"There are bad men in this world, and sometimes they need to be removed so that their harm cannot spread to others."
She shudders, and I hold her tighter. "Will this ever go away?" she asks.
"Yes and no. The stark feelings of guilt will fade, but you will not forget this moment." I debate what to say next, for I have no experience in comforting someone I love. I have no experience with loving either. "I think you will find some peace, but it is okay to not feel it now."
"I know I shouldn't feel guilty. I shouldn't, because he's sold Regan off to God-knows-where, and he wanted to hurt me, and he wanted to kill you. I shouldn't feel guilty, and yet…I do." A sob breaks. She turns her head and cries softly into my neck, and her tears are like pricks from a needle on my skin.
"Shhh, kitten," I whisper over and over as I rock her. The tears subside eventually, and Daisy pulls out of my arms to lie on her back.
"I'm sorry," she says, unable to look me in the eyes.
"Nothing to be sorry about." I roll to my side so I can look at her. The need to touch her is strong, so I pull her to my side and rest my head on top of her. We both lie there in silence for some time until sleep pulls us under.
I awaken to a soft hand between my legs and tender lips at my throat. For a moment I think I must be dreaming and I reach down and cup myself. There I find a fragile hand. Daisy.
Her fingers still and begin to move away, but I forestall her movements. Instead, I grip her hand tighter around my already-hard cock and show her how to touch me.
"You like it rougher than I thought," she whispers.
You have no idea, kotehok. I say silently, but to her I say, "Yes, tighter, a little hard." And we begin to stroke me together. I pull her mouth toward mine, and we kiss, open-mouthed and ravenous. We kiss and kiss while we jerk me to an orgasm. My come jets out in long, translucent ropes, the semen lubricating our caresses. I groan low and loud as she pulls at me harder. "Yes, just like that," I gasp out, and then I can say nothing for a long minute.
I wipe off her hand and mine with the discarded washcloth.
"You're still hard," she notices. My cock jerks in anticipation.
"I am," I tell her. "And I will be until I come inside of you."
Her blue eyes are on fire with desire for me. "Then come inside me," she invites, and I nearly spill again at her invitation.
It's everything I've been waiting for. "My hands are shaking." I raise my hands to show her that they are trembling slightly. "I let you get me off so that I can control myself enough to show you pleasure."
She shakes her head at me, amazed. "Nick, you don't have to try so hard."
"Never." I cradle her head in my hands. "You should shoot me when I stop trying. No effort is too much for you. Pleasing you is the greatest privilege that exists."
I can tell from the look on her face that she doesn't believe me, but it is the truth.
I drop my mouth to hers and kiss her until she takes my breath away and then gives it back. I begin to map her body once again, this time noting that her right breast is more sensitive than her left. With my hands, I mold her breasts and pinch and squeeze the erect tips. Someday our child will suckle here.
Reaching between us, I smooth her lubrication over her cunt lips and then onto my cock. My fingers slip inside her easily this time, our previous play having made her ready for me. Inside, the tissues of her cunt grip me, and I bite my lip hard to keep from coming.
Her hands stroke my shoulders and tangle in my hair. The touch is loving and genuine. I will never get enough of her. I raise up on my elbows and kiss her again and again, all the while plunging my fingers inside her. I grind my palm into her pubic bone and she cries out in pleasure.
"I must taste you again." I push down between her legs and raise her up to my mouth like she is a feast, and then I eat at her like I'm a starved man until she comes and I drink down her juice.
As she shudders from her orgasm, I reach over to the nightstand and rip open a condom. Sheathing myself, I rub just the tip over her already-sensitive flesh, and she trembles and clutches at the sheets, her eyes dazed. I push in slightly, and because I've fingered her several times today, she is so very tight.
"Someday soon I'll take you without a barrier, da?"
She nods. "I'll get on the pill right away."
"Or maybe we make baby?" I spread my fingers over her belly. "Someday."
Her eyes glisten and she chokes out, "Someday."
