible at times and I’m certain I’ll pray every night that real federal agents don’t break down our door and haul the love of my life to prison---but I know in my heart, I can’t live without him.

  I tried it. Even after they fed me all that false information, I still chose to protect him. My heart waited for him. I never once sought another man, another life, or another love.

  Igor Ivanov is my home. My forever home.

  But just to make sure, I’ve set him free. I bookmarked that clichéd phrase in one of my first self-help books. I’ve set him free. If he returns, he’s mine. If he doesn’t. He never was. It’s corny but I need it for my peace of mind.

  With hope in my heart, I watch him descend the steps and stop when he reaches the sidewalk. He looks around, runs a shaky hand through his sweat-soaked hair and then scratches his five o’clock shadow. After a few seconds, he turns and glares at my door. A look of anger replaces his sad expression. For a second, our eyes lock. He knows I’m watching him. His brows crease. His gorgeous lips curl in a defiant scowl and he runs up the stairs to give me hell.

  That’s my sign. I don’t need any judgement. I’m not applying for martyrdom. This is enough.

  I throw open the door. “Iggy!” With tears in my eyes, I bound towards him and jump into his arms.

  He doesn’t hesitate. He catches me, wraps my legs high around his waist and carries me inside. “Malishka, you scared the shit out of me. I love you so much. So much baby. So much it hurts.” His lips sear to mine in a vicious kiss that steals the air out of my lungs and saves me with his breath. Every kiss heals my heart. Each word mends my soul from the anguish of unrequited love.

  But I need more. I need it all.

  “Iggy, I love you. I never stopped. Never ever. How did this happen? Why?!” I don’t stop for an answer. I want his lips. His tongue. I want to be devoured, stripped, conquered and claimed. And I want it now.

  He shakes his head as he carries us upstairs. “I’m so sorry, my love. This is my fault. I should have told you the truth about my family, my uncle’s expectations and how hard he was making it for me to stay out. I was scared it would frighten you away, but I lost you anyway. I’m so sorry I lost you. I promise I looked for you. Even when I thought you’d never forgive me, I was desperate to find you.”

  With my lips on his neck, I lick and bite his sweaty, salty skin and inhale the musky scent that’s haunted me for years. The feel of his hard chest, even bigger than before, makes me crazy with lust. Desperation and desire consume me. My inhibitions flee. I unzip his pants and tug at his clothes like they’ve just caught fire. I want to see him. Touch him. I want to feel his chest on mine and curl into his naked arms. I want nothing between us.

  “Where’s your bed?” He halts and pins my back against the wall.

  I shake my head. “It’s being delivered in half an hour. Do you want to wait?”

  He frowns. “No. We’re not waiting.” He drops my legs, spins me around and places my hands on the wall above my head.

  Standing behind me, he whispers. “I’m sorry, doll. I can’t wait.”

  I yelp when he reaches for the elastic bands of my leggings and panties, then yanks them down to the floor. Before I can protest, my blouse goes over my head and he unlatches my bra and sets it free. His gaze catches mine. Our lips meet in a smoldering kiss while his hands spread my legs and explore.

  “Iggy...” I breathe his name and shudder with every touch.

  “Have you been with anyone else, Charlotte?” His hand smooths down the curve of my ass and slides into my slick folds. I’m drenched. Undeniably soaked.

  “No.” I whimper. My legs shake and threaten to buckle.

  “Good girl.” He drops his boxers and leans into me. Kissing my neck and shoulders, he slowly runs the head of his massive shaft down the line of my ass. “This cock’s ached for you every fucking night.”

  Dear lord, it’s coming.

  “Have you been...” I fear asking, but I want to know. It doesn’t matter, but I want to know.

  He growls into my ear. “Never. I’m a married man. I haven’t been with anyone since you. I never signed those annulment papers, baby. I don’t care what the courts say. You never stopped being my wife.”

  My lips quivers. “I never signed any papers. My mother forged them. I didn’t even know about the annulment until I was in London.”

  “Then we’re still married, baby. You’re still mine.” He crashes his lips to mine and fills my mouth with his tongue. While our lips catch fire, his fin
gers work their magic. Long strokes turn into quick flicks that harden my clit in his hand. Lazy circles weaken my knees. When his fingers stab deep inside me, I spread my legs wider and beg for his cock.

  “Igor, it’s been so long. Please.” I cry out and shamelessly shove my ass into his hips.

