“More.”
“Good boy.”
I set the angle and pull a sound from him every time my pelvis meets his. His fingers grip the back of my neck, his thighs shaking around my waist. His cock rubs my stomach with every thrust, leaking in small pulses. I hold him there, make him sit in it.
“You feel that?”
“Yes,” he gasps. I push deeper. The moment I hit his prostate, a broken sound tears out of him. His hips jolt against mine. “That one,” he whispers. “Vik… please… that one.”
I keep the angle. His body is a map of heat and friction. My jaw locks. He tries to hide his face in my neck, but I catch his chin, forcing his eyes up. My palm stays heavy against his windpipe, making his pupils blow wide as he struggles for both air and release.
“Look at me when you come.”
He whimpers. “I’m close.”
“I know. I can feel you pulsing.”
His whole body tenses. His chest stutters. His throat vibrates under my palm when I wrap it around his neck. I squeeze, wanting to feel the moment his control snaps.
“Say my name.”
“Viktor.”
“That’s it. I’ll give you everything.” I thrust harder. He cries out. His head falls back, his mouth open and his eyes half-lidded.
“Viktor, I’m going to?—”
“Come.” He shatters. His cock spills over my stomach in hot, messy pulses that are washed away instantly by the spray. His body locks around me, trembling with a violence that shakes us both. His fingers claw at my shoulders.
“That’s how you take me.” I don't let him rest, pulling out just enough for him to gasp before slamming back in, buried to the hilt. I want him to feel the weight of me while he's coming undone, a permanent mark on his memory. Heat tears through me, wave after wave, spilling deep inside him as his body milks everything from me.
Easing out of him slowly once the last pulse fades, I catch him as he nearly collapses. “Easy. Vot tak… that’s it. I’ve got you.”
Jonah trembles, boneless, his face tucked into my neck. I ignore the rest of the world. Jonah is all I see.
“You’re alright,” I murmur, dragging my palm down his spine. “Breathe, Jonah.” He nods weakly, his breath shaky.
When he finally lifts his head with glassy eyes, he whispers, stunned. “I feel like I’ve been run over. My heart won't slow down.”
I grin at that. I reach down and trace the line of his throat where my hand just was. The skin is red where I held him, a brand I gave him in the steam. “That’s the adrenaline, krasavchik. It’s better than any drug Sergei ever gave me.”
He blushes and hides his face in my chest again, his skin still damp and humming from the friction.
I lift him from the shower, his wet skin clinging to mine. I towel him lightly, the cotton rough against his sensitive skin. His legs wobble, so I scoop him up again without a word. He melts against me. When I set him on the bed, he looks up at me with heavy eyes. I climb in beside him, and he pulls himself into my chest with the last of his strength. I hold him until his breathing evens out and he falls asleep. For a long moment, I let myself feel it too. The quiet. The warmth. Not Pakhan. Just Viktor.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-TWO
VIKTOR
It’s beentwo days since Sokolov’s death, and the streets are buzzing. I’d kill that motherfucker again without blinking, but I don’t need to. Sergei already knows it was me. Now that he knows, it’s only a matter of time before he comes for me. Unless I find him first.
“What are you thinking?” Nikolai asks from across the desk, eyes still on his computer. We’ve been working in my office for hours.
“What my uncle’s next move will be.”
“Well, while you were busy with those shipping contracts from Colombia, I got a message from Sasha. Sergei was seen at the harbor. He was kindly told to fuck off from our territory.”
