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  "How does it feel, Kyrie?"

  "Jesus, Roth. It feels good. Too good."

  "Does it hurt?"

  "A little," I admitted. "But don't stop."

  "Can you take it, love?"

  I touched myself, fingers circling my clit, bringing myself closer, closer, but then Roth stopped me, the vibrator buzzing, touching me with it. I took it from him, pressed the tip of the wildly vibrating dildo to my clit and felt stars detonate within me. Roth was utterly still, half-impaled inside me, but I felt him trembling. Needing. Waiting. I arched my back and slid the vibrator into my opening, and now I was so full, full to the point of aching. I could feel his cock rubbing against the dildo, a thin veil of skin separating them, and I was coming so hard it hurt, coming so hard I was crying with it, unable to do anything but slide the device in and out of me, letting the smaller secondary part of the dildo hit my clit just so, just there. Again. Again.

  And then I felt Roth spank me, and when I cried out he filled me yet further, pushing himself deeper into my asshole with a slow glide, his hips now meeting the flesh of my buttocks.

  "Can you take it, Kyrie?" His voice was guttural, frantic, on the edge of control.

  "Fuck me, Valentine," I murmured, pushing back against him.

  Oh god. It hurt so good. So deep. So much. So full.

  And then...he withdrew. Ever so slowly. Just a fraction, but it had me gritting my teeth and shrieking into the bed, gripping the sheets in shaking fists...this wasn't an orgasm, this was raw pleasure, a thread of pain to make it potent, a fullness that couldn't be properly described, so much of him, all of my Valentine throbbing inside me.

  "Jesus, Kyrie, you're so tight it almost hurts. So perfect." He pushed back in. "God...love--your asshole is so perfect. How does this feel?"

  I couldn't even speak. I hung my head and bit the silk sheet between my teeth and grunted, arching my back and writhing--more, I was telling him, shouting it, screaming it nonverbally.

  "You like it?"

  "God--fuck--yes!" I managed, my voice hoarse, raspy, needing so badly to scream like a banshee but holding it back.

  And then he moved again. A slow slide, and I could feel the width of his cock scraping against the taut muscle of my asshole, each stutter of flesh against flesh making me shake and gasp. Oh--fuck. Fuck. He was pushing in, slowly. So slowly. Glacial thrusts, but nonstop now, drawing out...out...and out--and then...back in...fucking me slowly. Fucking my ass with all the gentleness he possessed, but his hands, oh his hands, they gripped my hips with bruising force. As if the grip of his fingers in the crease of my hips was all that prevented him from drilling me so hard I'd break.

  "Fuck, Kyrie. I can't take it, love. I need to fuck. I need to move."

  "Valentine..." I didn't know what to say.

  I wanted that. But I didn't think I could take it. Not because I was afraid he'd hurt me. No, this felt so good, so perfect, months of anal play gradually stretching me until I was prepared to take all of him like this. I was afraid if he fucked me like he so clearly needed to that the orgasm would just wreck me, would ruin me, would shatter me beyond repair.

  Another slow--ssssslllloooowwww--withdrawal, and an even slower thrust back in, so I could feel him enter, feel myself stretched further open as the wide hilt of his huge cock filled me. And then he was leaning over me, chest pressed to my back, hands sliding under to cup my breasts, and he was gasping, heaving, growling in his chest.

  "Roth--" I gasped.

  "I'm right there, Kyrie. I can't--I need to go slow." He sounded...shredded...as if his control was being sorely tested, more so than it had ever been before.

  Of all the sex we'd had up to this point, and there had been a lot, I'd never heard him so clearly, audibly shaken by the potency of it all. I'd held him as he cried, yes. I'd fucked him and made love to him when he was an emotional wreck after what Gina had done to him. But that was all different. This was my Valentine needing to fuck yet holding back for me, holding back from what he wanted, which was utterly unlike him. He took what he wanted, from me and from life, and never slowed down or held back.

  But this was different.

  "Fuck me, Roth." I reached out and grabbed a pillow, stuffed it under my stomach, drew my knees further forward, pushed back into him, driving him deeper in the process. "Just fuck me. I need it. I can take it. Just--Jesus god, just fuck me."

