by Jasmin Quinn
“Rusya,” she gasped. “Please.”
And he stopped stroking as he hovered over her, his face an inch from hers, his dark gaze scorching her. “Please what? Anything. I can wait.” But she heard his deep breaths, knew he was pushing himself.
God, this wasn’t how sex was. Men didn’t ask. “I want your mouth on me. Your lips.”
The side of his mouth quirked up. “Please?”
She gave him some small desperate nods, her eyes pleading with him. Any fucking thing he wanted. “Please.”
“Again.” Still soft as his fingers lingered on her pelvis, tangled in her little triangle of hair.
She let out a small squeak as he dropped a little lower, ran a finger through her folds. “Please.”
He brought his hands up, tangled them in her hair, kissed her softly, then deeper, more possessive, dragging her up again, making her think she could come again. He dropped to her neck, then her shoulders, lips, his tongue, a scrape of his teeth. Back to her face. “Esma, you’re mine.”
She nodded, breathless, “Yes.”
His touch, his fingertips sliding down her neck, slowly to her breasts, wrapping his lips around a nipple, gently sucking, and she was so tender it sent a tremor through her the size of an earthquake. She sucked in her breath as she arched her back.
He dropped the nipple brought his head up, checking her face.
She groaned. “Don’t stop.”
Back to her nipple, his lips sucking, his hand squeezing, toying with the other while she whimpered. It hurt and it didn’t. Each little suck, the nip from his teeth, sent a bolt of pleasure down to her womb. It contracted, reached out for her pussy and caused a little flood. He followed the trail of fire, kissing her belly as he ran the warm palms of his hands down her sides, holding her hips and dropping his lips to her folds, his tongue licking her clit, sucking it, pulling at it, ravishing it. And Esma lost her mind, flinging her head back, arching her back, squeezing her knees to his head as the orgasm ripped through her. This time roughly, mishandling her sanity as it scorched her. Not gentle little throbs, but tidal waves of pleasure. Of release.
And Rusya didn’t stop, didn’t give her time to come down. Didn’t raise his head to watch her. He kept going, assaulting her with his tongue, pulling her back up without letting her come down. She was thrashing, trying to bring her arms to his head, fettered by the silk wrapped around her arms. Cried out again as another orgasm hit her. A devastating aftershock. “I can’t,” she cried.
And this time he gentled his licks, his kisses, sliding his tongue to the crevice of her thigh, bringing his lips up to her belly, lingering there, kissing, touching. Then kneeling up, pulling her up, settling her on him, her thighs straddling him, his arms around her back, supporting her, the silk on her arms pooling between their bodies, hers so sensitive. Then inside with his cock, her pussy opening to him, welcoming him. Tightening around him as he thrust, slow at first, his breath deepening, the silk and his cock, his warm hands on her back, his strong arms cradling him to her. His lips on hers as he thrust into her mouth and her pussy. Fucking her, speeding up, holding her tighter, moaning. And then letting go, his groans loud, his embrace tight, his face in the crook of her shoulder.
Esma fused with him, into him. Anything. Anything he wanted. She’d give him.
Chapter 72
Rusya sat on the couch in his suite at the Rosewood. The sun was streaming through the window, reaching inside him and heating his spirit. He loved the Rosewood, an architectural old soul that stroked his senses, offered the best of things in life, like this beautiful suite, like this moment of peace. It mirrored who he was, a man who liked tailored suits, luxurious hotels, good food, good vodka and beautiful women. His mind flitted to his wife, the most beautiful woman.
Esma was still asleep when he’d woken up, and he watched her for a few minutes, wishing her awake. But not all wishes come true. It didn’t matter. He had her for the rest of his life. There’d be so many more mornings. He’d slipped from the bed, showered and shaved, then called for room service. And now, an hour later, he had his coffee in hand, sitting and enjoying a rare moment of sunshine on the west coast in February. He heard her as she woke, as she got out of the bed, heard her shower and waited, sipping his coffee.
