by V. F. Mason
With that thought in mind, I removed the towel and moved toward the wardrobe.
Why wait for the inevitable, if all this could be done now?
Vivian
Gazing at my ceiling and counting the ships didn’t help me fall asleep no matter how much I tried. The slight rustle of the curtains flying around the open balcony door unsettled me, creating an awareness in my body that didn’t allow me to relax and drift to la-la land.
Or maybe you are freaking insane.
Giving up on sleep all together, I pushed back the blanket and stood up, groaning loudly at the stiffness in my back. That’s what I got for spending too much time on my back during an expensive photoshoot for Vogue magazine.
But the money was good, and in my position, I was grateful to have a well-paying job that allowed me to be financially independent from anyone. My existence under the piles of lies was hard enough.
The ring of my cell phone snapped me out of my depressing musings, and noticing the caller ID, my face lit up with a smile. He always had the best timing.
“Hi, honey.”
A squeal, and then a loud “Hi, Mama!” greeted me from the other end of the line, and joy rushed through me.
My little boy was the only source of happiness in my life.
“Guess what, Mama?” he asked excitedly as I sat down on my big, fluffy, green chair, enjoying the softness it provided.
“What?”
“I just baked my own cookie.”
I paused for a second at this information, because with my kid, you seriously never knew, and then said, “You did? How so?”
He huffed, clearly exasperated he had to explain so much to me. “Grandma showed me how, and then we baked chocolate cookies together. Mine are better,” he said proudly, and I rubbed my forehead, wondering if this stage would ever pass.
Jake, my son, was a five-year-old with the kindest heart of all. He would bring wounded animals home from his stroll in the woods, help older people on the sidewalk with their groceries—and by that I meant them giving him something light, so he would have a sense of responsibility—and he would always tell stories to whoever listened to lighten the mood.
However, he also had a sense of competitiveness, and he always had to be the best at something. Second place would simply not do. I had no clue how to control it or explain it, without discouraging him to do his best. Too bad parenting didn’t come with some kind of book that had a list of guidelines.
“I’m sure you did, honey. But Grandma bakes the best cookies.” Glancing at the clock, I mentally counted the time back in Texas and wondered. “Why are you still not in bed?”
“Grandpa said I could,” he simply answered, and then grew quiet, as the sound of his favorite cartoon could be heard in the background.
Grinding my teeth, I barely restrained myself from calling my father and scolding him for this behavior. He didn’t care about Jake’s schedule, always trying to be the best grandpa. As if he had anyone else to compete with for the title. Years ago, he made sure Jake had no one but my family around him.
My father was not a man you could mess with, and frankly he didn’t give a shit about my feelings, but he loved Jake with everything he was. He was the long-awaited grandson, finally a boy in the Jackson dynasty, and Dad worshiped him. If it was up to me, Jake wouldn’t leave my side, but the rules were different.
Alex’s order to send Jake there once a month was weird, but I didn’t object much. Out of all the weird things he could have asked from me, that at least benefited my child. The only saving grace of this arrangement was the fact Jake enjoyed spending time with them for a weekend each month.
Otherwise, I’d grab him and run far, far away where no one would dare threaten to hurt us.
Thoughts of a gray-eyed, handsome man entered my mind, and my eyes closed for a second, drinking in the image of Radmir my mind created. How with only one harsh stare, he could make a man stop in his tracks, so they wouldn’t even look in my direction. He wouldn’t allow his child or woman to be terrified of their surroundings. If only he could protect us all the time.
If only his life wasn’t on the line when I got pregnant.
If only.
Clearing my throat, I willed myself back to the present and to forget the stupid thoughts running through my mind. “Jake, honey?”
“Yes, Mommy?” he replied distractedly.
“How about taking a bath and then going to sleep?” From a distance, I could imagine he was exhausted. Dad always had fishing trips planned along with a barbecue. Add baking to it, and it was a bit much for a five-year-old. He probably ate enough sugar to last him for a week, the only reason he was still up.
“Okay, Mommy,” he complained, and then he said, “Love you, Mommy.” My heart panged painfully in my chest, warming my frozen insides.
My baby, who made all this bearable and worth it.
“Love you, honey. Can’t wait to squeeze you tomorrow.” With that, I hung up the phone and wrote my mom a quick message regarding him. She would listen, and after my last conversation with Dad a few hours ago, I couldn’t bear talking to him.
Why would he even call about this? The topic of Radmir was strictly forbidden in my household. We had enough fights about it to last us a lifetime. Sometimes I wondered if they thought I got pregnant out of thin air, and in their mind, Jake had no father.
Placing the phone on the desk, I was about to go to the bathroom to take a hot bath, hoping to relax my body enough to sleep, when the sound of a vase smashing on the floor caught me off guard.
Quickly running to the living room, my eyes widened at the open terrace door that was usually closed in our small suburban house. The strong wind that must have opened the terrace door widely also must’ve knocked the vase over.
The moonlight shone brightly, allowing me to move freely without the lights on, and as I leaned down to pick up the pieces scattered around, a harsh intake of breath stopped me dead in my tracks.
