The Professor's Green Card Marriage (Dreamspun Desires Book 98)

by Heidi Cullinan

  The look Valentyn gave him stole his breath. “We are. But first, shopping.” He swatted Peter’s bottom lightly. “Clothes, please.”

  Peter dressed clumsily, slowly coming out of his sensual haze. Once he had his jeans on, though, Valentyn’s hands were all over him again, his lips grazing the nape of Peter’s neck. He also caught Peter’s hand and kept it captive in his as they left the condo and traveled down the elevator, then took it up once more when they were settled in the car.

  Valentyn’s thumb had Peter hypnotized, dragging across the back of his hand, along his own thumb, and over his knuckles. The constant touch kept Peter half-hard and slightly unfocused, under Valya’s spell. When they parked in the dark recesses of the Gondola Parking Garage, however, Valentyn’s hand went traveling and found the evidence of how much he affected his husband.

  “Valechko!” Peter gripped his husband’s arm but somehow couldn’t bring himself to push the hand away.

  Valentyn kissed his lips softly. “Be a good boy, Petrush. We have a long day ahead of us.” Then he let go, got out of the car, and came around to open Peter’s door while he was still trying to recover.

  Peter’s legs trembled a little as the attendant helped them into the gondola. Tucking under the provided blanket, he snuggled against his husband and watched the mountain path bloom before them.

  When he felt Valentyn’s hand nudging to slide inside the back of his jeans, he gasped but didn’t push him away, only whimpered as cool fingers teased his waist and the globe of his ass. “You don’t like displays in public, you said.”

  “I don’t. But teasing you in ways only you and I know about in public is another matter entirely.”

  “I don’t know that I want to jerk off in a gondola, though.”

  Valentyn pinched Peter’s hip. “No coming for you until tonight.”

  Peter groaned as Valentyn’s hand slid deeper to palm his ass. “Do you intend to torture me like this all day?”

  Valentyn’s chuckle was dark. “I intend to tease you in many, many ways, Petrush. You did tell me you wanted me to show you my unleashed side.”

  He had said that, hadn’t he? Peter tipped his head back and tried to ride out the sensation of being fondled in a gondola. Valentyn’s hands were skilled, though, and the slow deliberation of his touch made Peter moan softly.

  A kiss against his cheek as Valentyn’s hand shifted to the front of his jeans, which had somehow come undone. “Yes, koshenya. More sounds like this.”

  Leaning into Valentyn’s hand, Peter let go to the sensation of being fondled until they neared the next stop and his husband did up his clothes, shifting to only placing a hand on his shoulder. He stumbled a bit as they exited the car, but Valentyn righted him.

  They had a cup of coffee and watched the skiers get ready to hit the slopes, but all Peter could think about was that they had another gondola ride ahead of them, another chance for Valentyn to have his way with him. That was exactly what happened as they boarded again and settled into their seats to ride down into town—except this time Valentyn upped the ante.

  “Take out your cock for me, Petrush.”

  A rush of excitement and fear shot through Peter. The car was made almost entirely of glass, meaning the cars passing them on the opposite side could see everything they were doing. Valentyn had spread the blanket over their lap again, but Peter still felt exposed as he undid the snap and zipper of his jeans and pushed down his underwear enough to free himself.

  “Put my hand on you.”

  Peter’s hand shook as he complied, gasping at the point of contact. He was so aroused now that the merest brush brought him to full mast. Crying out, he clutched at his husband. “I’ve changed my mind. I want to come in a gondola.”

  “No.” Valentyn continued his slow, erotic strokes. “Not until we get home.”

  “Are we going home now?” he asked hopefully.

  Valentyn kissed him with a dark chuckle. “Of course not. We need to go shopping.”

  Peter barely remembered their time in the shopping district, too lost in an aroused fog. Valentyn didn’t do more than touch his elbow inside the stores full of chocolates and candies and souvenirs, but he kept finding moments to press Peter into quiet corners, where he would touch him and kiss him and keep him hovering on the edge.