She came out, wet waves of hair clinging to the silk robe, her brown eyes dancing, her face a little shy. It gave him a satisfaction. His woman was happy. His woman was sated.
“You should’ve woke me up.” She sat next to him on the couch, curled her feet to the side and leaned into him, her hand stealing under his robe and caressing his chest.
He touched her hair, tugged it at the back forcing her face to his. Leaned down and kissed her long, hard. Then came up for air. “I thought about it.”
She grinned into his face. “I woke up alone and you know what I thought?”
He shook his head. “What did you think?”
She shifted to her knees, took the coffee cup from his hand and placed it on the side table, then straddled him. “Let me show you.”
His breath caught. Fuck! Then she was on her knees, on the floor between his legs, her hands on his thighs as she brought her teeth to the tie on his robe and gnawed on it until he laughed and pulled it apart, pulled his robe open.
“Better,” she said as she brought her lips to the inside of one of his thighs. Then, “Open.” And he did, spreading his knees as she kissed his balls, ran her tongue through the crevices, licking him until his cock was harder than he thought possible.
His voice sounded distant to him as he said, “Don’t start something you can’t finish.”
She took one his balls between her lips and sucked on it, a little roughly. Then moved her lips to his other ball. Heard her mumble, “I have every intention of finishing.” Sucking gently, tugging, caressing his balls as her hand stroked his cock, heating him, making his heart race. Then her lips, French-kissing his cock, open mouth, tongue, her teeth gently raking the length, making him groan. Making him gather her hair in his hand, pulling it, holding it. Her tongue teasing his hole, making him close his eyes and drop his head to the back of the couch. Fucking woman was torturing him.
She closed her lips over the top, sucking it as her hand stroked his cock. Not gentle, the pressure forcing his balls to tighten, his breathing to deepen. “Esma,” he growled. “Come up here.”
“No.” Muffled voice. “I’m not finished.” Another hard suck, then, “You’re not finished.”
She raked her teeth on his shaft, then pulled him into her mouth as deep as she could, sucking him, hot, silky, wet, the pressure and he brought his head up, looked at her, the top of her head, on her knees in front of him. His woman. Fuck! And she made him groan, the lips, her lips. Her tongue exploring him, steady pressure, steady strokes.
He pulled her hair, he was losing control. “Esma.” She didn’t stop, said nothing as she fucked him with her mouth. Tortured him with her tongue.
He was close, he needed to be careful not to lose control. He brought his hand to hers as she held him, hugged it with his fingers, tightening the hold, forcing her strokes faster, forcing her mouth. Holding her hair, keeping her head steady, then faster, the pleasure sweeping through him. Fuck! His groans louder as his balls tightened.
Then he came, a sudden build, an attempt to delay it, the tremors and then he erupted, the semen into her mouth, and she, letting him lead her, still stroking as his eyes closed, as he dropped his head on the back of the couch. As his hips thrust. And then it ebbing and he missed it already. His hands slackened on her hand, on her hair and she handled him gently, her mouth still on his cock, her tongue teasing him, sucking the last of his come from him, polishing his cock with her lips.
As his breath returned, she crawled up into his lap and brought her mouth to his, holding his face with her hands, kissing him deeply, taking his mouth with her tongue. Wildly, passionately, owning him. He held her to him, brought his hand to the back of her head and pressed her to him, taking o
ver, being a fucking prick because she was his woman. Then she pulled back, smiled and slipped off his lap. She walked to the table, to the coffee pot, poured a cup, added a drop of cream and brought the cup to her nose and inhaled. Her eyes fluttered closed, then opened.
She grinned as she caught him looking. “The second-best thing in the morning,” she said.
Chapter 73
Five months later
Everything in the nursery was perfect. Well, almost, Esma thought. Janice brought the biggest, bluest smiliest bear Esma and Rusya had ever seen. It was dominating a corner of the nursery and she and Rusya were staring at it. Rusya looked doubtful. “I think our boy is going to grow up scared to death of giant blue bears.”
