Page 19 of Only For Your Touch
Opening his eyes, he met her gaze, waiting to see the fear, condemnation, hate, and betrayal there. But after several seconds, they didn’t appear, and her thumb stroked his cheek…waiting. Sighing, he cupped her hand in his and lowered it, placing it in her lap and drawing back. It wasn’t right to allow her to continue to touch him when he had to tell her she’d become involved with a man who’d once existed in the same murky world her father ruled.
“I grew up in a neighborhood where the Irish mob ran nearly everything. And if they didn’t run it, they extorted it. My two best friends had been born into the life; their parents were heavily involved. And eventually, I became involved, too. At an early age, they ran errands, stole cars, collected debts. Killian and Rion were big for their age, and after the sixth grade, so was I. But while they didn’t really have a choice, I did. I loved it—the danger, the excitement, the rush, the money. My father, who had left everything in Russia to come to America in order to give his family a better life, hated what I’d become. He was a hard man, but he was also very proud. And having a thug as a son was something he couldn’t stomach or condone. When I was sixteen, he kicked me out of the house and his life, and as his wife, my mother cut me out of her life, too.”
“Sasha, I’m so sorry. God, you must’ve been so scared.” She reached for him again, took his hand in hers, and this time, he let her.
“Yeah, I was,” he admitted for the first time, even to himself. Even after Killian offered his home to him, he’d still been scared, rejected, and as grief-stricken as if his parents had really died. “My friends took me in, and I continued in that life. Corrine, my father had been a professor with degrees in Russia, and then when he came here, the only work he could get was as a janitor in a school. I saw him struggle, scrape to get by and provide for us, and I didn’t want that. I wanted to be my own man, have everything I wanted. Even if it meant stealing to get it. I was damn good at it until one job.”
She didn’t interrupt but reached around him and stroked the bullet wound under his shoulder.
He nodded. “The guy who was in charge of casing the jewelry store didn’t know the owners had hired an extra security guard. I was shot—almost died. When I was in the hospital, my mother came to see me. Eleven years without a word from her, and she visited me, told me she was dying. And her only wish was to see me become the man she’d raised, the man she’d always believed I was capable of being.”
Cradling his jaw in her palm again, Corrine caressed his bottom lip. “And you did.”
“Eventually, I did,” he agreed. The road to leaving the mob hadn’t been easy…hadn’t been clean. He, Killian, and Rion had paid a heavy price. Maybe Killian more than he or Rion. Still, they’d escaped the mob life and granted his mother’s dying wish. At least, he hoped he had. She probably hadn’t meant owning a sex club, but it was legitimate. It was honest. He prayed that was enough.
“She would’ve been proud,” she murmured, as if reading his mind. “You’ve built something of your own that gives people the freedom to be who they are. To find who they could be. Like I did.”
Her compassion stunned him, momentarily stealing him of his voice.
“What is it?” she asked.
“You aren’t disgusted by me?” Relief flooded him, and it wasn’t until then he’d acknowledged how much her respect meant to him.
“Disgusted? Of course not. How could I be? I understand your reasons then, and you’ve changed your life now,” she murmured, kneeling beside him and tightening her hold on his face so it felt like an embrace. The sheet fell from her, baring her breasts and stomach to him, and while desire simmered inside him, it wasn’t the dominant emotion. He bracketed her hips with his hands, gratefulness rushing through him, humbling him. “Was it your mother who told you the past doesn’t define you?”
“Yes.”
“She was right. And she obviously knew you were more than a thief. She saw past your actions to you—therealyou. She saw what I do. A man with a core of integrity and honor. A loyal man, protector, a warrior. Ragnar.”
