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She must sense my thoughts because she puts her hands on my chest and says, “Be gentle with her, Dez. She’s in a state.” Nodding, I enter the room and close the door behind me.
I left only a few hours ago because I felt helpless. I had to do something to work through the rage, and torturing those who tortured her was the best recourse. It helped…for a while.
Now, staring down at my wife, her body tense even in sleep, I see all the pain she’s endured, and it tempers my wrath enough that I crawl onto the bed behind her. Kissing along her exposed shoulder, brushing my hand gently along her arm. It takes a few minutes, but she finally begins to relax and settle into my body. I clutch her to me as tight as I dare without hurting her.
“She had to be sedated,” Nadia comments as she and Vasyl enter the room. “She was so agitated she was hurting herself.” I nod my understanding, hating what leaving her did. Had I suspected she would wake up today, I’d have never gone.
After being under anesthesia to fix her wrist and shoulder, she took her sweet time to wake up. Doctors said it was because she was exhausted, and she’d come around in her own time. I believed that, but my impatience got the best of me, and now she’s suffering again.
“I’m here,malen’ka ptshashka, and I’m not going anywhere until I take you home.” She moans and cuddles into me. Resting my head beside hers, I close my eyes and breathe her in. There is nothing more precious than this moment, nothing that means more to me than the woman in my arms. Which means if I have to let go of my anger and need to avenge her, I will.
TWENTY
LILIYA
CHRISTMAS MORNING – A FEW WEEKS LATER.
“Mmmm.” My body is so relaxed, tender, tired, yet wide awake after another night filled with nightmares. When my eyes gradually open, they immediately capture Dez’s stormy gaze as he lies on his stomach between my legs, working my body into a delicious frenzy with his gentle licking and sweet petting.
“Good morning,malen’ka ptshashka, Merry Christmas.” His lips are covered in my juices, and he appears quite pleased with himself.
“Merry Christmas, my love.” Stroking my fingers through his hair as he leans back down to suckle the tight bundle of nerves that he’s found a love of treating like a lollipop, he rewards me with another orgasm that is the reason I woke up, to begin with.
For the first week I was home, Dez was too afraid to touch me to give either of us pleasure. During the second week, something changed, and he started feasting between my legs like I was the fountain of youth. Multiple times a day, he would go down on me but refused to let me return the favor. Instead, he would give me just the tip and stroke himself to completion, filling me up with his seed so we were still connected.
It seems week three might be different because now he’s a little rougher, not viewing me like a fragile piece of glass about to shatter, and when he climbs to his knees, squeezing his cock to what must be the point of pain, I know he’s finally going to give us what we both want.
“Please, husband.” A few days ago, I discovered he definitely enjoys me calling him that.
“Anything my girl wants.” Kissing up the length of my body, he lays over me without applying pressure to my ribs and slowly slides his length inside me. “Home,” he whispers in my ear, nibbling along my jaw before capturing my lips and kissing me deeply.
My body buzzes with my need for this man, and once he begins moving, I cling to him as tightly as possible before the ache in my torso makes an appearance. “More,” I gasp when he slows down.
“You’re so tight. Squeezing my dick and sucking it in your perfect little pussy.” We make love for what feels like hours, gazing into each other’s eyes, nipping and licking along each other’s flesh.
When my body finally decides to succumb to the pleasure, it’s shocking and paralyzing because it’s never been so big, so overwhelming before. My eyes flash, my body tenses, then melts. Exploding and fragmenting into a million tiny pieces that steal the breath from my body and make it impossible to see, hear, or feel anything else.
Dez pets and kisses me through the torrential outpouring of ecstasy, waiting until I return to my body before letting go of his. Dropping down, he squashes me into the mattress as his hips slam mercilessly into my channel. I ignore the throbbing nuisance from my ribs because I enjoy feeling the way his body quakes with pleasure. Knowing I gave that to him is almost as satisfying as my own orgasm.
“I love you,malen’ka ptshashka.” Pressing his head to mine, I get lost in the emotions displayed in his typically stoic eyes. There’s a sheen of tears there that I don’t understand.
Caressing my hands up and down his heaving chest, I lick across my lips, touching his with the tip of my tongue. “I love you more than I ever thought I could, my husband, my love, my Dez.”
Stroking the hair back from my face, he stares into my eyes forever until the children come banging on the door, expressing their enthusiasm for the holiday and begging us to join them to open presents.
It’s my first Christmas with a family who loves each other. My excitement won’t be contained by Dez’s protests to keep me in bed all day to make love. I compromise and tell him he can dress me in whatever he wants—something we discovered he likes a lot—open presents, and then come back to our room to indulge until dinner is ready. After that, we’ll hole up until neither of us can breathe or walk right.
And so, we do. Our entire day is filled with enjoying family while sneaking off to get our fill of each other before making another appearance for a few hours and then running away again. For days, we do this until finally, on New Year’s Eve, Dez confesses that my father and Yosyp are still somehow alive in a shed at the back of the property, hanging on by a thread.
He gives me the option to see them; I decline. Then he asks what I’d like done with them. I don’t ask what condition they’re in; I overheard Petro telling Anton and Vasyl how bad they were a few days before the holidays.
Cupping Dez’s face in my hands, I search his eyes for any indication of what he’d prefer before pulling him down so I can kiss him. “Kill them,” I say after taking my fill, and I’m lighter for it.
Knowing that the two men who spent my whole life making me miserable are about to die is all I need to let go of my past and fully embrace my future.
Starting with plans to work out what happened with my mother as a child. I cried for days when Dez brought that up. Reminding me of the terror I’d felt from the woman who brought me into this world. I didn’t realize it before, but it’s that one day, those actions from her, from me, that I began cutting when I was old enough to figure out a way to handle the massive emotions I was always feeling.
Despite living in a constant state of fear from my father and Yosyp, killing my mother was the catalyst to what began breaking me. The more I cut, the longer I continued doing it, the worse I was feeling.
