He thrusts in, slowly at first, stretching my pussy until I’m full, gasping at the burn. His muscles flex under my hands, ink curling over his bicep, sweat gleaming on his chest as he moves. From this angle, he’s a goddamn sight, with his broad shoulders rolling, abs tightening with each deep thrust, his thickness vanishing into my wet heat over and over. He leans in and kisses me hard, tongue claiming mine as one hand kneads a breast, pinching my nipple until I moan into his mouth.
“Yes, Vlad,” I moan. “Just like that. Just like that.”
“This pussy’s mine,” he growls, his voice a dark, possessive rumble that sends shivers down my spine. My legs tighten around his waist, pulling him deeper, the friction of his rock-hard cock dragging against my walls sparking fire through every nerve. He shifts, angling just right, my clit throbbing.
“Look at you,” he rasps, eyes locked on mine, dark and hungry. “Taking me like you were made for it.”
I whimper, nails digging into his shoulders, the intensity of his gaze and the relentless rhythm pushing me closer to the edge. His hand slides down, thumb finding my clit, rubbing tight, fast circles that make me clench even harder around him.
“Come for me,kotenok,” he commands, teeth grazing my earlobe. “Let me feel you.”
The pressure builds white-hot, and I shatter, my walls spasming around his cock as I scream, the orgasm tearing through me like a storm. My vision blurs, body trembling, but he doesn’t stop, thrusting through my climax, drawing it out until I’m gasping and boneless against the mirror. He groans, low and primal, his cock twitching inside me, but he holds back, his control iron tight.
“God, you’re perfect,” he murmurs, lips brushing my forehead, a surprising softness in his voice. He pulls out slowly, my body aching at the loss, and sets me down, steadying me as my legs wobble. “We’re not done.” His eyes glint with promise, and before I can catch my breath, he scoops me up and carries me out of the gym, my naked body pressed against his sweat-slick chest.
The penthouse blurs past—moonlit windows, oak staircase—until we’re in his bedroom, a cavern of dark wood and crisp white linens. He lays me on the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight as he looms over me, still hard, cock gleaming with my arousal. “On your knees,” he orders, voice low and commanding, but the warmth in his gaze makes my heart stutter.
I gladly obey, rolling onto my stomach, ass up, heart racing as he kneels behind me. His hands grip my hips, rough palms sliding over my skin. He leans down, lips trailing kisses along my spine, each one soft and deliberate, making my breath hitch.
“You’re mine.”
He spreads my thighs, his cock teasing my entrance before thrusting in, deep and hard, filling me completely. I moan, fisting the sheets, the angle hitting new depths, my pussy stretching around him.
“Fuck, Vlad,” I gasp, pushing back, needing more. He sets a punishing pace as his hand cracks against my ass, a sharp sting that makes me yelp and turns me on even more.
“You like that, don’t you?” he asks, spanking me again, heat spreading through me, amplifying every sensation. “My dirty girl, taking my cock so fucking well.”
I nod, breathless, lost in the rhythm, in the power he holds over me. But then he slows, his thrusts becoming almost tender as his hand slides around, fingers finding my clit again, stroking gently.
“I want you to come again,” he murmurs, lips at my ear, voice soft, pleading. “For me, Teresa.”
The shift undoes me, his dominance blending with care, and I come hard, my pussy pulsing around him, crying out as pleasure crashes through me. He groans, riding my orgasm, then pulls out, flipping me onto my back.
“Not yet,” he says, a wicked smirk curving his lips.
He grabs my hips and pulls me astride him. I sink onto his thickness, gasping as he fills me, my hands braced on his chest, feeling the rapid thud of his heart. His hands grip my hips, guiding me. His eyes are soft, vulnerable, like he’s giving me more than his body.
“Ride me,kotenok. Show me how much you want this.”
I move slowly at first, savoring the stretch, then faster, grinding myself against him, chasing that spark. His hands roam my breasts, my waist, like he’s memorizing me. He sits up, pulling me close and kissing me deeply, tongues tangling as we move together.
I feel him everywhere, not just in my body but in a way I can’t name.
“Vlad,” I whisper. He cups my face, thumb tracing my lip, his gaze so tender it hurts.
“I’ve got you.” He says it like it’s a promise. His hand slips between us, rubbing me where I need him, and I come again,trembling, clinging to him as he follows, shuddering as he drains into me. He thrusts up deep, groaning my name as he comes, his arms locking around me, holding me like I’m his anchor.
We collapse, tangled up together, his lips brushing my temple, his hands stroking my back.
“God, you’re amazing.”
He says it so quietly I almost miss it, and my heart aches, torn between fear and this fierce, growing love. I’ve never felt this before, never had someone see me, claim me, love me like this. But the hit list, the danger, the secrets… they’re still out there, and I don’t know if I can trust this feeling, even as I melt into his arms, desperately wanting it to be real.
Morning sunlight stripes the sheets. The space next to me is empty—so much for waking up in a cozy afterglow. I tug on Vlad’s t-shirt and wander out, finding him parked by the floor-to-ceiling windows, arms crossed, staring out at the East River.
“Sleep okay?” he asks without turning.
His voice is polite but holds zero warmth. He’s cold. Again. Why does he always do this after we’re together?