“We really need to have a long discussion about the difference between Russians and Vikings,lisichka.” He smiled, surprised he was able to. Especially when her words simultaneously lifted a weight off his chest and strangled him. Threading his fingers through her hair, he gripped the thick strands. “If you can see that, then know it’s okay to still love your father, Corrine. There’s no shame in remembering and adoring the man who protected you. Whatever else he is, he was a good father to you. You can hate his actions and still love him. From someone who lost the love of his family because of his choices, don’t take that away from him, because in the coming weeks he’s going to lose everything else. Let him have that. And fuck those who don’t agree with it.”
Tears glistened in her eyes, and she squeezed them shut, but a single tear rolled down her cheek before falling between them. With a small whimper, she straddled his lap, jerking his head back, and covering his mouth with hers. He opened under her, accepting the thrust of her tongue and meeting it with one of his own. Desperation tainted the kiss, and he understood it. Escape. He could make her forget, if even for a little while, the emotions and loyalties tearing her apart. Burrowing his fingers in her hair, he gripped the strands and took control of the clash of tongues, lips, and teeth. He held her still as he fucked her mouth with forceful strokes and stinging bites. Her hands dropped to his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin. Finally, with a sigh, the tension stringing her so tight loosened, and she submitted to him, tilting her head, letting him take and give.
Rearing up, he tumbled her back onto the bed and crouched over her on his hands and knees, never breaking the erotic contact of their mouths. He swallowed each whimper and moan as his due, offering her his own in return. The woman had him hard as fuck and throbbing over a kiss.
He tore away from her, dragging his tongue down the slender column of her neck, over her collarbone, and to her breasts. With a growl, he sucked a nipple deep, trapping the peak between his tongue and the roof of his mouth. He pulled on her, teasing the other tip until she twisted and cried out beneath him. Her fingers clutched his head, holding him to her while her hips bucked and rolled, stroking her wet sex over his cock. She was all liquid heat and soft flesh. Her body called to him, taunted him, stirred a need in him that could only be satisfied once he was buried balls-deep inside her.
Switching to the neglected breast, he ground his hips against her, getting himself drenched so the ride was slick and easy. Her heels dug into his ass as she pressed more of her breast into his mouth and rode him with a frantic, jerky rhythm that signaled her headlong rush to orgasm.
“Not yet,” he growled against her skin, levering his hips away from her. Her disappointed cry echoed in his ears. “The first time you come is going to be on my mouth. I’ve been waiting all night to taste you.”
His mouth watered for it. Sliding down her body, he clamped her writhing hips between his hands and dived for her, burying his tongue in her slit. He groaned, that first burst of sweet and tangy flavor exploding on his taste buds. Lowering his head, he lapped at the moisture glistening on her folds, losing himself in the pleasure of eating her pussy.
He moved to her clit, pursing his lips around it and sucking it at the moment he drove three fingers into her sex. Her scream rained down on him, and her twisting increased. She arched into his mouth, her slick, muscled walls clamping down on his fingers. He thrust inside her, coating his fingers in her liquid heat then sliding one down the path of skin that led to her ass.
“Sasha,” she rasped, stiffening, her fingers clenching and releasing on his head.
“Shh,” he soothed. “You’ve gone this far with me,lisichka, come a little further. Trust me.” While he spoke, he gently rimmed her hole, increasing the pressure with each pass, letting her become familiar with his touch. “You with me, baby?”
“Y-yes,” she breathed.
“Good girl.” In reward, he licked her clit even as he returned to her core and dipped his fingers inside, corkscrewing his wrist to drench himself in her. Then he shifted back to her ass, pressing a fingertip to the tiny entrance and groaning at the small fluttering of her muscles. “Relax for me. Push against my finger.” He waited until her body loosened and then slipped inside.
She whimpered, clenching around him. He stilled, lapping at her clit, sucking it, distracting her.
“Breathe and relax for me,” he instructed again. The glass-smooth channel clutched his finger, and his erection jumped like it’d penetrated her ass. “You feel so good. Let me in some more, baby. I can make you come so hard,” he promised.
Gradually, she loosened, and her breathing deepened.
