I curse and move harder. Faster. The bed creaks, the sound of skin on skin filling the room. Loud, filthy.
Her legs lock around my waist. She meets me halfway with every thrust. She’s not still and quiet like the first time we did this. She gives back, takes it all, scratches down my back like she wants to mark me. Every drag of her nails pulls a sound out of me.
I press my mouth to her throat. I bite lightly, then suck at the spot until she gasps my name again. I want her voice in my ear. Need the sound of her to drown everything else out.
Her body moves under mine. There’s no rhythm now, just heat and want.
I brace a hand beside her head, the other on her thigh to keep her open for me. “You like this?” I rasp. “You like being full of me like this?”
She nods frantically. A small noise escapes her throat, almost a sob.
I pound into her harder. Piston my cock in and out until the sounds are obscene. She tightens around me fast after that, too wrecked to take it any longer.
I feel her coming. Her body clamps down on me, walls tight around my cock. She cries out, but I don’t stop. Fuck her through it until there are tears of pleasure streaming down her cheeks.
One more thrust. Then another. And I break, too.
Fire floods through me as I come inside her. My body jerks. It goes on forever, but I can’t stop fucking her, even as I spill deep inside, filling her up to the brim.
For a moment, all I can hear is our breathing, harsh and messy. I can smell her on my skin, on the sheets. The air is full of her.
I lower her legs slowly and lean down. My forehead rests against hers. We’re both slick with sweat, skin sticky where we touch. Her breath hits my neck, warm and shaky.
I don’t move. I should pull out, say something, but I don’t.
I just stay there, buried inside her.
42
SIMA
My head is still spinning.
I’m tucked against Petyr’s chest, my cheek pressed to the hard planes of muscle. His skin is warm, slick with sweat, and I can feel the slow thud of his heartbeat under my ear. Every breath he takes lifts me and grounds me when everything else still feels unreal.
His hand moves lazily down my back, tracing small circles with one finger. If I wasn’t completely spent, I’d be shivering from the touch. Instead, I just sigh and let him draw whatever shapes he wants there.
It’s strange. Quiet moments like these used to make me tense. I’d wait for the sharp edge, for Petyr’s ruthlessness to come out the second our bodies weren’t the ones doing the talking anymore.
Now, it just feels… safe. All of it. In a way I haven’t felt in a long time.
He looks down at me and asks, “You okay?”
I laugh, still levitating halfway out of my body. “More than okay.” My limbs feel like melted wax. Soft, stretched, and aching in the best way. I don’t think I could move even if I tried.
It’s not just the physical part that overwhelms me. It’s what itmeans. That I let myself want him. That I didn’t stop wanting him, not even for a moment. That some part of me wanted to be seen, touched, claimed.
Petyr grins at my words. That quiet grin that pulls at one side of his mouth, so rare and precious.
But then his expression shifts. He looks down at me, gaze intense. His thumb brushes a lock of hair off my forehead.
“I know marriage to me wasn’t what you ever planned for,” he says. “I just need you to know I’m grateful. For all of it.”
“You don’t have to thank me,” I protest. “I?—”
“Yes, I do, Sima.” His tone is firm, but not unkind. “You’ve made this house into a real home. Gave me a beautiful daughter. You stayed, even when you had every reason to walk away.” He presses a soft kiss on the top of my head. “So thank you.”
Petyr doesn’t talk like this. He gives orders, threats, the occasional compliment that feels worth marking the calendar for. Gratitude isn’t in his vocabulary.
