Viktor knew Marissa thought that he had withdrawn from her, but she couldn’t be more wrong. He was a bit … terrified. And that was an unfamiliar feeling for him. But she had just brought up the perfect opening for what had been on his mind for the past few days. And they were not at his house where he had what he needed to get this done.
*****
Marissa watched Viktor disappear to the second floor. Difficult. Difficult man.
She was giving her man another fifteen minutes before she whipped him back from whatever wall he had bracketed himself behind. She understood him only too well, and he should be so lucky, because Marissa was probably the only female on the planet who would put up with his bullshit. She sniggered inwardly. She was the lucky one, though she wouldn’t admit it to Viktor. Her total submissiveness in bed was enough to stroke his ego. She squirmed at the twitching between her thighs. They had been going at it like rabbits, and there were no signs of their carnal pleasures abating. They did suffer a little setback for a few days three weeks ago.
When they first got back together, Viktor had admitted to a slight tremor on his right hand. This was screwing with his aim, and screwing with his psyche. They’d practiced a couple of times at the firing range, but it would always end up with Viktor snarling in frustration. Dr. Henderson wouldn’t give an opinion, stating it was too soon to consider this permanent damage, and that Viktor should give his hand a little more time to heal. For a man like Viktor, this was not an option.
So Marissa did something drastic, and she would admit, totally nuts. The third day on the firing range, she snatched the Rubik’s Cube from Tim’s station. She walked straight into the firing lane, ignoring Viktor’s bellow of warning, stood in front of the target board about thirty feet out, and placed the cube on her head.
“What the fuck, Marissa?”
“I trust you to hit the target—”
“Are you fucking insane?”
“Maybe. But I trust you—”
Viktor stalked toward her, dragged her off the lane, grabbed her shoulders and shook her hard. “But I don’t trust myself.” His voice was ragged with his admission and it broke her heart. To a man like Viktor, his weapons were an extension of who he was. She curled her arms up around him, interlacing her fingers behind his neck, drawing his head down and gave him two firm jerks.
“I trust you. If you don’t want to risk using me as a live target, I’ve given you a visual to work with. This is important, Viktor. There might come a time when you’ve got to shoot someone holding me under duress.”
“I could always shoot your leg, take you out of the equation.”
Marissa punched him in the gut. “I’m serious.”
The improvement wasn’t immediate. But after another week of daily firing range practices, Viktor’s tremor disappeared and he was shooting his targets as deadly accurate as ever. Whether it was her little ploy that helped or his neurotransmitters simply readjusted, Marissa didn’t care, but Viktor had thanked her more than once for helping him get through it.
Just then, Viktor returned from the second floor. When he entered the loft, he had a determined look on his face, and he prowled straight toward her and backed her up against the kitchen counter. The small of her back hit the edge and he leaned in, bending her slightly, he said, “I want us to be permanent.”
“Huh?” Yeah, she was flummoxed. Permanent? What did he mean?
“Um, you have to be more articulate, big guy,” Marissa said. “Not sure what you’re telling me here.”
A look of annoyance crossed his face. He exhaled deeply, opened his mouth and shut it again. He pushed away from her, walked a couple of paces and turned around to face her.
Marissa straightened up. One of her brows was raised and she crossed her arms over her chest. Waiting.
“I want permanence,” Viktor said roughly. “These past months with you, you gave me back my humanity. I don’t want to become a soulless bastard again, and I have a feeling without you in my life, I’m going to revert back to it.”
He walked to her, towering above her, but not touching her. His eyes were smouldering with so much emotion, her heart rate accelerated, her breathing quickened. “I’m listening.”
“You keep me grounded in what matters—people and relationships.” He reached out and cupped her cheek, the pad of his thumb rubbing on her lower lip. “You’re my weakness and my strength. You believed in me, when I’d lost faith in myself. I need you to believe in me now—enough that I could make you happy forever and make this permanent between us.”
Marissa didn’t know whether to bang her head on the kitchen counter, laugh, or break down and cry. Viktor . . . Viktor . . . such a tough guy and yet—
“Are you asking me to marry you, Viktor?”
His brows drew together. “No.”
