“God, Sasha. Your mouth?—”
I hum in response. The vibration makes him curse in Russian.
I can feel him getting closer. Feel the way his thighs start to shake. But I pull back before he can finish.
Then I straddle him again, position myself over him, and sink down in one smooth motion.
We both moan at the feeling. The stretch. The fullness. The perfect way we fit together.
“Move,” Tony demands, grabbing my hips.
“You move.”
He thrusts up hard. I brace my hands on his chest and meet him stroke for stroke.
We find a brutal rhythm, that fast and desperate. There’s nothing gentle about this. Just need and want and the knowledge that someone is listening to every sound we make.
Good. Let him hear this. Let him understand that whatever control he thought he had is gone.
I lean forward and kiss Tony while we move, swallowing his groans as I let him swallow mine.
“Touch yourself,” Tony requests against my mouth. “I want to feel you come around me.”
I reach between us and find my clit. The added sensation makes me clench around him.
“Yes. Just like that.”
I’m close already. Tony must feel it because he starts thrusting harder. Deeper. Hitting that spot inside me that makes my vision blur.
“Good girl.” he demands. “I want to feel you come on my cock.”
The combination of his words, the angle, my own fingers—it’s too much. I come apart while I call his name loud enough to echo off the walls.
Tony follows a heartbeat later. He buries his face in my neck and groans as he empties himself.
We stay locked together for a long moment, both breathing hard. Both trembling. Neither willing to move yet.
Finally I lift off him and collapse on the mattress beside him. The sheets are tangled around us. My heart is still racing.
We lie there in silence. I stare at the ceiling while my heartbeat slowly returns to normal. Tony’s hand finds mine on the bed between us, and he laces our fingers together.
“For the record,” he whispers, keeping this just between us, “that was real too. All of it.”
I squeeze his hand but don’t answer.
Because I know it was real. I felt it in every touch, every kiss, every moment. The way he looked at me. The way he held me. The way he whispered my nickname like it meant something.
But saying that out loud feels too much like admitting things I’m not ready to admit.
So instead I just hold his hand and let myself believe—for tonight at least—that maybe we can survive this.
24
Tony
Boris drops a stack of financial records on Dmitri’s conference table hard enough to make me look up from my coffee.
“We’ve narrowed it down,” he announces.
