The words come out as a whisper, barely audible over our breathing and the sounds of our bodies, but I mean them. God help me, I mean them. Some man I've never met, who tried to make Ivan give me up, who probably offered his relative as a replacement, like I'm some broken appliance that needs upgrading—I don't care if he dies.
Ivan smiles. Actually smiles, and it's not his careful Pakhansmile or his dangerous smile or any of the smiles I've catalogued. It's genuine. Pleased. Proud maybe.
Then he thrusts hard enough that my head hits the wall and I gasp, the philosophical moment shattered by pure sensation.
He reaches for his phone on the table, somehow managing to keep me pinned against the wall with one arm while his other hand grabs the device.
"I'm Viktor Petrov's son," he snarls against my throat, low and possessive and vibrating through my skin. "I choose who I want and take what's mine."
He dials a number and puts the call on speaker.
Oh god. Oh no. Is he really?—?
"Dmitri. Your deal?"
My whole body goes rigid. He's calling Dmitri. Right now. While we're—while he's literally inside me?—
No. This is?—
“Petrov?” It’s Dmitri. So this is the guy. “Decided to change your mind, have you?”
Ivan thrusts harder. The movement is designed specifically to make me moan, which I do. Loudly. The sound tears out of me before I can stop it.
"Hear that?" Ivan's words are filled with pure satisfaction. "That's my answer. She's mine."
Oh fuck. He's—we're—this is actually happening.
"Is that—are you?—"
This is my cue. I understand suddenly. I get what he's doing, what he's showing Dmitri. What he's proving.
I moan again. Louder this time. More deliberate. I let Dmitri hear what his "deal" means to Ivan.
"Fucking her? Yes. While talking to you? Also yes." Another thrust. "Take your deal and shove it up your ass."
He hangs up and throws the phone somewhere. It clatters against a hard surface, but I don't care enough to look.
Then he really starts moving.
Harder. Faster. Rougher than before.
My back slams against the wall with each thrust, and I should complain, should say it hurts, but it doesn't hurt. It’s exactly what I need.
"New rule," he growls into my ear, dark and commanding. "When I come home, you'll be ready however I instruct. Naked. Tied. Kneeling. Whatever I want."
I nod frantically, unable to form words. "Yes. Anything. Whatever you want. I'll be ready."
"Good girl."
He keeps going. Rougher and rougher until I forget everything else.
All I'm aware of now is this—us. Him inside me. My nails scratching down his back leaving marks he'll feel later. The way he says my name like it's a prayer and a curse and a claim all at once.
Fuck normal. Fuck safe.
The pressure builds inside me again. That familiar tightening, that heat spreading from my core outward through every nerve ending. I'm close. So close. Too close.
"Ivan—" His name comes out as a gasp, a plea. "I'm gonna—I can't?—"