Esma laughed. They both did. A lot these days. Counselling helped, mostly her, helped her not to hammer back, helped her find her way to meet Rusya in the middle. Helped her believe she was worthy of him, believe in his love for her. And he kept his word to her. No matter how bad it got and it still did some days, he never raised his hand to her. Never touched her. When he thought he might, he went to Janice, told her he was leaving. And she went to Esma. They had a lot to thank Janice for. Hence the big fucking blue bear in the nursery. How could they say no?
Rusya left to make some calls and Esma waddled down the stairs to the dining room. She was small and the boy they were having seemed to be a linebacker. In her belly, kicking her around, already acting like a future fucking prick. And then she dropped the thought. She loved the little overweight bundle of joy even if he was beating her up from the inside out.
So excited, so impatient, wanting everything perfect. Rusya said no to anything other than a traditional means of birth, no midwives. Female obstetrician in place, but when the labour pains started, they would go to the hospital. She already had her bag packed and ready. Seven more weeks. She could do it.
Janice was in the dining room when she entered, looked surprised. “I thought you and Rusya would be lunching in his office. It’s where I took the tray.”
“Okay. He said he had calls to make but I guess he’s expecting me.”
As she started to leave, Janice said, “Does Rusya like the bear?”
“Yes, he does. He thinks it’s perfect.”
Janice cracked a wide grin and Esma returned her smile with one of her own. Little lies were sometimes good.
In Rusya’s office, lunch had been laid out on his desk. He was still on the phone as Esma lumbered up. Talking to Anto she thought. Something wrong on the island. “We’ll go today,” Rusya said. “Yeah, Helijet harbour to harbour. Get Katerina to arrange it.”
Esma picked up a sandwich and bit idly into it. Nice little ham sandwich on whole wheat with some pickles. The way she liked it. Rusya ended the call and looked over to Esma as he reached for the other half of her sandwich. “I’ve got to go to Victoria today. Probably be gone two or three days.”
Esma frowned. “I thought you were going to limit your time away now, with the baby being so close.”
Rusya was still Rusya. Men didn’t change overnight and the Russian mob boss still ran a tight ship and expected everyone on board to do his bidding, she included. And she did most of the time. But he’d been gone a lot lately and she was tired of being the only one weighted down with the basketball in her womb.
Rusya took a small bite of the sandwich as his eyes settled on her. “At the last appointment, the doctor said that everything was fine. Right on track, nothing to worry about. And I’m a short flight back if something should happen.”
Esma pouted. She was more emotional lately, probably the hormones, the imminent birth, the fact that every five minutes she had to pee. Her life had changed so much. “I know.” Her voiced cracked. “It’s … I want you to be there for the birth.”
He took another bite, chewed. Distracted. “Still seven weeks to go. I’ll be gone three days. Relax. You can’t tell me you wouldn’t enjoy a little time away from me.”
Esma felt the ugly insecurities ripple through her, the little devil in her ear telling her that it was he who needed time away from her. Not the inverse. “I don’t want me-time. I want you-time.”
“Enough. I haven’t got time for this.” He walked past her and out of the office.
It pissed her off. These moments when they couldn’t reconcile their differences, when he heard her, but didn’t listen to her. She knew something was going on in the background. Something he wouldn’t share, something he was protecting her from. But it made him temperamental, impatient, short with her. All the things she didn’t need right now.
She sat in her chair in his office and waited for him, then when an hour passed, she went in search of him. Eduard grinned widely, a small note of triumph in his eyes when he told her he’d already left. Rusya didn’t say goodbye.
Later, after dinner, she returned to the office and called him. They fought. He apologized for leaving like he did. Distracted by things. But it hurt and she cried. Then he had to go and she begged him to come home. He said he couldn’t, that he would call her later that night. She waited up for his call, until after 2am, then finally fell asleep. Weepy. Fucking pregnancy, she couldn’t even kick his ass right now.
Chapter 74
Rusya was tired, discouraged and guilty. The day had been too fucking long and he knew another long day was in store for him tomorrow. He’d wished he could have taken Esma with him. Victoria, BC was a nice city some of the time. Funny though, given that Vancouver was his home, he found Victoria too small, crowded, no room to breathe. The hazards of living on the southern tip of Vancouver Island, he decided. The provincial capitol.