I cannot hold myself back any longer. The tight grip of her pussy on the tip of my cock is exquisite torment. I push in slowly and feel the tissues give way. My eyes scan her face so that I can pull back or cease if there is any sign of pain, but there is none. When I'm finally seated to the hilt, it is almost too much. I want to stay inside her forever.
"I do not want to leave you, kitten. Ever."
"Then don't," she pants, her hands fluttering over my body. "We'll just make love in this beautiful hotel room until we die."
"A perfect end." I agree. Instinct takes over, and I must move. The first drag of my cock out her channel elicits a groan from both of us. It's the most glorious feeling. I thrust back inside of her.
There is nothing else that exists in this world, only her and me. I lift her so that we are virtually upright and her little clit can rub against my pelvis. My hand tangles in her hair and angles her head so that I can ravage her mouth. My other hand clutches her buttocks as I lift her off me and then drive back inside. Again and again we press against each other until I can feel her convulse around me. I let the ripples of her cunt flutter against my cock and listen to her cries against my mouth. When they begin to subside, I pound against her until my own release comes and I spill into the barrier between us.
Tenderly I rest her against the pillows. Strands of hair are sticking to her face and I push them aside. She is too tired to do more than smile weakly at me. I feel like I have conquered a mountain. I could run a thousand miles for that smile. Swiftly, I dispose of the condom and climb back into bed with her. Pulling the covers up, I tuck her lax body into my side.
She mumbles something and then drops off to sleep. I stare at the coffered ceiling and make a dozen promises to different deities thanking them for their gift and swearing to keep her safe and happy for as long as I have breath.
"WHAT WILL WE DO TODAY?"
"First, we go to the Pardelplatz district and get you onto the bank accounts," I place my fingers over her mouth. "Do not argue. It will be done."
"I'm not with you for your money."
Daisy's mouth turns down at the corner, and I cannot keep myself from kissing it. I stroke my tongue over her pressed lips until they part, and then neither of us argue for several minutes. "Then we shall go to Bahnhofstrasse, where you will tell me what I should be wearing every minute of the day down to my briefs, and then I will help you pick out delectable bits of lace and silk that will touch your secret parts when my lips and hands cannot."
Daisy blushes and shakes her head, but she's smiling. "I hope you have a lot of money, because you clearly like spending it."
I lean back against the soft pillows. "I don't know how much I have, but it is enough for us to buy a few things."
Later at the hotel, I sit out on the balcony overlooking the river, sipping some coffee. Daisy comes storming out, waving the bank book. "Didn't you ever look at this?"
I shrug. "Yes, but what does it matter? I had nothing. So long as I was not hungry or could buy a necessary weapon, the amount was of no concern."
Daisy closes her eyes as if reaching for patience. "This is millions. Like I don't think you and I could spend all of it even if we shopped at the Bahnhofstrasse every day."
"Then we will not worry about it."
My lack of concern over this is bothering Daisy, so I pull the bank book out of her hand and lay it on the table. "I don't care what I have so long as I can be with you, kotehok. I am happy living in a box as long as you are sharing the box with me." I pull her down on my l
ap.
She has changed into one of the sleek black outfits we bought in one of the gold-lettered shops that littered the shopping avenue. Some of those shops had no price tags, which made it easier for me to buy clothes for Daisy without argument. And since many of the shops had agreements with the banks in the financial district, I merely signed a discreet credit slip without Daisy noticing. So much easier that way.
I lay my mouth over my favorite part of her neck where her pulse beats. There is the evidence of her life and her passion. As I suck on it, I can feel the flutter of her heartbeat speed up and suspect that if I slipped my hand beneath her skirt, her delicate pink silk panties would be wet.
"Still, I think I should get a job when we get back, and we both should learn how to manage money," Daisy says, but I can tell her heart isn't in her scold. She tips her head so I can get better access to her neck.
"Are you sore, kotehok?" I only took her once, although she came several times. My bold question makes her squirm in my lap, and my cock responds predictably.
