156

[REBECCA]
The gentle creak of the door being pushed open roused me from my slumber, coaxing me out of the realm of dreams and into the waking world.
There, in the dimly lit room, Artemy’s figure materialized by the bedside. While shrouded in darkness, he wasn’t invisible to me; I sensed his presence keenly, as if attuned to his very essence.
His hand didn’t reach out to touch me, an action I had anticipated, a caress I had hoped for, but it never came. Artemy hovered in silence, while I feigned sleep, my eyes sealed shut in anticipation.
A subtle shift in the atmosphere betrayed his movement, compelling me to open my eyes. And there he was, retreating from my gaze, his departure tugging at my heartstrings like a melancholic symphony.
An almost suffocating weight settled upon the air around us. Artemy’s shoulders hunched, a posture that spoke of an unseen agony. His pain resonated within me; his suffering was a mirror of my own.
He retreated into the bathroom, a door closing softly behind him. I waited, counting the seconds that ticked by, my longing to touch, to hold him, growing like an itch beneath my skin.
Finally, the restlessness grew unbearable, compelling me to cast aside the covers and rise from the bed. The act itself had grown laborious, the transition from lying down to standing up now a deliberate effort.
Stepping noiselessly, I made my way to the bathroom door. My hand hovered over the knob, a silent debate waged within me, a clash between respecting his solitude and surrendering to the yearning of my heart.
Reason implored me to grant him privacy, but the pulse of my heart clamored for closeness. The latter prevailed, urging me forward, into the realm where Artemy wrestled with his demons.
He stood before me, his back turned, aware of my entrance yet immobile. His hands pressed against the cool bathroom walls, his head bowed in quiet torment. The shirt he wore earlier was discarded, damp patches the telltale signs of something amiss.
My eyes traced the water cascading around him, rivulets carving paths through his skin. Stripping off my dress, it pooled on the floor, my gaze then drawn to his abandoned shirt black, a hue that seemed synonymous with him.
My lips moistened involuntarily as I noticed the dampness, though not of water. I couldn’t discern the color, but a sinking realization painted a vivid image in my mind: blood.
Surprisingly, disgust didn’t rear its head. How could it, when the man before me was Artemy Loskutov? A complex tapestry woven from disparate threads a monster, a ruthless killer, and yet, my tender lover. I embraced each facet, for they were all him, and he was the man I loved.
With a steadying breath, I entered the shower, the chill of the water urging me to turn the tap toward warmth. My fingers met his cold flesh, our bodies closing the gap between us. “Artemy,” I uttered softly, seeking to bridge the silence that enveloped him.
He remained motionless, stubbornly avoiding my gaze. “Artemy, look at me,” I implored, my voice an echo of longing.
Pressing himself more firmly against the wall, he seemed anchored by some internal struggle. The word “please” escaped my lips like a plea, a desperate call for connection.
At the sound, he pivoted, his eyes locking onto mine. His expression bore the weight of unspoken battles fought within. Without words, I cupped his cheeks, my lips finding his skin in a gentle cascade of kisses.
Each kiss carried my love, a silent testament to what words couldn’t convey. I held him, my touch a language of its own, an expression of my unwavering affection.
Rising onto tiptoes, I bestowed kisses upon his closed eyelids and then his forehead. A shuddering breath escaped him, shoulders slumping as if in surrender.
Drawing him into an embrace, my burgeoning belly a minor obstruction, I nestled my head upon his chest. The rhythmic cadence of his heart thrummed against my ear, and I placed a tender kiss over its steady beat.
“I missed you, Artemy,” the admission slipped from my lips, unguarded and true. Fingertips traced his skin with a gentle reverence as his arms enveloped me, binding us together in an embrace that transcended words.
His breath rushed from his chest in a forceful gust as he enfolded me in his arms, pressing my form against his own. I could feel the warmth of his lips grazing my earlobe as he spoke in a fervent whisper, the intensity of his emotions evident in his tone. “I love you, Angel,” his words carried a raw urgency. “I love you so profoundly.”
His profession of love set my heart aflutter, a surge of elation coursing through me in response. A serene smile, suffused with contentment, graced my lips as I eased back slightly from our embrace. Tenderly, I cupped his face in my hands, drawing myself nearer until the distance between our lips was mere inches.
The meeting of our mouths was akin to the ignition of fireworks, a breathtaking spectacle of sensations. The connection was electric, a fusion of energies that felt magical as our lips moved in sync. I poured my passion into the kiss, an unhurried dance of intimacy. Initially unhurried and deep, our tongues engaged in a harmonious tango.
A deep rumble of longing escaped Artemy’s lips, his ardor escalating as he deepened the kiss further. He guided the tilt of my head, his lips transitioning to playful nips against mine. My fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer in a fervent embrace.
Determined to convey the depths of my affection, I resolved to show Artemy the extent of my devotion. Amidst the cascade of our harsh breaths, we relinquished the kiss, the shower’s water serving as a backdrop to our shared moment. Artemy leaned in for another kiss, yet I took a step back, an impish smile tugging at my lips. When my hands traveled to his belt, his brows knit in a quizzical frown.
“Allow me to care for you,” I murmured, commencing the process of lowering his pants. He complied wordlessly, raising his feet to facilitate the removal of his garments, leaving them discarded on the side. Once done, I rose to my feet again.
Curiosity danced within Artemy’s eyes, the usual shade of blue darkened by emotion. “What are you planning?” he inquired, enfolding me in his embrace.
“You seldom let me reciprocate,” I whispered, stifling his potential protest with a swift kiss. His stunned gaze met mine, and I couldn’t help but flash a knowing, almost playful smile. I possessed the power to render him wordless.