  He straightened behind me, stilled. I felt him breathing, gathering himself. Felt his hands on my back, smoothing down my spine, caressing the globes of my ass, pulling them apart and groaning as he pushed deeper. I could only breathe and moan and grip the bedding. And then, oh god. He pulled out. Almost all the way. Squirted yet more lube on his cock, slid in, pulled out, applied more still, and now he was pushing in and out in tiny flutters, miniature thrusts, and I was driven mad. I'd forgotten about the vibrator as I concentrated on taking in all of Valentine, and now I fumbled for it, found it on the mattress under the pillow, turned it up so it was vibrating on high, touched it to my clit, screamed into the pillow, slid it out, gasping, making a shrieking, breathless sound.

  Roth fucked me, a little harder now. A little faster.

  I touched my clit again, and was clenched all over by a wracking wave. But still, this wasn't an orgasm. Not really. I slid the thick pink dildo--which I'd taken in the ass before, since it was smaller than Roth by a good bit--into my pussy and fucked myself with it. Slowly, at first, but then faster and faster, gasping, arching, writhing into it, letting the clitoral stimulator buzz against me. Roth couldn't hold back now, and was moving in earnest, grinding in and out of me, and it was so much, so good, so incredible I didn't want it to ever stop. I wanted to let him fuck me like this forever.

  He had my hips in his hands again, tugging, and now slid one hand to the base of my spine, pressed the heel of his palm to my tailbone and gripped the crease of my hip in the other hand and I felt his hips slapping against my ass cheeks and felt his cock slam in deep and his thighs brush against the backs of mine. He was pushing and pulling, pushing and pulling with his hands, grunting, driving toward his own orgasm.

  I felt him thicken inside me.

  I felt him quicken.

  I matched the now-relentless driving pace of his cock in my ass with the vibrator in my pussy. I was so full and being so thoroughly fucked, harder and harder now, that it was almost impossible to be able to even breathe.

  "Kyrie--"

  "Fuck..." I gasped.

  "Shit, Kyrie. I'm there, love, I'm--oh, ohhhhh fuck...."

  And he came, before he could even formulate the words. I felt it, felt him gush into the condom, felt him thicken yet more. I groaned and moved with him as he fucked me, moving the dildo in synch with his pace.

  Everything stopped, then, as he came. My blood turned to fire, my muscles--all 640-some of them--contracted and pulsed, and my cunt squeezed and my asshole contracted and I writhed like a madwoman, bit the sheets and screamed as an orgasm unlike anything in my life ripped through me, and Roth kept fucking, fucking, fucking, pushing me through the climax until I was quivering and moaning and crying. And then I came once more, and then again in an unending cycle. I barely knew what was happening as wave after wave of nuclear-powered climax exploded through me, and in me.

  As the aftershocks hit me like earthquakes, each one a wracking orgasm in its own right, I felt Roth pull out of me as slowly and carefully as he'd pushed in, by gradual degrees, tenderly.

  When he was out of me, I collapsed to my side, tears sliding down my cheeks. I felt him get up and heard him discard the condom, and then he was in bed with me, cradling me against his warm broad chest.

  "Jesus, Kyrie. I still can't breathe right, I came so hard."

  I curled into him. Gripped the back of his neck, lying completely on top of him, pressing my lips to his throat. "Valentine, I don't--I don't even have words for what that was."

  "You're okay, though?"

  I lifted up enough that he could see my eyes, and see that I
spoke the truth. "So much more than okay. I loved it, loved everything about it, but I don't think we can do that very often. It was just...so fucking intense I don't think I could handle it every time."

  "It was incredible. But yeah, not all the time."

  We were quiet for a while, in the special place where we needed no words. We weren't sleeping, just utterly content in each other, holding on, breathing, skin to skin, heartbeat to heartbeat.

  And then I felt his cock under my belly, hardening.

  Still we needed no words. I reached between us and stroked him to life, slid him into my slit, fed him inch by inch into my pussy. I pressed my lips to his throat, crushed my hips to his, laying on top of him, my thighs gripping his sides. I took his face in my palms and turned it to mine and kissed him breathless, fucked him senseless, riding him until he was crazed and I was gasping and sweating, kissing him all the while, until we were writhing in utter synchronicity, right to the edge. And then, moments before we came, I went still. I pressed him onto the bed, stopping him. I held him down, my hands on his shoulders. I sat upright and looked at him.