  Peter was so dizzy with overstimulation he forgot to care about the other people around them. He didn’t speak, but he had no reason to. It didn’t matter that he couldn’t interact with other people right now. He had Valentyn anchoring him. He didn’t need anything else.

  “We should go skiing tomorrow,” Valentyn remarked as they headed back to the gondolas.

  Peter nodded, leaning into him. “Mmmm.”

  Valentyn chuckled and drew him closer. “Would you like to go back to the condo now?”

  Yes, but…. After checking to ensure no one was around them, he leaned in to Valentyn’s ear. “I like the teasing. I feel like I’m floating.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.” Valentyn put an arm around Peter’s waist. “I have much more planned for you once we’re done here.”

  All at once, Peter wanted to go back to the condo immediately.

  It was getting dark by the time they boarded the gondola for the trip back, and this time Peter put his hand on Valentyn, stroking him boldly through his trousers. With a sexy murmur in Ukrainian, Valya returned the favor. When they finally returned to the parking garage, it was difficult to tell who was more eager to get to the car and back to the condo.

  The second they were inside the room, Valentyn pushed Peter against the wall, trapped his hands over his head, and kissed him.

  “You’re going to strip for me,” Valentyn whispered against his mouth. “Then I’ll fuck you until you’re limp, until you can barely catch your breath.”

  Peter couldn’t say a word, could only nod.

  He’d never played like this, ever. Never let himself be kissed until he couldn’t stand, never gasped as someone told him in two languages what a luscious fruit his ass was, how much it begged to be eaten. He’d never followed someone to a bedroom with the full intent of giving them a sexual show.

  What made him dizzy was how languid Valentyn was, as if he had all the time in the world. Valentyn lingered over Peter’s nipples, teasing them through his shirt while stroking Peter’s hip.

  “Please,” Peter whispered, arching toward him.

  Valentyn made no response except to let him go and take his place in a chair on the far side of the room. Crossing his foot over his knee, he put his arms on either side of the chair and leaned back. “Strip for me, koshenya.”

  Peter hesitated a moment, suddenly unsure. He liked the hard way Valentyn looked at him, as if he were the most delicious item on the menu and he couldn’t wait to eat him. He still felt self-conscious about stripping down, even though Valya had seen him naked more times than he could count.

  “Your shirt, koshenya. Take it off.”

  Falling back into the trance, Peter did, and let it fall to the floor.

  “Very good. Now your jeans, and your underwear, and your socks. But go slowly so I can enjoy.”

  Peter obeyed, his gaze never leaving his husband’s as the cool air of the room hit more and more of his skin. His body hummed now, hovering on the edge of arousal and terror.

  “Turn around, bend over, and spread your legs.”

  This command startled Peter a little, but he did as he was told, his skin breaking out in goose bumps as he exposed himself. Good God, Valentyn could see all of him. What did he look like, staring at Peter like this? He wanted to peek, but he didn’t dare.

  “So beautiful.” Valentyn shifted in his chair. “Now kneel on the bed, keeping your legs wide like that, and finger yourself for me.”

  A jolt ran through Peter, his legs shaking as he moved toward the mattress. He could see a tube of lubricant waiting there for him, and in a trance he opened it, greased his fingers, and reached around to his backside.

  “Yes,
very good,” Valentyn said as Peter slipped a finger inside himself. “But spread your legs more and push faster. Yes, just like that. More noise, please. Make yourself groan. Ah, yes, mylyy. Add another finger and bend forward.”

  Peter did it all, lost, breathless, so aroused he was in pain. It wasn’t his touch that did it, it was Valentyn’s voice. When he felt a hand on his hip, he startled and cried out, but Valentyn only stroked him and spoke again.

  “Don’t stop. I wanted a closer look at you. Mmm.” He bent and kissed the base of Peter’s spine, letting his breath tickle Peter’s skin. “I can’t wait to fuck you. Long and slow, with your ass turned up like this.”

  Peter couldn’t wait either. He’d never dreamed he could be edged so hard, and he needed to come now. But instead of taking things further, Valentyn let go of him and moved away.

