Above me, I hear his breath catch. Feel his thighs tense under my free hand.
His hand moves toward my head, instinct taking over, wanting to guide or control or just touch.
"Uh uh," I say, pulling back slightly to meet his eyes. "Hands stay on the railing."
He groans but obeys. His knuckles go white gripping the metal, and I can see the effort it takes him to maintain that position instead of touching me the way he clearly wants to.
I reward his obedience by taking him deeper.
I hollow my cheeks, create suction, use my tongue along the underside where I can feel his pulse hammering. Find the rhythm that makes his breathing turn ragged and his hips flex forward despite his attempts at control.
"Victoria," he breathes in warning.
I can hear the match continuing below. The thunder of hooves on packed earth. The crack of mallets against the ball. The rise and fall of the crowd reacting to plays I can't see and don't care about. All that matters is the man above me, the taste of him on my tongue, the way his body responds to every movement I make.
I increase my pace. Take him deeper, letting him feel the back of my throat. My free hand slides up to cup his balls, rolling them gently, feeling how tight they've drawn up against his body.
His whole body goes rigid. Every muscle locks. His breathing stops entirely for a heartbeat.
"Fuck," he grits out through clenched teeth. "I'm going to—"
I pull slightly on his balls. Not hard. Just enough pressure to send him over the edge.
He comes with a sound that's half groan, half curse, spilling hot into my mouth. I swallow everything he gives me, working him through the aftershocks with my tongue and hand until he's trembling above me, his grip on the railing the only thing keeping him upright.
When I finally pull away, I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and look up at him.
He's staring down at me with an expression I've never seen before. Awe. Vulnerability. Something that looks dangerously like love mixed with wonder.
I rise slowly, still smiling, feeling powerful and desired and completely in control for the first time in weeks. "You know... I think I finally understand the appeal of polo."
27
MAKSIM
Morning light filters through the sheer curtains of my home office, painting everything in shades of gold and cream.
I sit at my desk with an espresso, sorting through documents that require my attention before the day officially begins. The quiet tick of the mechanical clock on the wall marks time in steady intervals. The house is still mostly asleep. This hour belongs to me alone.
I take a sip of coffee. Let the bitter warmth ground me while my mind works through yesterday's events.
Victoria handled Morrison perfectly. Better than perfectly, actually. She defused a situation that was rapidly deteriorating with the kind of diplomatic skill that comes from years of navigating high society politics. She read the room, identified the pressure points, and applied just enough charm and logic to bring two stubborn men back to neutral ground.
She could be a real asset to the Severyn Bratva. Her mind is sharp. Her instincts are good. Her ability to manipulate social situations rivals my own.
I wonder if she could be convinced to stay long term.
The thought surfaces with surprising intensity. Our contract specifies one year. Five million dollars. A business arrangement with clear parameters and an expiration date.
But what if we made it real? What if we turned this paper marriage into permanence?
The idea should feel like a cage. I've spent years avoiding exactly this kind of entanglement. Kept my relationships transactional. Maintained distance. Protected myself from the vulnerability that comes with genuine attachment.
Yet with Victoria, the thought of permanence doesn't trigger my usual defenses. Instead, it feels like possibility.
She disrupts me. Constantly. Her presence in my home has turned my carefully ordered life into unpredictability. Less controlled. She forces me to engage when I'd rather retreat into silence.
But she also stabilizes me in ways I didn't know I needed. When she held me after I played the piano, I felt safety I haven't known since I was fifteen years old. Understanding. The particular comfort of being seen completely and not rejected.
