I wait.
"The thought of another man putting his hands on you," he says, voice tightening. "Another man wanting you. Even thinking about wanting you... It makes me a little crazy." He turns his gaze back to me. The raw vulnerability steals the breath from my lungs. "It is insane. Because my father... he was the biggest asshole in the world. A monster. He was insanely jealous of my mother. He suffocated her. I never thought I would be that type of man. I swore I wouldn't be. And now... now I am worried that I am exactly that type of man.”
“I get it.” He shakes his head, but I don’t let him retreat. I grab his hand, intertwining our fingers together. “You know I left home when I was seventeen. A friend from my job at a fast-food restaurant convinced me we made enough money to get an apartment. I jumped. I don’t think a kid has ever jumped so fast."
I squeeze his hand, grounding him. "We greatly overestimated how much it would take to live on our own. Then she thought it would be better to let a few guys we knew use our place to sell their drugs. It was crazy dangerous, but it was still better than returning home to that madness. While I was gone, my grandmother passed away. I started staying away for longer periods. Until I was living on the streets full time."
I meet his gaze, needing him to understand. "I thought about going home, but after she died... I never thought about it again. I’m telling you this because I know bad men. You’re not one of them. I’ve seen how you take care of Galina. It shows even in theway you treat your brothers. You’re one of the good guys. You may do bad things, but I know it doesn’t define you.”
"But when I am with you, Aria, I don't know who I am." His thumb traces my knuckles. "I lose my discipline, my focus, my fucking mind. And whatever bit of goodness you see vanishes."
My heart softens. The anger drains out, replaced by a fierce protectiveness. He isn't pulling away because he doesn't care. He's pulling away because he cares too much.
I move closer, placing my free hand on his chest, right over his beating heart.
"Then don't think about that. I'm here. I'm yours. I would never let another man touch me like that."
He covers my hand with his, crushing it against his chest. "I am glad to hear it. Because the future of the whole world relies on you keeping that promise. If anyone else touched you, I would go nuclear. I would burn this city to ash."
"You don't have to do that." I lean in until our foreheads touch. "All you have to do is trust me."
I kiss him—a soft, lingering press of lips. He groans. His hands immediately move to my waist to pull me under him, intent on claiming me, on dominating the space between us.
I push him down.
He blinks, surprised. I press my hands against his shoulders, forcing him back against the pillows.
"Trust me," I command softly.
I slide down his body. Tension coils in his muscles as he tries to figure out my game. I don't want him to take control this time. I want to give him something—my submission, but on my terms. A physical vow.
I yank the duvet away. He is already hard, straining against his boxer briefs. I free him. His cock springs loose—thick, heavy, and intimidating. For a second, my courage falters. I haven't done this before. Not really. Not like this.
I look up at him. He watches me with dark, hooded eyes, hands gripping the sheets. He doesn't push my head down. He waits. He trusts me.
I lower my head, kissing the velvet tip first. He hisses a breath through his teeth. Slowly, I take him into my mouth.
It’s a struggle. He is too big, filling me completely, stretching my jaw. I make a small, muffled sound.
"Easy." His voice is a rasp, strained. His hand comes up, not to force, but to cradle the back of my head, fingers threading through my hair. "Relax your throat, Aria. Just like that."
He talks me through it, his voice a low, rough guide in the darkness. "Open wider... yes. Use your tongue there. Good girl."
The praise goes straight to my core. The power dynamic shifts. He is at my mercy, but he still leads. His hips buck involuntarily as I find a rhythm, swirling my tongue the way he directed. It isn't just physical; it’s acceptance. I accept every part of him—the darkness, the size, the danger.
His hips buck, breath hitching. Just as the edge comes into view, his hands clamp onto my shoulders. He stops me.
"Wait."
He hauls me up his body. I scramble for purchase, knees finding the mattress on either side of his hips. He doesn't let go until I’m straddling his lap, face-to-face.
"Not alone," he rasps, hands gripping my waist like a vice. "Together."
My breath catches. The position leaves me exposed, vulnerable in a way the darkness usually hides. I hesitate, hands hovering over his chest. "I don't know how to do this."
"I will show you."
He sits up, capturing my mouth. The kiss is possessive, a claiming. His hands slide down to my hips, guiding me, lifting me slightly.