Mortification suffused her cheeks with color. Her chest imploded like a demolition bomb and she could feel tears burning the back of her eyes. Damn him.
Viktor noticed her distress, and in a gravelly voice, he said, “I’m not asking you to marry me because I’m not giving you a choice, Marissa. You ARE marrying me.”
“You’re such an asshole.” She burst out laughing. Why did she ever expect Viktor do anything conventional? He was the most unconventional man she knew.
“Damn it, Iz. This wasn’t how I imagined this going down.”
“You’re supposed to be asking. A girl wants to be asked,” Marissa retorted, but her heart was singing and her breathing hitched when his hand dipped into his pocket and pulled out an exquisite diamond ring.
“Oh, my God.”
“I love you, Marissa. Be my wife?” His voice was husky. His words simple. Sincere.
And so was her answer.
“Yes.”
“Thank fuck.”
“Hey—” But she shut up when he slipped the ring on her finger and she could only stare at the sparkling rock in bewilderment. Then his hands were in her hair, tangling, pulling and tilting her face up to receive his devouring lips. Marissa didn’t know how she ended up sitting on the kitchen counter with her track pants gone—thank God she took a shower after her run—her legs thrown over Viktor’s back and his blond head between her thighs. He teased her clit through her cotton panties. Cotton! He had to propose to her when she was wearing her ugliest underwear. But her mind blanked, moist heat pulsed at her core when he used the friction of her panties to drive her mad. Oh, God, what was he doing? He skirted his tongue around the crotch and drew her nether lips into his mouth. He grunted against her, gripping her thighs securely as he suckled on her little bundle of nerves that were swelling with arousal.
“Viktor…ahh—”
He responded by burrowing his mouth further and inserting his finger to join his tongue. Her hips bucked into his face, her toes curling as her orgasm ripped through her. The spasms were unending as she began to come. She moaned for him to stop, but her limbs belied her words as her hands dug at his hair. Her legs gripped his head while his mouth continued to suck at her pussy lips.
Viktor once said to judge his actions and not his words. And what he didn’t say, he certainly showed her as he worshipped her, devoured her, and loved her.
*****
“Mine,” Viktor growled. He threaded her panties from her legs and pulled his shorts down releasing his pulsing cock. He pushed her legs straight up, leaning on his shoulders, so she was bent in an L. And he slammed inside her. Viktor closed his eyes when her silky warm as fuck walls grabbed his cock. Fucking heaven.
He gripped her legs as he thrust and thrust inside her, losing all control and rutting into her like a feral animal. His hips pounded her ass. The counter was slippery, but he held on to her tightly and the penetration went deep. He dragged her up to him, shifting her legs so they went around his torso. He stepped away from the kitchen counter, until her weight was supported by his hands under her ass, and then squaring his legs, he proceeded to bounce her on his cock.
“Viktor!” Marissa screamed. Her head fell bac
k when an orgasm shot through her. She dug her nails into his shoulders as he continued fucking her like a piston, alternately curling and flexing his hips at a pounding rhythm. This position was excitingly erotic, but Viktor still wanted more.
“Kiss me!” Viktor grunted. Marissa gripped him tighter and pulled up to kiss him, and with their lips joined and his cock still inside her, he walked to the bed.
He planted one knee on the mattress and lowered her. His dick was protesting the loss of her moist heat, but he needed to let her go to divest them of their clothes quickly.
Now they were both naked.
His eyes tracked down Marissa’s womanly curves. Her nipples were taut peaks, her breasts rising and falling with each breath she took. The dip in her waist, flaring out to her hips, her lithe, silken thighs and what was between them—perfect.
He nudged her up the bed. “Hold on to the slats.”
His woman whimpered in anticipation. God, he needed another taste of her, but his dick was as hard as an iron rod and was aching to be buried in her.
Viktor yanked her legs apart and pushed her knees toward her shoulders, spreading her wide before him. He pushed inside her slowly, her inner muscles clamped down on him, and he gritted his teeth as he fought the pleasure that was sucking him in. He stared down at her. “Ready to be fucked, kitten?”