  “It’s coming, baby. But first you’re coming.”

  Twelve

  Igor

  This is the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen. I could go blind staring too long or too hard. My gorgeous doll, my wife, is naked from head to toe. Every sumptuous curve and valley is on full display. Her hands sit high on the wall like she’s under arrest and her legs are spread wide like she’s waiting to be frisked. Sweet nectar drips down her thighs and she’s begging for me to take her hard.

  And I will. Good lord, I will.

  But not before I relive one of my top three Charlotte fantasies from our honeymoon.

  Delivery men are on their way, I’ve got no time to lose. I drop to my knees, spread her legs wider and sink my face into her pussy. She screams. At first, it’s surprise, but moments later my lips latch onto her clit and her trembling legs start to give out.

  “Iggy! You know this is hard.” She gasps as she howls.

  “I’ve waited four long years to taste you again. I’m going to eat you alive, little girl.” My tongue assails her clit, petting and stroking while she claws the wall and bounces on the balls of her feet. When she reaches the edge of ecstasy, she wails for mercy.

  “Baby, I can’t come like this! You know I can’t! Not while I’m standing.” Her whimpers grow louder, but I don’t give in. While my fingers stroke, my tongue explores and stabs her passage, drowning me in sticky juices that slide down my chin. Raw pleasure grips her limbs. Every muscle tenses, but she can’t let go.

  “Iggy!” She cries with frustration and I can’t take another plea.

  Reaching up, I grab her waist and pull her down to the floor. “Is this what you want?” I hold my cock in my hand and run it through her slit.

  She nods. “Yes, please!”

  Overcome with love and lust, I throw one leg over my elbow, spread her thighs and sink into heaven. She shrieks from my first thrust but grinds her hips up, taking me in and welcoming me into her tight pussy. I cover her with my body, crash my lips to her, kissing, licking, teasing her skin while my cock melds us into one being.

  “Baby...I’ll keep you safe. But I can’t lose you again.” I gaze into those green eyes that slay my heart and clasp her hands over her head.

  She nods and raises her hips to meet mine. Bucking wildly, she takes each thrust, urging me on, writhing as the tension builds into a wall on the verge of collapse. “I love you, Iggy. I can’t live without you anymore.” She whines as her eyes fill with tears and her body trembles with a rising tide.

  I thrust harder, push her knees to her shoulders and plunge deep, rutting like an animal that’s finally found its mate. She takes it all. Her hands reach out and pull me closer. With desperate need and a fiery passion that won’t cease, I kiss her lips, lick her face and suckle her breasts with shameless avarice. She thrashes and gyrates with pleasure, screaming my name in a fit of mindless ecstasy. When her moans grow stronger, I rake my teeth against the sensitive skin of her tight nipples and slam my cock harder into her clenching pussy. Charlotte’s my life. Her body is my playground and I’ll never take an ounce of this for granted again.

  “Igor!” Her eyes roll back as her mouth cries a silent scream. Every limb shudders and vibrates with ripples of pleasure. “Iggy! I love you!”

  “Charlotte, baby...” My words stumble. Pleasure seizes me as her pussy milks my cock sooner than I expected. Reaching out, I wind my hand through her long hair, curl her into my arms and come with a loud growl that makes her flinch. We kiss and fight to catch our breaths, but ecstasy lingers. As I empty myself in slow spurts, kissing my doll, I’m almost sure I come again.

  This girl was made for me. I’m never letting her out of my sight.

  Thirteen

  Charlotte

  “What are you thinking about?” Igor stares at me while he flips a pancake. It’s been so long since I’ve had his banana walnut pancakes, my mouth waters while I wait.

  “I’m hungry.” I smile. I’m exhausted too, but right now hunger is in the front seat.

  His mouth curves in a suspicious grin. “No. It’s something else. Are you having second thoughts?”

  This is the umpteenth time he’s checked in. I appreciate that he’s not taking this lightly. I’m not crazy about his profession. I fell in love with a lawyer, not second in command to a large criminal organization. But he’s my Igor and there’s no sense in fighting it. I’ve lived without him. I won’t do it again.

  I shake my head. “I’m not. But I am thinking you lied about something else.”

  He quirks an eyebrow and places my pancake on a plate. “About what?”

  “This house. Did you pick it out? Did you buy it for me, Iggy?” I reach for my plate, but he cruelly holds it over my head.