  “Why don’t you lie down while I start dinner?” Valya suggested.

  Peter wasn’t at all hungry, but he’d realized he wasn’t going to get fucked until Valya was doing playing, so he with a whimper, he nodded.

  Valentyn kissed his lower back. “Good boy. Keep playing with yourself for me. And there’s no need for you to be quiet. I like music while I cook.”

  As soon as Valentyn left the room, Peter flopped onto his side, breathing heavily. His whole focus became fingering himself, chasing the edge of his arousal, getting ready to ride the next wave.

  However, at some point a different part of his brain took over. There was no warning, only the slow realization that this was the wildest situation he’d ever been in. Wilder than having sex on the Procaffeination table. More thrilling than the night after their Rocky Mountain National Park date. It wasn’t because this was particularly wild play, though. It was because this was with Valya. With his husband.

  His husband who accepted him for exactly who he was, SM and all. His husband whom he’d proposed to on impulse and married for convenience, but whom Peter could admit now he was deeply, deeply in love with. His husband who would show him his uninhibited side, who would go out of his way to treat Peter with this kind of care and attention. And Peter would perform for him anytime he asked because Peter loved him more than he’d ever loved anyone or anything in his entire life.

  Do you love me the way I love you, Valechko?

  When Valentyn came back into the room, Peter was glad for his return, but out of nowhere, he felt self-conscious.

  What will I do if he doesn’t feel the same way as me? What if I’m the only one so caught up in us I can’t breathe? What if he doesn’t really mean it when he says he loves me?

  It was more serious than that, though. It wasn’t just that Peter couldn’t take a full breath as Valentyn stroked his face. For the first time in months, as he faced his husband, he couldn’t speak.

  Oh no. This was what had happened with his other lovers. Just like this, no warning, no context. He was going to go wooden—now, of all times? With no warning he was going to—

  His thoughts were cut off as abruptly he was on Valentyn’s lap, his husband holding him close as he regarded him with concern.

  “Petrush, what’s happened?” He didn’t wait for an answer, only swore in Ukrainian as he stroked him all over. “This is my fault. I took things too far. I’m sorry. Can you forgive me?”

  No, no—that wasn’t what happened at all. Peter wanted to tell him this, but without warning, his speech had fled from him. He felt his expression going wooden too.

  No, no, this isn’t what I want! I want to tell him….

  Except Peter couldn’t go on. What did he want to tell him?

  Valentyn let him go, settling him on the bed and drawing a blanket over him. “I’m so sorry, mylyy. I’ll give you a moment alone.”

  I don’t want you to go! But Peter couldn’t say this, couldn’t even reach for his husband.

  The second he was alone, he curled into a ball and started to cry. How could it be back? With Valentyn of all people? How could he make all this progress and then suddenly regress? Had he just ruined their entire getaway? Had he ruined their whole marriage?

  No, no, no….

  The door to the bedroom opened again, sending the sharp smell of cigarettes wafting through the space. Valentyn stood in the doorway, looking as unsettled as Peter felt.

  “I’m so sorry.” Valentyn’s accent was thick as he spoke, not moving from where he stood. “I know I need to give you space to calm down, but I have to tell you some things first.” He looked down at the carpet, his shoulders shaking. “I can’t even stay away long enough to smoke. All I can think about is that I might have ruined everything with you.”

  Peter remained still in the bed, staring intently at his husband.

  His breath caught as Valentyn fell to his knees.

  Still keeping his gaze down, Valentyn continued to speak, his voice ragged. “I never want to hurt you. I couldn’t. I would do anything for you, Petrush.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I kept telling myself I could keep my distance, that I could care for you and be grateful to you for your help, but I could keep part of myself safe in case this didn’t work. I can’t. Sometime during these past months my goal changed. I want to be a US citizen still, but I want it so I can stay with you. I want to be married to you. I’ll be whatever you need me to be, mylyy, only please—”

  He stopped talking, because Peter had risen from the bed and come to kneel on the floor before him, taking Valentyn into his arms.