An awareness rushed through me, heating up my body as the familiar masculine smell filled the air, and my heart froze for a second and then resumed beating twice as fast as before.
Spinning around, I came face-to-face with the man who had haunted my dreams for the last six years.
The love of my life.
Radmir.
He was here.
I couldn’t believe that after six years of separation, he came in the middle of the night to my house, when I was wearing nothing but a see-through, white nightgown.
He had changed during the years spent in prison. My eyes scanned his massive shoulders and bulky figure. He was much more buff than before, although he’d always been muscled, and he used to be leaner. Even the veins in his neck were strained. His hair was cut in a Mohawk, and his face had a beard, an unusual contrast to his usually clean-shaved visage. Tattoos ran all over his body, probably having some important meaning, but it confused me that he had so many. Even his knuckles had letters on them, like he was making a statement.
“Radmir.” I exhaled his name on a heavy breath. After all those years, his name still had the ability to send shivers down my spine as it reminded me of who he truly was. His eyes roamed all over me, dark and heated, promising retribution for whatever he thought I was guilty of.
A dominant, possessive man in need of his woman.
Giving me his crooked smile, he took a step closer, and subconsciously, I moved back, and it accelerated his anger.
“So, you do remember my name, krasivoglazaya. At least that’s something you didn't forget.” His voice was mocking, sarcastic, hurt, and in that moment, my back hit the wall, leaving me no escape, because he was on me in an instant.
His hands were on either side of my head. His hips pushed into mine, which allowed me to feel his hard-on, and everything female in me awakened at his touch. Those parts of me had stayed dormant all these years, because no one could evoke that response but him.
Radmir’s gray eyes roamed over my exposed skin, and he lean
ed closer, inhaling my scent.
“As good as I remember.” Then he ran his nose around my neck and nipped my skin with his teeth, which sent shivers through me. My hands automatically pushed into his hair. “Taste as good as I remember.” His lips moved to my mouth, and without warning, his tongue delved inside, taking ownership.
The kiss was deep, passionate, punishing, hot, and for some reason, it held a feeling of desperation in it.
As if he tried to memorize the taste and hated me for it, like it brought pleasure and pain at the same time. Like kissing me was a sin, and bliss.
I moved my mouth away from him, because it was hard to breathe. As I gulped air, his hands moved to the edge of my nightshirt and started to raise it slowly over my thighs and up to my stomach, the softness of the silk evoking goose bumps and exposing me.
Fast, it was too fast.
We needed to talk. He had to hear my explanation first and understand why I had to do what I did.
It was too soon to make love, too soon.
“No,” I whispered against his mouth and tried to push him away, but he didn’t budge.
God, I forgot how strong he was.
“No?” He mocked me as his hands ripped my panties off with one swift pull, while his mouth moved to suckle on my nipple through the material, wetting it, making the hard bud ache. His hand moved to my core, pushing his finger inside, spreading my wetness all over my tight heat. My muscles clenched around his fingers, and he growled.
Lacing my fingers through his hair, I pulled his head closer and moaned loudly when he bit lightly on my skin, sending tingling sensations through me.
How was a woman supposed to resist a man she loved with all her heart?
“We shouldn’t do this,” I whispered again, and he stilled, raising his gaze to me, memorizing me with smoldering, desire-filled eyes.
Not breaking our stare, he removed his finger from me and brought it to his mouth, sucking it hard, tasting me on his tongue.
He grabbed me by the nape and smashed his mouth once again on mine, allowing me to taste myself on him, earning a whimper from me. Not being able to withstand his assault, I pushed his shirt up. He let go of me for a second and threw it over his head while my hands finally touched his rugged skin, my nails digging into his back.
“Strange how your body says yes, when you keep on saying no.” He unzipped his pants, lowered them, and circled my legs around him, while I hugged him closer.
With one hard thrust, he pushed inside me, and everything froze.
It was painful, pleasurable, all-consuming, and harsh at the same time.
“So fucking tight,” he muttered. “That American fucker didn’t fuck you as good as I did, krasivoglazaya.” In the haze of my desire, I didn’t understand the meaning behind his words.
What American fucker? Was he talking about my past before him? He never brought it up. Why would he talk about this in such a moment?
Other people didn’t belong in our relationship or lovemaking. We promised this to each other during our first night together all those years ago.
“No one but you matters.”
He stilled, grabbed my hair painfully, and pushed my head back, exposing my neck to him. “No one?” Pain flashed in his eyes… and remorse, but he quickly masked it, confusing me even more. “You—” he groaned, and then his mouth was back on mine, owning me again, while he moved in and out of me, making me feel so full and so good. His hands squeezed my ass cheeks painfully, leaving bruises, but I didn't care.
He was finally here, with me, inside me, where he belonged. Years of separation faded away in his arms.
“I missed you so much.”
He snarled at my words. “You betrayed me.”
I tried to shake my head but couldn’t with his tight grip on me. Hard and fast, he continued to pound into me.
This wasn’t just sex; our bodies learned anew what it meant to belong to each other, and even though nothing was resolved between us, I could never say no to him.
The pressure built inside me as I rose higher and higher with each thrust, and then my cry of pleasure echoed through the house. My unused muscles clamped around him as my orgasm shook through my body, and after one last thrust, he came as well, roaring loudly.