  "Look at me, Valentine," I said. He rested his hands on my thighs, and his eyes went to mine. "Don't move."

  Sitting upright, his cock filling me, his beautiful blue eyes on mine, I rode Valentine slowly, rocking on him, grinding on him, bracing myself with my palms at the V of my thighs. I rolled my hips in broad, wide circles, lifting so he was almost out, sitting on him so he was fully in, stretching him away from his body, riding, riding, riding.

  Sweat coated his gloriously muscled body in a sheen, and he fought to remain still.

  I felt him nearing the edge, and slowed. I waited, holding him stretched away so he couldn't release. I waited some more until he tensed, until he was shaking all over with need. I touched my clit with one finger while he watched, holding us still, fluttering so he wouldn't lose the edge of near-orgasm. I fingered myself--

  And then I came, falling forward, flinging my arms around his neck and writhing as he spurted his seed into me, flooding me with his wet heat, and we were groaning, mouths sloppily seeking and kissing, until there was only the orgasm still detonating in both of us, simultaneously.

  When at long last the waves and shudders ceased, Roth pulled out of me. He rose and padded to the bathroom for a towel, came back and rolled me onto my back, parted my folds with gentle fingers and cleaned me with the towel, and then climbed back in bed next to me.

  Another long, drowsy, lazy, sated silence ensued, both of us utterly spent.

  My mind wandered and I wondered idly if we'd made port yet, but decided I didn't care.

  His voice rumbled, my ear to his chest. "I was going to make it a surprise, but I've decided against that."

  "Make what a surprise?" I asked.

  "The reason we're going back to the States."

  "Which is?"

  A pause. "Well, business aside...it's for us."

  "First, what's the business aspect of the trip?"

  "I'm selling off a bunch of holdings and properties. Including the tower in Manhattan. I'm liquidating a bunch of assets and I've got to be there to finalize the sales."

  "You're selling the tower?"

  He nodded. "Yep. It's time. I want to build a place together, you and me. Somewhere that's ours." A sigh. "Plus, we're going to need a ready flow of cash for...preparations, I guess you could say."

  "Be clear, Roth. Explain what you mean by 'preparations'."

  "Staying off the grid properly and effectively is a difficult thing to do. Even more so when you're as wealthy as I am. See, most of my capital is...imaginary, essentially. It's real, in the business sense and in the business world, where I have contacts at every bank, all over the world. But if you want to be off the grid, investment properties and net worth are meaningless. Cash is king, out here. And being worth tens of billions of dollars is no good to me unless I can convert it to cash, or make it readily available in cash. But, especially in the quantities I'm going to need, that is hard to do. As for why?" Roth paused, his hand idly caressing my side. "Honestly, Vitaly is still a very real threat to me, to us. He's out there somewhere, waiting, biding his time. He's a big venomous spider with a very elaborate web, just waiting for us to set one of his strands to vibrating. I need to find a way for us to vanish entirely, or I've got to take him out. Neither proposition is easy."

  "Which approach are you leaning towards?" I asked.

  "Vanishing, to be honest. Not because I want to run away from him, but because I'm smart enough, and know him well enough, to know I'm not entirely willing to start a war. And that's what it would take. Now that Gina is dead and he realizes his sanctum can be assaulted, he's going to be on high alert. And he has access to many, many times more men and weapons than I do. I'm worth more, financially, but he's a wily old fox with a network like no one else in the world. To go after him, to try and kill him...it would take a full-on war." He touched my chin, and I craned my neck to look up at him. "There's been enough bloodshed."

  I nodded. "Yes, there has. I'll go where you go, and I'll support whatever you decide to do. I just...I don't want to spend my life being afraid, either."

  "So, you'd go after him, then?" Roth seemed surprised.

  I took a moment to think. "I've had a taste of death. The thought of going through anything like that again makes me sick. Seeing you or Layla or Harris get hurt...I'm not sure I could handle that. But at the same time, I'm not willing to run away from him for the rest of my life. I'd rather make a stand, or even go after him if that's what it takes. I'll shoot him myself, if I have to. I've done it once, I can do it again."

