She gasps, back arching, but she doesn’t pull away—if anything, she presses herself closer to the window, thighs parting just enough for me to slip my hand between them.
I spread her open with my fingers, slick and ready, tracing her folds before finding her clit. I circle it slowly, just the tip of my finger at first, teasing her until she’s squirming, whimpering, hands splayed against the glass for balance.
“Look at you,” I whisper against her ear, my voice thick with need. “So fucking wet for me.”
She moans, hips rocking back into my hand, wordless and desperate.
I slide one finger inside her, then two, curling them deep while my thumb presses tight to her clit. She cries out, forehead resting against the glass, body shaking as I fuck her with my fingers, slow at first, then faster, my other hand gripping her breast, pinching her nipple just enough to make her squirm.
Every sound she makes, every shiver, goes straight to my cock, straining hard against her ass. She pushes back, hungry, greedy for more, and I give it to her—my fingers pumping into her, my mouth hot on her neck, my words low and filthy in her ear.
“You want more, Bella?” I growl, grinding against her, making sure she feels exactly how much I need her.
Her answer is another moan, her body tightening around my fingers, lost in sensation, helpless against everything I give her.
My grip on her hip tightens, thumb digging into the sweet dip of bone as I work my fingers deeper inside her. I can feel her breath shudder, her body tense, every tiny movement telling me how close she is to coming apart, right here against the window for the whole world to see, if anyone cared to look up.
She’s panting now, cheek pressed against the glass, her eyes squeezed shut, trying to ground herself. But I don’t want her grounded. I want her lost. I want her undone.
My other hand skims up her belly, rough fingertips sliding beneath her breast, pinching her nipple between my fingers, rolling it until she gasps—high and desperate. I keep my mouth at her ear, letting her hear how wrecked I am too, letting her feel my breath hot and ragged on her skin.
“Open your eyes, Bella. Look out there,” I command, my voice hoarse. “All those people, all that distance, and no one gets to have you but me.”
She shivers, eyelids fluttering open, staring blindly at the city while I keep her right where I want her. My cock throbs against her ass, so hard it hurts, but I don’t stop fingering her, don’t stop twisting and curling my fingers inside her, searching for that spot I remember all too well. I know her body better than my own. I know exactly how to break her down.
Her moans are soft, desperate, and when I brush my thumb over her clit again, circling tight and fast, she bucks back into my hand, her breath fogging the glass anew.
“Oh god, Aleksander—” she whispers, one hand flying back to grip my thigh. I catch her wrist, pinning it above her head against the cold pane, trapping her between the city and me.
I press my mouth to her shoulder, biting down just enough to make her gasp, then soothing the spot with my tongue, kissing up her neck, drinking in the taste of her skin, the salt of her sweat. She tastes like home. Like everything I thought I’d lost.
My voice is rough, almost pleading as I whisper, “Let go for me, Bella. I want to feel you come on my hand.”
She cries out as I pump my fingers faster, my thumb circling her clit with hard, practiced pressure. Her body clamps around my hand, trembling violently, her breath ragged as she starts to fall apart. I hold her tighter, chest to her back, murmuring her name, telling her I’ve got her, that she’s safe, that I’ll never let anyone hurt her again.
When she finally breaks, she comes with a sound halfway between a sob and a shout, her body shuddering so hard I nearly lose my balance. I hold her upright, fingers still stroking her through the aftershocks, my own need so fierce it’s almost painful.
Her body shakes against the glass, her breath catching as I keep my fingers inside her, savoring every twitch and flutter. She sags into my arms, spent, but I’m not done—not even close. The need is a physical ache, something primal and possessive I can’t ignore.
I turn her, pressing her back into the window so I can see her face. Our eyes meet, heat still burning in hers, mingled with something that looks dangerously close to trust. I can barely breathe, chest tight with everything I can’t say.
Unbuttoning my trousers, I grip her thighs and lift her, her legs wrapping around my waist. The head of my cock finds her, slick and ready, and I push inside her in one slow, deliberate stroke. We both gasp, and her nails bite into my shoulders, my hands holding her steady as I bury myself deep.
For a heartbeat, we just breathe together, her forehead pressed to mine, her lips parted, eyes squeezed shut in pleasure. Then I start to move—slow at first, then harder, fucking her against the window while the world blurs around us.
Each thrust is hungry, almost desperate, but the way she clings to me, the way her breath stutters against my mouth, it’s not just about sex. It’s everything we’ve lost and everything we still need—anger, relief, hope, years of silence all poured into this one act. My hand slips between us, finding her clit, circling it as I drive into her, drawing out those sweet, broken moans I’ve missed for so long.
She lets her head fall back, throat exposed, hair wild, body arching to take me deeper. I cover her mouth with mine, swallowing every sound, teeth scraping her bottom lip, needing her close, needing her to know she’s mine, here, now, always.
I fuck her harder, hips snapping, glass cool behind her, sweat slick between us, every muscle straining with the effort not to lose myself too soon. Her legs squeeze around me, her heels digging into my back, urging me on. The air is thick with our need—rough, filthy, beautiful.
Her walls clamp down, her body shaking as she comes again, gasping my name, holding on for dear life. That’s all it takes. My own orgasm slams into me, pleasure ripping through my core as I spill inside her, mouth at her throat, hands gripping her hips like I’ll never let go.
We stay tangled, pressed together, panting, bodies humming from the aftershocks.
We collapse onto the bed, tangled in the blanket, sweat cooling on our skin. The window is fogged, the room thick with the scent of us. For a while, there’s only the rush of blood in my ears, the ache in my muscles, the soft thud of her heart where her chest rests against mine.
But I start to shiver. A chill seeps into my bones and I can’t hide it. She props herself up on one elbow, concern flickering across her face as she touches my forehead.