"Not really." She sounds a bit breathless. I suspect that Daisy's body, newly awakened, is just as hungry as mine. My fingers slide up her thigh and her legs fall open. Between them her arousal is evident. It coats my fingers, and the thin barrier between my touch and her clit is soaked. I push the material aside and rub her slightly. She moans, and I pull her chin around so that I can kiss her. My fingers push into her still-tight passage, and I fuck her with my tongue and digits until she is crying into my mouth.
"Let's see how a bath feels," I suggest, lifting her in my arms.
"A bath?" She sounds disappointed.
"Yes, I want to fuck you while you are sitting in front of a jet in the bathtub. And then maybe eat you out." I don't give her any time to protest, fastening my mouth on hers again and walking directly to the bathroom.
We don't come out until hours later, when our skin is wrinkled and we have used up half of the hotel's hot water capacity.
Chapter Sixteen
DAISY
WHEN WE RETURN TO THE States, we go to my apartment. It's quiet and lonely, dust on the counters and the food spoiling in the fridge. It's not the same without Regan. I still don't know where she is or what's happened to her. I'm terrified that we can't find my friend, and nightmares about what is happening to her keep me awake at night.
We were gone for six weeks. We haven't heard more about Regan. Daniel was in the wind, Nick said. We could trust him to bring her home safe. We just had to be patient. A number of past due notices were on our door and an eviction notice was stuck over them. Great. It doesn't matter anymore, I suppose, but the sight of that notice on the door upsets me. It's like no matter what I do, I am still ruining Regan's life.
Nick goes down and talks to the landlord and asks for a key.
The landlord comes up with Nick, grumbling about flighty girls and derelict tenants. By the way Nick is clenching his jaw, I can see Nick's patience is thin. The landlord lets us in, and there is crap everywhere, like some drug-addled neighbor broke in looking for valuable stuff.
I find Regan's phone by her bed. It's still broken. I'll have to charge it and call people. Her boyfriend. Becca. Regan's parents. I want to weep over all the bad news I must share. But for now, I've got to be strong.
Nick is always at my side. He rubs my back and helps me pack everything up.
After it is all taken care of at the apartment and the landlord is paid two months back rent and three months of 'nuisance rent' as he calls it, we are headed for a kennel where Nick says Mr. Brown's dog is. I've never had a dog, but I figure that he's an orphan like Nick and so the two belong together.
Besides, maybe it will help my dad.
Nick has promised that Daniel will find Regan, but Daniel is only one man, and the network of the Bratva is vast. I might never see Regan again, never hear her call me Pollyanna in that cheerful, laughing way of hers.
So when I pack my things, I pack up hers, as well. I will hold them for her until she returns to claim them. Nick assures me she will, because Daniel is an expert at what he does. I will have faith, and wait. And so I pack everything.
Because I am going home.
I realize, after everything that happened in Moscow, that I am different. I still feel that same joy at unfettered sunlight, pleasure in walking down the street and holding Nick's hand, and enjoy things as small as going to dinner together.
But I'm not as innocent as I was. I embrace that small, broken part of who I am. If Nick is darkness with a kernel of light inside him, I am light with the matching kernel of darkness. It's what makes us so perfect for one another.
Nick takes the phone to the cellular store so that he can obtain a list of Regan's contacts. The conversation with her parents is excruciating. I have no answers for them. Regan's boyfriend seems almost disinterested. He never even stops by the apartment. It takes several days to pack up the place. I work slowly, partly in the hopes that Regan will pop through the door one day and surprise all of us, and partly because I am enjoying this time with Nick.
My sweet, broken Nick.
Despite the fact that I know the truth about him, he's convinced, somehow, that I will reach a breaking point someday and turn from him. So at night, he pulls me close to him, and we talk. I tell him of my upbringing, my sad memories with my father, and he tells me stories of hits he has undertaken. They are always hits on awful people: organ harvesters, drug users, smut peddlers. Never innocents. And he tells me the stories of his tattoos, and what they mean, as if seeing these brands of who and what he was will somehow drive me away.
