I freeze. My hands are fists at my sides, nails digging into my palms, and I force myself to inhale. The sound rattles. I’m not angry at her, but at the entire world pressing in.
“Lev…” she says softly, a tremor in her voice. “You’re scaring me.”
The words gut me.
Before I can think, I’m across the room, closing the distance between us in a heartbeat. I catch her by the waist and pull her against me, her damp skin cool under my palms. She’s tense, trembling slightly, and that tremor drives a nail through my chest.
“Hey,” I murmur, lowering my head to her shoulder. “Hey, I’m sorry.”
I hold her tighter, desperate to keep her close, to keep her safe, even as I feel her breath stutter against my neck. My heart’s still pounding like I’m standing on a battlefield instead of in our suite.
“I’m sorry,” I repeat, over and over, the words rasping out of me. “I didn’t mean to raise my voice. You didn’t do anything wrong, Sasha. It’s me.”
Her hands stay stiff between us for a moment before she exhales, the sound shaky, and presses her cheek to my chest. I breathe her in—the faint scent of soap and rosewater grounding me, dragging me back from the edge.
“I just….” My voice cracks as I search for air. “I can’t lose you. Not to them. Not to anyone.”
She doesn’t speak, but her fingers curl into my shirt, and somehow that feels like forgiveness—or maybe just understanding. I’ll take either. The goal is to protect her, not lose her.
“Sasha, I’m here. I will protect and—”
Before I can finish my sentence, she rises on her toes and presses her lips to mine.
It’s soft. Hesitant. But gone too fast.
She pulls away immediately, blinking as if she’s just woken from a trance. “I—” Her voice falters. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to do that. I just—”
I don’t let her finish.
My hand slides to the back of her neck, and I pull her in, crashing my mouth against hers. This kiss isn’t hesitant. It’s raw, hungry, full of everything I’ve been trying to hold back since the moment she walked into my life.
She gasps, and I take the sound, swallow it, deepen the kiss. My other hand finds her waist, fingers splaying across the curve of her back, dragging her closer until there’s no space left between us.
Her apology melts against my mouth, replaced by a soft, broken sound that makes something inside me shatter.
This isn’t about anger anymore. It’s about need—desperate, consuming, inevitable.
I’m impatient. And so is she. We don’t waste any more time. I push her against the wall, pressing her front to it, then raise her robe and knead the soft flesh of her behind. She arches onto me and whispers, “Please.”
“You don’t need to beg,” I whisper into her ear. “I’m hungry for you as much as you are for me,kotyonok.”
I press her against the wall with one hand and work my zipper with the other. As soon as my pants are down, I’m pressing my hard dick into her warmth without preamble. She screams, her head angling back to rest on my shoulders.
I grip her hips harder, tilting her slightly so I can press deeper into her. Every gasp she lets out drives me further, feeding the hunger coiling low in my belly. My mouth finds the column of her neck, biting, sucking, leaving marks that feel like confessions of ownership.
I slide my hands under her robe, along the curve of her waist, down the soft plane of her hips, letting my fingers explore and claim. She arches harder, pressing into me as though she’s trying to fuse our bodies together.
“You’re mine,” I murmur against her skin, low, rough, a growl that vibrates deep in my chest. “Every inch. Every part. You feel that?”
She shivers, voice barely more than a breath. “Yes…. I feel you….”
I pull back just enough to look at her, dark eyes drinking her in—the way her lips part, the flush crawling across her chest, the heat pooling in her expression. She’s mine in every way that matters, and I’ll never let her doubt it.
In one thrust, I bury myself deep inside her. She screams, her body shuddering and going lax in my arms. I pound her against the wall, sweat breaking out on my forehead as I thrust into her with a deep, volatile energy. It doesn’t matter how many times I do this; it’s never enough.
We move together, a rhythm born from obsession and longing, dark and urgent. I can feel the coil of her building, the ache that mirrors mine, and I chase it, prolong it, savor it. Every moan, every shiver, every soft cry of my name is an arrow straight into my heart.
Her body tightens, quivering under me, and I know she’s close. I pull her impossibly nearer, my forehead pressed to her neck, our breaths tangled, our heat fused.