  “You ask too many questions, malishka.” He chuckles. “How did you know?”

  I grab my plate, pour a generous serving of syrup and dig in. “Black and white checkered tile under our feet. I always said I wanted a kitchen with checkerboard tile. Stainless steel appliances with a retro look. There’s a pink room upstairs. It could be a nursery, but it looks more like an office. I told you I wanted a pink office. There are new concrete cobblestones out back and one has our initials, and another has the name Easy Street. I told you about my fake store years ago. That can’t be a coincidence.” I mumble through a mouth full of pancake.

  He gazes thoughtfully as he steals a bite. “I didn’t buy it for you. I bought it for us. But if you didn’t want me back, then you could keep it. I didn’t want this without you.” He leans in and gives me a kiss laced with syrup.

  I bite my quivering lip as my pout gets ugly. “How could I live here without you? This place has Iggy written all over it.” I fly into his embrace and sob.

  “Please don’t cry, sweetheart. You and I were never meant to be apart. We would have found our way home, baby. You know that, don’t you? You’re my home, Charlotte.”

  I nod. “And you’re mine, Iggy. I promised to make you happy. You were supposed to smile every day, and you thought I annulled us. You must have hated me.” I wipe my tears and take another bite of his delicious pancakes. Grief does not affect my appetite.

  He wipes syrup off my chin, then drops to one knee. “Never. That’s in the past anyway, and we’re making a new future. We’re still legally married. We don’t have to have another wedding, but we should. And this time, you’re getting a proper one, honey.” He pulls my old ring out of his pocket. The one my parents made me surrender to his uncle before I left for Europe. “Will you marry me, baby?”

  Tears bust loose. The dam explodes and hysterics ensue. I cover my face and sob uncontrollably. There’s no dignity. No restraint. I pant, gasp and drool with so much emotion, I fear Iggy will call for a straight jacket. Humiliated but unable to stop, I reach for napkins, lean into the counter and try to keep from falling. When my aching heart clenches with panic, my stomach flips and I slide to the floor. Thankfully, Igor catches me and helps me wipe my tears. “Is that a yes?”

  I nod and curl into his arms. “Yes. And...”

  He cuts me off. “And you can have that cake again.” He kisses my forehead. “I love you, little girl. Nothing was right when you were gone.”

  Fourteen

  Epilogue- Three Years Later

  Igor

  It hasn’t been easy. Being married to Charlotte and working a job that keeps me out of the house most of the day is a cruel punishment doled out to lucky bastards who don’t deserve their good fortune.

  My doll is the incarnation of bliss. She said she’d make me smile every day and she does. I knew I was miserable without her, but I never knew the depths of my misery until I climbed the heights of sheer joy with my girl
. She makes everything better.

  This life, the world I’m forced to live in would be truly unbearable if it wasn’t for the fact that I get to come home to my beautiful girl every stinking night.

  And it’s not just her. Our daughter Natasha turned two a few months ago. Sweet angel almost made the nice wedding I promised her mother impossible. But that’s more my fault than hers. We found out we were expecting only weeks after Charlotte’s return. Wedding plans had already been made. But Charlotte’s a trooper. She worked with a seamstress up until the last minute and her four-month bump was hardly visible in her tight gown. My girl took my breath away.

  But that’s nothing new.

  “Charlotte! Baby!” I slide into the door, creeping carefully in case Tasha’s taking her nap. If she’s asleep, I prefer she stays that way. It’ll give me an hour or two to have my way with her mother.

  “Hey, big boy.” Charlotte waves to me from the top of the stairs, wearing a short baby doll negligee and flaunting her very pregnant belly. She knows how much that shit turns me on.

  “Is that new?’ I take the steps two at a time and shed my clothes as I walk.

  “No! It just looks different because I’ve stretched it out.” She laughs to herself.

  “You look stunning, baby.” I run my hand up the curve of her belly and cup her generous breasts with both hands. “And these...fuck, you know I love your tits when your pregnant.” I pull one out and lick her nipple.

  “Iggy.” She gasps and pulls my hair.

  “Charlotte, I’m going to fuck you so hard, I might get you pregnant again.” I lead her into our room and close the door.

  “She drops the straps on her gown and smirks. “I’d like to see you try, mister.”

  I move in to teach her a lesson. A good one. Maybe laced with a spanking, but our plans are trashed when we hear the distinct sound of Tasha waking up.