But I listen to his stories without comment, and I kiss each tattoo as we make love. It will take time before Nick realizes that he is worthy of my love, but I am patient. How can I not love this man who watches me with such adoration in his eyes? Who worships my body and soul? Who treats me like I am the most precious thing he has ever touched and scarce believes he is allowed to breathe my air?
Every day that passes, I love Nick more and more. I don't care about his past. We will build our own future, together.
HE'S AGREED TO RETURN HOME with me. My time in Moscow taught me a lot about myself, but it also taught me a lot about my father. I now know that I handled the situation between us all wrong. I shouldn't have run from my father's control; I should have asserted my own. My father's obsessive control came from fear, and I allowed it to rule me. Now that I refuse to live in fear any longer, I want to return to my father's side, and support him…and help him return to the real world.
Nick has promised to be by my side every step of the way.
We rent a sedan and pack it full of my few possessions and Regan's things. Nick only has one bag, and it is clothing. I am sad to see that my poor ubitsya has no personal possessions, save those that he has stolen from me, and his weapons, which he carefully stashes in the rental.
Even though it has been weeks since Sergei's death and Daniel has promised to wipe us from the network's database, Nick will not move freely about unless he is prepared for any and all attacks. He will not let me be taken from him again, he says.
I'm fine with his protectiveness; I don't want to be taken from him again, either.
When we drive up to my father's farmhouse, it looks as lonely and abandoned as ever. Paint is peeling off the boards, the grass in the yard is knee-high, and sheets of wood still board up the windows.
Nick gives me an incredulous look as we pull up. "This is where you lived, Daisy?"
I nod. I've got a lump in my throat at the sight of it. To me, it doesn't look like a prison any longer. It just looks sad. Lonely. I want to fix it because I'm not lonely anymore. Not with Nick at my side and his love fueling my heart.
We park the car, and Nick goes to my side and opens my door for me. I pretend not to see the gun hidden in his jacket, because Nick is not comfortable unless he is vigilant, and this is something my father will understand. Nick helps me out of the car and then his fingers link with mine. We hold hands as
we approach the door, and I give my father the special knock to let him know it's me.
Moments later, I hear the fumble of the locks—all six of them—as they are undone. The door opens into darkness, and there's no one there to greet us. It's my father's way—he opens the door and then hides behind it, just in case of an intruder.
It makes Nick instantly wary, and I watch his hand go up to his jacket, but I calm him with a pat on the arm and step forward. "Father?"
"Daisy?"
It's my father's voice. He sounds so old and tired. We step inside, and Nick shuts the door. As soon as we are in, the lights come on.
"You've come home," my father says, stepping forward, and there are tears in his voice.
I hug him close, surprised at the contact. My father hadn't touched me for so long—at least not out of affection. His normally tidy appearance is disheveled, and the living room is a mess. While I have been gone, my father has been falling to pieces. I feel guilty, and give Nick an unhappy look over his shoulder.
"I'm here, but I'm not staying," I tell him. I won't live under this roof again. "This is Nick. We're moving in together. There's a house for rent down the road, and we're going to move in down there."
We're going to get married, too, and have children, but I know I'll be the one to propose. And I like that, too, because I like the control. I just haven't told Nick all my plans yet. He still thinks he's not worthy of them. I'll give it time—and give him time to realize I'm not going anywhere.
My father is crying, but I only pat his back and murmur things to him. I understand him now, when I didn't before. I tell him I won't leave him again, and that we can start over.
Because I know enough about myself to take control of what I want, now. With Nick at my side, I can be strong and fearless enough for my father and myself. And once my father starts to get over his crippling terror, we'll move forward—all three of us—with our lives. I want to go to college. I want Nick to go, too, so he doesn't feel like he is worthless and skill-less. My Nick loves art, and he talks about the curator so often. I want him to take art classes, and I know it'd please him.
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