Marissa returned his gaze. She was biting her lower lip with her arms stretched above her, gripping the slats obediently. She whispered, “Please . . . take me.”
And in soul-claiming possession, he began to thrust. Sliding in and out of her, he watched her eyes grow heavy-lidded in ecstasy. He took her.
*****
Their grunts and moans mingled with the natural sounds of the fauna inherent in an evening in mid-May. Viktor had Marissa up against a concrete wall of her parents’ perfectly manicured garden at the back of the mansion. It was their engagement party, a formal affair of black tie and evening dresses. Viktor hated being the center of attention. It just went against his lifetime of working in the shadows, but he bore it because he loved this woman. This woman who was currently being plowed into the wall by his dick.
He had all intentions of reining in his debauchery tonight. But something about sliding that gown up Marissa’s shapely legs, unzipping his trousers, and fucking her with his clothes still on, and doing it outdoors under the cloak of a spring evening when mating calls were at their peak seemed . . . appropriate.
And this was a submission fuck. His woman was being stubborn again.
“Do I make myself clear?” he growled against her lips, pounding against her hips, his cock sliding hard and wet inside her.
“Too much work!” Marissa gasped.
“You change your name, Iz. I don’t care if you keep it for work,” he muttered. “But everywhere else, you take mine. Mrs.—Marissa—Baran.” He punctuated her name with three hard, decisive, thrusts.
Marissa moaned into his mouth. “Oh, God, I’m coming, don’t stop—”
“Promise.” He stilled his hips.
She glared at him. He could feel her pussy on the verge of spasming, contracting, and it was killing him to stop. But he was taking pleasure in dominating her, perverse as that might sound.
“Yes.”
“Promise, Iz.”
“Yes!” she repeated for an altogether different reason as he resumed pumping inside her with all the force he could muster as his own climax destroyed him. Sweat beaded his forehead as his cum shot into her already slick channel like a geyser. He had to control himself from not howling his soul-shattering release. He groaned into her neck and shuddered, squeezing her upper thighs and struggling to keep her legs around him when all he wanted to do was collapse into her.
Viktor swept her up in his arms and carried her to a gazebo in the middle of the garden. Lowering her to her feet, he removed his tuxedo jacket and laid it on a bench. Sitting Marissa down, he crouched in front of her. Using the panties he had ripped off her earlier, he began to wipe the semen that had dribbled down her legs. He hated removing his mark from her, but in the interest of propriety, it had to be done. He wanted to say something to break the electrified silence. Viktor had always been a man of few words, but this was made worse by each emotional upheaval he experienced every time he made love to her. She consumed him. He wondered if it would lessen in time. So far it only seemed to grow stronger.
But his woman got him. She reached out to touch his cheek, bringing his chin up so he was looking at her. “I love you, Viktor.”
And just like that, his vulnerability disappeared and he found his voice once more. He grabbed the back of her neck and crushed her lips against his. After kissing her thoroughly, he muttered, “I love the fuck out of you, Iz. I love you, damn it.”
She pulled him up to sit beside her, pushing the hem of her gown to fall back in place. They sat in silence for a while, simply soaking up the afterglow of their passionate tryst.
“Hopefully, no one will send out a search party for us,” Marissa said finally.
“Someone probably already has. But we were pretty loud. If anybody was in the garden, he’d most likely heard us and knew better than to interrupt coitus.”
Marissa laughed, “At least you’ve promised to make an honest woman out of me.”
Viktor’s heart swelled at the thought of making her his wife. Only with Marissa. It had always been her. The woman he would damn the whole world for.
“You seem to be getting along with Dad.”
“We’ve called an unspoken truce. We both want what’s best for you. The only difference is, I want what’s best for you to make you happy. Your dad and I might never see eye to eye, Marissa. I hope you’re prepared for that.”
“I am, Viktor. My days of running are over. You’re stuck with me, no matter what.”
“And I’ll always fight for you. No matter what.”
They stared at each other, the promise of their future so bright and full of hope. Viktor had found his humanity and the love of his life. What more could he ask for?
He stood up and held out his hand. Their fingers entwined, and they walked back to the revelry celebrating the beginning of their lifetime together.
Smoke and Shadows Page 28