Our bodies were slick with perspiration, but I held on to him as our ragged breaths mixed.
Then something else dawned on me. As great as the experience was, something felt different about this.
He wore a condom. We only used one during our first month together; after that, there was no need. We were fully committed and clean. Why would he use a condom now? I never let another man touch me, and he wouldn’t do that to me either.
“Radmir,” I whispered, longing for answers to my questions.
He didn't reply, merely stepped out of his pants, and on bare feet, padded through my room straight to the bathroom, still holding me. He entered the shower stall, his eyes examining the room as if searching for something. When the water heated and steam started to appear, he stepped inside, placing me on my feet.
“Radmir.”
He ignored me again, taking my pink loofah and soaping it with shower gel before methodically running it over my skin. He rubbed from my shoulders to my back to my knees, and then he spun me around, gently running it over my still-sensitive breasts, my stomach, and finally my pussy.
“Vivian,” he whispered, and a single tear slid down the bridge of my nose, mixing with the water splashing on us. His voice reminded me of my old Radmir, the one who taught me how to love.
Maneuvering me so my back was pressed against the cold tile, he dropped to his knees, hiked one of my legs over his shoulder, and exposed my bare, heated flesh. Rubbing his beard over the inside of my thigh, he nipped it and then slowly, agonizingly, licked from bottom to top and then from top to bottom. He repeated the action several times, driving me crazy, and then finally his tongue entered my opening, probing deep while he groaned like a starved man.
A moan escaped me from the velvet touch of his tongue on my sensitive skin, his beard intensifying the feeling. Before, he was always clean-shaven, so the sensations were unfamiliar to me. Closing my eyes, I tugged his hair as he feasted on me, sending fire through my blood and igniting raging desire inside me. The erotic noises coming from him as he tasted me turned me on even more, the way he was going down on me was as if he tried to imprint himself permanently there so no one would ever compare. He kissed, licked, stabbed, bit.
Then suddenly, his mouth was gone, and I whimpered in distress. My body was aroused beyond belief but lacked satisfaction until he pressed the tip of his tongue on my clit while two fingers pushed inside to find that perfect spot. Then everything turned to bliss.
I tried to hold on longer, yanking on his hair, but he wouldn't stop. Heat flashed through me as another orgasm rocked me. I pushed my core more firmly against his mouth, but he just dug his fingers into my ass harder until the last aftershocks shook me.
By the time I was coherent enough to understand what was going on, the haze of bliss, desire, and pleasure lifted. He turned off the water, wrapped a towel around me, and threw me on the bed, still slightly wet. The bed dipped under his knee, and then he slid my knees wide and took his place between them. Without warning, he entered me with one smooth thrust. Because I was still so sensitive from earlier, I almost came right there. I could feel his heated flesh inside me, the desperation with which he wanted me, so I wrapped my legs tighter around him. Digging my heels into his ass, my toes curled as he hammered inside me, wilder than before.
The slap of flesh against flesh, ragged breaths, tight muscles, overpowering desire—a desire only we shared, because nothing else compared to it in this world.
It was too much, too soon, and after such a long time. Oh God, I was coming again, my back arching as he sucked on my neck. Then he found his release a few minutes later.
He sagged into me, and although it was hard to breathe, I enjoyed his weight on me. It proved I wasn’t
dreaming and this was real.
Magical lovemaking with him.
The only difference from the past was he said almost nothing. Before I could dwell on it much though, he rolled over on his back and brought me onto his chest, and then exhaustion claimed me.
With the steady beating of his heart under my ear, I was lulled to sleep.
My man came back to me.
Radmir
The minute Vivian fell asleep, I detached myself from her as gently as possible so my leaving wouldn't wake her. I stood, gathering my clothes in the process. While dressing, my eyes stayed focused on the beautiful woman splayed on the bed, her chest rising and failing peacefully in sleep. Her rich locks covered her breasts, but her long legs were visible under the sheet. Several hickeys marked her swan-like neck, my marks of ownership on her porcelain skin for everyone to see. Although I never planned for that to happen, because she no longer belonged to me, my body remembered. My cock hardened at the image, but I ignored it, zipping my pants quickly.
No one brought me greater pleasure than she, and this possessive beast in me longed to whisk her away and lock her up in Russia, so we wouldn't be separated ever again. I’d torture her for days for giving up on me, for breaking her promise of eternal love, but then we would be together, and all this could be put behind us.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, I moved a strand of her hair, and she followed my hand, enjoying the caress on her cheek even though asleep. For the first time since Dominic announced to me she was behind my imprisonment, I contemplated something I thought was impossible in our situation.
Forgiveness.
Building a life with her after everything, forgetting about all the bad shit that had happened to us.
Just imagining it in my head untied the hard knot in my heart, and I was about to place a kiss on her lips, when a framed photo on her nightstand caught my attention.
Vivian was standing outside in a park, wearing jeans and a light shirt while smiling brightly at the camera. She held a newborn baby in a blue blanket, hugging him tightly to her chest. Looking down, I noticed a small handwritten caption.