I nuzzle his neck, nipping at the corded muscle. I can feel the unsteady beat of his pulse against my lips, and there's something so arousing about that…the fact that I affect him as much as he does me. I trail my hand over his muscular chest down to the taut muscles of his stomach, then lower, slowly wrapping my fingers around his already hard cock. His body trembles at my touch, very much to my delight.
Alexei slips a finger into me, and my walls contract in response.
“Hmm… so wet,” he drawls, his fingers caressing the folds of my pussy so gently I almost scream from the pleasure coursing through my body. “You're always so ready for me. Taste yourself,milaya."
He takes his finger out of me and slides it between my parted lips. I close my eyes against the unexpected pleasure of tasting my own desire. I moan low in my throat, reckless with my need as I palm his heavy erection in my hand. I stroke his soft tip, swirling a drop of pre-cum around the velvety head until he grabs my hand and drags it away.
“I want you inside me, Alexei,” I whisper, the sound of my voice foreign even to my own ears. “Please…”
“I know,milaya, I know.” He sits up, pulling me onto his lap. I wrap my legs around his waist, his erection nudging the cleft of my pussy.
“Please, my love,” I whine shamelessly, helpless against the need gripping my core.
“I'm all yours, Anya,” he says, lying back on the bed and pulling me with him. “As much as you want. Take it.”
Our bodies press together, shoulder to hip, and I only have to shift my weight before he’s inside me. I look down at his magnificent face—rugged, handsome—as he buries himself completely inside of me.
I moan at the feeling of fullness. Completeness. I start to rock against him, slowly finding a rhythm that works. Alexei lets me take control, his hands grasping my hips.
I lay across his body, pressing my clit into his flat, muscular belly. I can see my desire mirrored in his expression…can feel his pulse in the flesh embedded inside of me. In this moment, we're not two, but one body lost in a sea of ecstasy. I increase my pace, move faster, clenching harder around him…
“I'm close,milaya,” Alexei says gruffly, his face contorted almost like he's in pain, his hands on my hips tightening as he clenches his teeth. “Fuck!”
I stare into his eyes, mesmerized by the sheer beauty of this moment. His breath comes out in short, rasping pants that match mine. I can feel myself getting closer to the edge, too, and the need for release becomes desperate with each thrust.
I shift my weight, grinding against him, and that's all it takes. I cry out as a powerful orgasm rocks my body. Alexei pulls my head down to him and kisses me, swallowing the sound.
I whimper into his mouth, tasting him, tasting myself. The climax rocks my body, and the waves of pleasure seem endless. Alexei tenses beneath me, his moan growing louder, deeper against my lips. I swallow his breath, my pussy walls clenching uncontrollably around him as he comes.
Minutes after, we lie together in a warm, damp tangle of limbs, with him still half-hard inside of me. I lay my head over his heart, a little smile forming on my lips as I listen to the irregular thud of his heart.
He may be the fearless, powerfulpakhanof the New York City bratva, but he's still just a man whose heart beats for me.
Mine.
Epilogue
Six Months Later
Alexei
My wife looks perfectly at home on the stage. Perfectly beautiful.
I, along with a thousand other spectators, hold my breath as the first notes of her aria rise. It's a common effect she has on her fans all around the world—including me.
I’ve seen her perform more times than I can count, but every damn time, it hits me like the first. Tonight, though…tonight, she’s something else entirely.
Her voice is soft at first, aching with loss, then it swells with pure power wrapped in silk. The song is about love broken and found again after an impossible distance.
It’s about us. Every note resonates.
My chest tightens with emotions that still feel unfamiliar even after all this time—that overwhelming rush of love, tenderness and gratefulness.
She most likely can’t see me out here because of the bright lights, but it almost feels like she’s looking right at me. Singing to me.
Singing for me.
Dmitri leans over, a smug smirk spreading across his face. “You’ve gone soft, brother. Look at you. Eyes all glassy. Didn’t think I’d live to see the day Alexei Balshov turned into a sentimental idiot.”