  "Well, let's hope it doesn't come to that. I've got some ideas, which is why we're heading up to the States."

  I rested my chin on his chest; stared up at his piercing blue eyes. "You said there was another reason we are heading back to the States, one that has to do with us."

  He took my hand in his, my left hand, the one with the two-carat diamond engagement ring, his thumb nudging the ring side to side on my finger. "It's been six months since I proposed. I think it's time to do something about that, don't you?"

  "Do something about it?" I felt breathless. "Like what?"

  "Like get married."

  I just stared at him, blinking, thinking, trying to process his suggestion. "Why now?"

  Roth frowned, brow furrowing. "Why not now? I love you more than life itself. I want you to be mine forever. I want you to become Kyrie Roth."

  "Yes, it has been six months, but Vitaly is still out there. I don't know if I could ever really relax knowing that he's still looking for us. We've got Layla here for her own safety, and we've got Harris and his team on high alert on our behalf. I want to get married, I really do, but I'll be with you no matter what. I'll change my name, if that's what you want."

  He blew out a breath, frustrated, confused. "I'm not following, Kyrie. Just a bit ago on the deck you were suggesting a house in the suburbs with kids. Now you're saying you don't want to get married?"

  I sat up, put my back to the headboard, and scraped my thick blond hair backward. "Roth, no, I'm not saying I don't want to. I just want to know why now. Is it what you want, or are you doing it because you think it's what I want?"

  "Both, actually. Does it really matter why, though?"

  "Yes! It really does matter. It's marriage, Roth. It's not something to take lightly."

  He didn't answer right away. "I guess maybe I see it differently. Anyone can get married. It doesn't have to be a big deal. It's just a ceremony, a piece of legal documentation. Unless you make it meaningful, that's all it is."

  I laughed, but it wasn't entirely mirthful. "You're not making any sense. Why do you want to get married if it doesn't mean anything? It seems like you've got your arguments confused."

  He stood up, paced to the window, naked. Even in the midst of what was shaping up to be a pretty serious argument, I couldn't help appreciating his taut, muscular ass, the rippling muscles of his b
ack, his broad shoulders, the fall of his blond hair.

  "I'll admit I didn't see this coming, Kyrie. I thought you'd be all over this. A chance to see home again, maybe get your brother to walk you down to the aisle to me."

  "First, where's home, now? This ship? New York? Detroit? Second, I love Cal, but I'm not sure I want to risk his safety by bringing him within a hundred miles of us and our problems. He's an innocent kid."

  "Home is wherever we are, I suppose. Here on the Eliza, France, New York...but I see your point. As for Cal, Harris has two of his guys in Chicago, keeping tabs on him. I doubt he even knows they're there, but they'll make sure no one else is sniffing around him."

  "I'm relieved to hear that."

  "I told you I'd keep an eye on everyone. I know you've sort of kept your distance from him, for his own safety. And I know that's hard for you. And I just... I hate that you've had to do that because of my problems, because of my past."

  "It's our past now, and our problems. Not just yours. We're in this together." I got out of bed and padded over to him, pressing myself up against his back. "I love you, Valentine. And yes, I want to marry you. However, whenever, wherever. And as long as you can promise me he'll stay safe, I'd love a chance to see Cal."

  "I can't give you a traditional wedding, Kyrie. I can't give you a wedding with your parents on one side and mine on the other, or a little white church, or months and months to make arrangements and compile guest lists."

  I kissed his shoulder. "I don't care. I'm not the kind of girl who's spent her whole life picturing her wedding. I mean, maybe when I was a little girl I thought about it, daydreamed or whatever, but after Dad died, I just...I didn't have time to think about that. I shut it down. It wasn't relevant anymore. And now, with you, I love you and I'm with you, no matter what. Whether we get married or not, whether we have a permanent home or not, it's you and me together. That's all that matters to me. Yeah, I want stability. I'd love a real home, something of ours. But I'm not sure we can have that yet, not while Vitaly is out there, plotting his revenge or whatever it is he's doing. But, if you want to plan us a wedding, I will marry you in a heartbeat. I'd be proud to be Kyrie Roth."