He started thrusting, slow at first, rhythmic, each stroke deep and deliberate. "I care for you," he said, kissing my forehead. "I'll never hurt you."
He pumped harder, his cock driving deeper into my pussy with every thrust. I wrapped my legs around him, meeting his hips as he drove into me. "Yes, Viktor,” I moaned.
He growled, sucking on my neck, leaving marks. "Your pussy's so tight and wet for me." He wrapped his hand around the nape of my neck and gently squeezed, his gaze fierce. “Mine,” he said in a low growl as he fucked me faster.
I came again, my pussy milking his cock.
He roared, thrusting deeply one last time, his cum exploding inside me, hot and thick. He collapsed, panting, arms around me protectively.
"I mean it," he whispered, kissing my shoulder. "You're mine, but I'll never hurt you."
I nodded, feeling safe in his care, my body spent and satisfied.
************
The room was quiet, too quiet except for the slow rise and fall of his chest beneath my cheek. My body was still trembling with the aftershocks of what we had just done. It was raw, consuming, nothing like the gentle kind of love I had once imagined for myself. Viktor hadn't given me that; he had taken, demanded, pulled me past every wall I had built. And yet, against all reason, I hadn't resisted, not fully.
Now, with my skin still marked by his touch, I felt small in his arms. He held me like he owned me, heavy and unyielding, one arm looped tight around my waist as if, even in sleep, he refused to let me go. His heartbeat thudded steadily beneath my ear, a rhythm that made my eyelids heavy, dragging me down into a piece I didn't trust.
I should have hated him, I should have pushed him away, reclaimed what little space I had. But I didn't. Instead, I let myself sink into him, my breast pressed against him, his warmth cocooning me against the cold reality waiting just beyond that broken window.
Somewhere in the haze, between sleep and thought, I wondered if this was safety or just another cage I had learned tomistake for shelter. His words from earlier echoed back, ‘you're mine.’
A shiver crawled over me, not from his touch, but from the sound that followed. The soft groan of a floorboard outside the door. A shift of weight, too precise to be the building settling. My body tensed, but Viktor didn't stir. His hand flexed at my hips as if his instincts felt the threat even in rest.
I closed my eyes, my heart racing, caught between exhaustion and fear. The world outside hadn't forgotten us. Danger was still circling, and I was lying in the arms of the one man who promised he would kill before letting it touch me.
Then, from the hall, the lock clicked once, soft and final, and I knew with a cold certainty the night was only just beginning.
Chapter Ten
Viktor's POV.
The office was full of men at the long table, papers spread out, maps marked with red ink. Dimitri stood by the window, giving his usual rundown. My mind was on numbers, shipments, and routes until the door burst open.
Every head turned to look at the person who’d barged in like that. But it was Emilia. She walked in, my wife, holding a folder like it was a knife.
The room went suddenly silent. I didn't move; I just leaned back in my chair, with my fingers drumming against the table. "You're interrupting," I said, flatly.
But her chin lifted. "We need to talk."
I watched her, with fire in her eyes, fearless and foolish. The men exchanged looks, but nobody dared say anything.
"I'm in the middle of a meeting," I told her, with a sharp voice. "Wait outside."
But she didn't blink; instead, she turned and looked at Dimitri, my Guards, and my lieutenants. "Leave," she said. "I need to talk to my husband."
That word husband cut through the air like a blade. My men froze, glancing at me for orders.
I let it hang for a second, then my lips curved, a ghost of a smile. "Out," I ordered.
Chairs scraped, boots hit the floor, and no one asked questions. Dimitri lingered, gave me a look, then walked out last and closed the door.
Now, it was just me and her. And she didn't hesitate. She walked right up to the table and dropped the folder in front of me. Papers spilled out, with black and white photographs, some in color. Her face was in the pictures. She was at the cafés. She was walking home. She was laughing with her friends. And those were taken months before she ever stepped into my world.
I knew the file before I even touched it. Her voice shook, but her eyes were steady. "I found it in your suite, and in the cupboard."
I stayed still while my hand brushed one of the photos. Her hair caught in the sunlight. A candid smile, but she never knew I was watching.