  Valentyn clutched him desperately. “I’m so sorry.”

  Peter drew slow breaths, walking himself out of his panic and focusing on finding his words. “It’s… okay.”

  A hot press of lips into his hair. “It’s never okay for me to scare you.”

  Peter shook his head. Words. Find the words. “I… s-scared myself.” He held tight to his husband. “Worried… I l-loved you too m-much.”

  Valentyn murmured a string of something in Ukrainian as he buried his hand into Peter’s hair. “That’s nothing you ever need to be frightened of. Because I’ll always love you more.”

  Relief bleeding off him, Peter nuzzled Valentyn’s neck. “I liked playing,” he whispered. “I w-want to play again.”

  “Then we’ll play as much as you want.” Valentyn’s hands smoothed over Peter’s naked back. “I wanted to give you a long, slow massage, wanted to tease your skin with soft gloves. Show you what wicked things I can do with my tongue and your ass.”

  Peter’s dick was becoming rapidly erect. “Yes,” Peter whispered.

  Valentyn shook his head. “I can’t, not yet. Because if I don’t make love to you right now, I think I’m going to die.”

  Peter had no arguments with that either.

  Their dinner went cold on the counter as Valentyn stripped out of his clothes, worked more lube into Peter, then dragged him over his body to ride him as they fell onto the mattress. As the fireworks exploded against the night sky, their multicolored echoes lighting up the bedroom, Peter knelt astride his husband, heart full as he worked himself up and down, driving them both to ecstasy.

  “ kohaû tebe,” Peter whispered, unable to hold it inside any longer.

  Valentyn pulled Peter’s face to his and kissed him deeply. “I love you more.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  IN late January, they received notice their marriage interview would happen in March.

  Valentyn immediately made an appointment with Kevin, who asked the two of them to review the packet he’d sent them once their marriage had been filed, then ran through it with them personally when Valentyn and Peter came to see him the following week.

  “You’ll want to go through the questions and make sure you’re on the same page. And never be shy about asking for clarification on anything they’re asking.” Kevin laced his fingers together and rested them on the desk. “I’ll be there with you per your request, and I can attend the interview or interviews with you.”

  Peter frowned at this and glanced at Valentyn in concern. “More than one interview?”
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  Kevin nodded. “There’s always a possibility of a Stokes interview, meaning you’ll be interviewed separately to compare your answers. With your short courtship, you should be ready for it. Usually they tell you when they send your notification of interview, but sometimes they don’t.”

  All color drained from Peter’s face, and he abruptly shut down.

  Valentyn put a hand on his husband’s arm, massaging gently. “It’s all right. We’ll meet with Kevin every week so you get used to him as much as possible.”

  It took Peter a moment to respond. “Expensive,” he whispered at last.

  “This is worth the money,” Valentyn countered.

  “I also wanted to talk to you about that,” Kevin said. “I think it’d be a good idea to bring as many doctors’ notes as you can to explain your condition. I’ll vouch for you too, but the government does love its paper. If you end up unable to speak as freely as you need to, this will explain why.”

  On the way back to Boulder, Peter was a ball of nerves. “I’m going to be the reason we fail the interview.”

  Valentyn never let go of his hand. “We’ll practice every day. It’ll be fine.”

  “It won’t matter how much I practice if I freeze up. I’ll be shouting the answers inside my head, unable to get them past my lips.”

  “Then we’ll practice having different people interview you, first people you know, then people you don’t. We’ll give you the best outcome possible.”

  They did rehearse, constantly. They’d already gone over all the questions together and discussed their answers, sometimes learning more about each other than they’d known before, such as when they came to the question about children.

  Valentyn had glanced worriedly at his husband. “It never occurred to me that you might want children, but now I feel foolish for assuming this. Do you want children?”

  Peter shrugged. “I wouldn’t mind keeping the door open, but it’s not a hard goal for me. It’s win-win either way. I get to have a larger, different kind of family, or I get to spend my time focusing on you. How do I lose?”