Lathering soap in my palm, I embarked on the task of cleansing his body, leaving no inch untouched. Despite his attempts to dissuade me, a determined glance was all it took to persist. With his form now under the cascade of water, I lavished care on his skin, my hands caressing him with gentleness and reverence. Our fingers entwined, and I raised our conjoined hands to my lips, sealing the gesture with a tender kiss before attending to my own cleansing.
Throughout the ritual, Artemy’s intense gaze remained unwavering, his focus a testament to his affection. Completion prompted me to step out, towel in hand. Artemy followed my lead, and I proceeded to dry him meticulously, met with an uncharacteristic silence. He reciprocated the gesture, and as I attempted to halt him, a fervent kiss quelled my objections, the pressure of his lips leaving me aflame and yearning.
Hand in hand, we left the bathroom, progressing towards the bed. With a gentle push, Artemy found himself reclined, his expression a mix of curiosity and anticipation. A raised eyebrow conveyed a question, yet silence prevailed, our world momentarily confined to just us.
Lying down beside him, I felt his lips descend once more, our mouths fusing in a passionate embrace. His tongue traced the contour of my lips, a demand that I eagerly met. Each passing moment heightened the fervor, a delicious ache building within me.
His tongue ventured into my mouth, seeking the mingling of our desires. My hands found their way to his head, fingers threading through his hair as I drew him nearer. The kiss persisted, a backdrop to his hand’s journey along my thigh, urging my legs apart. A gasp was stifled by his kiss, a yearning sound that was met with a deeper press of his lips against mine.
My nails dug into his shoulders, a moan of pleasure slipping from me. He reciprocated, his groan an echo of my own as he nipped at my lips with a tender intensity. When his hand ventured between my legs, teasingly caressing my inner thigh and drawing closer to my core, the kiss was broken. My heartbeat echoed fiercely, my chest heaving with rapid breaths.
Artemy’s lips found my neck, a trail of kisses marking their path. Nips and bites, gentle yet possessive, elicited a mixture of pleasure and tingling sensation. His hand shifted my legs further apart, anticipation pulsating through me. He shifted atop me, his body aligning with mine, his lower torso finding its place between my thighs.
I became acutely aware of his solid length pressed against my moist center, causing my eyes to snap open. His lips continued their damp journey, tracing wet kisses along my breasts.
With my hands planted firmly on his shoulders, I exerted a gentle but insistent push. “No.”
Artemy’s eyes immediately flew open, registering a mixture of surprise and shock. Undeterred, I pushed again, the huskiness in my voice emphasizing my refusal. “No.”
His eyes flickered, displaying first a hint of shock, then a glint of disappointment, and finally, a touch of self-directed disgust.
Artemy let out a vehement oath, hastily shifting his body away from mine. “Damn it! Shit. I’m so sorry, Rebecca. Damn it! I didn’t consider. I shouldn’t have pressured you for more.”
Observing him berate himself for an error that hadn’t transpired, my heart tightened. Shaking my head, I cupped his cheeks, redirecting his attention to me.
“No, that’s not what I meant. Cease this self-reproach when you’ve done nothing wrong,” I comforted softly, my fingers tracing over his rough facial hair.
As he opened his mouth to respond, I gently guided him onto his back. Artemy’s lips sealed shut, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed nervously. “What are you doing, Rebecca?”
“Taking care of you,” I responded simply.
As I shifted my body over his, comprehension dawned in his widened eyes. “You don’t…”
I silenced him with a purposeful kiss, my hands embarking on a journey down his abdomen toward his unyielding arousal. It lay against his lower belly, firm and unyielding.
My fingers encircled his hardness. Artemy inhaled sharply, our kiss breaking in the process.
A spark ignited in his eyes as my grip tightened around him. “Rebecca,” he groaned, and a sense of satisfaction enveloped me. The ease with which I affected him was exhilarating.
I stroked his rigid length, captivated by the sight of Artemy, the seemingly unflinching enforcer, unraveling under my touch.
His jaw clenched, breaths escaping in increasingly labored bursts. Despite the throbbing ache between my own thighs, I pushed aside my own desire.
A guttural sound escaped his slightly parted lips when my thumb brushed over the sensitive tip. His body remained tense as I continued the rhythmic motion, gradually quickening the pace.
Glancing downward, I watched my hand glide over his swelling arousal. I bit my lip, the sensation intensifying the ache between my legs.
The gentle creak of the door being pushed open roused me from my slumber, coaxing me out of the realm of dreams and into the waking world.
There, in the dimly lit room, Artemy’s figure materialized by the bedside. While shrouded in darkness, he wasn’t invisible to me; I sensed his presence keenly, as if attuned to his very essence.
His hand didn’t reach out to touch me, an action I had anticipated, a caress I had hoped for, but it never came. Artemy hovered in silence, while I feigned sleep, my eyes sealed shut in anticipation.
A subtle shift in the atmosphere betrayed his movement, compelling me to open my eyes. And there he was, retreating from my gaze, his departure tugging at my heartstrings like a melancholic symphony.
An almost suffocating weight settled upon the air around us. Artemy’s shoulders hunched, a posture that spoke of an unseen agony. His pain resonated within me; his suffering was a mirror of my own.
He retreated into the bathroom, a door closing softly behind him. I waited, counting the seconds that ticked by, my longing to touch, to hold him, growing like an itch beneath my skin.
Finally, the restlessness grew unbearable, compelling me to cast aside the covers and rise from the bed. The act itself had grown laborious, the transition from lying down to standing up now a deliberate effort.
Stepping noiselessly, I made my way to the bathroom door. My hand hovered over the knob, a silent debate waged within me, a clash between respecting his solitude and surrendering to the yearning of my heart.
Reason implored me to grant him privacy, but the pulse of my heart clamored for closeness. The latter prevailed, urging me forward, into the realm where Artemy wrestled with his demons.