He didn’t want the distractions right now. The current one was problematic but at least no one had died today or was even severely injured. Conversations about missing and late shipments went on into the evening, and then he and Anto had a late dinner and a few drinks. Discussing the day, the plan for the next. By the time he made it to his suite in the Grand Pacific, it was well after midnight. Too late to call Esma.
Tomorrow, he had an early trip up-island to Nanaimo. The business at hand was unpleasant, and he worried it would leak into his words. It mattered to him that she not be exposed to this side of their life. Her life, her past had been unforgiving, and she wore the emotional scars of it too close to the surface. He wanted to shelter her, keep her safe, love her. More importantly, he wanted her to believe she was safe and loved.
And the baby. A boy, his boy. He was so excited about the prospect and it showed, he knew it did. His men were more reticent around him, not because he was a cold, dangerous fuck. No, but because he smiled more often, was less guarded with his words. He thought they liked the old Rusya better, because at least they knew where they stood with that man. This new one, a father-to-be, asked too often about family, talked too much about babies. This one was too fucking happy.
He slipped into bed, missing Esma’s hot little body, a furnace of hormones that tucked herself into him every single night. No sex now, the doctor said. No penetration. Didn’t matter though, they had other means of enjoying each other’s bodies and every time he was with her, he marvelled at her response to him, his response to her. But he did miss the sex. Another reason he wanted the baby born.
He fell asleep, thinking of her, missing her. Thinking he’d call in the morning.
Chapter 75
No call in the morning and Esma wandered the house trying to keep herself distracted. She wanted a drink, always a drink when the going got tough. Dr. McClean thought she should attend AA meetings, but Rusya said no and she agreed with him on that one. It wasn’t the thought of the meeting itself, but she would be too vulnerable, exposed, especially pregnant, but even when not. McClean became her AA sponsor and he made himself available as often as he could. And Janice too, but Esma didn’t always seek either out when she felt the need tug at her, because it tugged at her a lot. The past didn’t unravel easily. Not a sweater of wool she could pull apart and reknit overnight. It took time.
Thi
s morning though, she went looking for Janice, but the woman wasn’t in the house. She wandered back to the office, undecided, then sought out Eduard. They still disliked each other, but she’d never said much to Rusya. She blamed herself a little because the asshole Russian brought out her dark side. But he was the houseman. The security. He knew all the comings and goings.
He was behind his desk and looked up when Esma rapped on the open door. She saw his scowl, then it dropped. But no greeting, waiting. Tears in her eyes again, always the fucking tears these days. The obstetrician told her that her hormones were out of whack and would be for several months, even after the baby was born. But they would normalize. She swiped at the one that had snaked its way down her cheek, then the next, and the next. And then the torrent started, and she was mortified that she was weeping in front of Eduard. He was a pit-bull and he’d take advantage of her weakness.
Except he didn’t. He stood, rounded his desk and brought her inside his office, led her to a chair and helped her to sit. Then handed her tissue and leaned on his desk with his ass, arms crossed, hovering over her. “What’s wrong?” His voice wasn’t soft, no empathy and she was glad for that. If he decided to be too nice, she might have vomited.
She shrugged. “I was looking for Janice. With Rusya gone –” Her fucking voice cracked and a fresh round of tears. She swiped at them impatiently, looked at the wall, anywhere but at him. “Sorry. It’s… he left, didn’t say goodbye. He said he was going to call…”
Eduard grinned suddenly and it shocked her a little. He seemed amused and almost friendly. “Janice is out for the day.”
Esma remembered then, stupid hormones fucking with her memory. She knew this already but forgot. Embarrassed now, she struggled to her feet, the bulk in her womb messing with her equilibrium. “I should go.” And then she did, twisted to the door and fled back upstairs to her suite, where she cried again, gave herself a good hard kick for being so weak, then cried some more.