There’s nothing soft about this. It’s rough and hungry, teeth grazing skin, fingers digging in. Beneath the urgency, something real yet unspoken hums under every touch.
He lifts me like I weigh nothing, arms steady and sure. I wrap my legs around him without thinking, burying my face in his neck as he carries me across the room. The scent of rain clings to his skin—clean, masculine, warm. He lays me down on the couch, eyes locked on mine, and the world tilts.
I reach for him, tugging at his belt. The leather slips free with a sharp snap, and I pull the fabric of his trousers down past his hips.
We come apart slowly. Clothes stripped between breathless kisses. His hands worshipping every inch of me—palming the curve of my thigh, tracing the swell of my breast, mapping me like he’s etching it into memory.
He slides his thick, perfect cock into me slowly, filling me inch by inch. I gasp, hips tilting instinctively to take more of him. He groans—deep and guttural—like he’s been waiting to be inside me again since Paris.
The stretch of him is maddening, almost too much, yet not enough, and my breath leaves me in shallow, desperate pulses.
His hands frame my face like I’m fragile. He braces himself above me, foreheads pressed together, eyes locked on mine, steel-gray and shadowed.
“Astrid…” he murmurs, his voice raw.
He moves in slow, deep strokes that make my toes curl and my back arch. Every drag of his hips against mine sends little shocks through me, trembling bursts of pressure that mount higher with each thrust.
My fingers claw into his back, nails skimming his skin, to keep from flying apart. He scoops my breasts into his hands, leaning down and gently sucking my nipples. I moan at the intense pleasure.
“Harder,” I whisper, barely able to form the word through the tangle of breath and need. “Please…”
He groans, and his rhythm changes—harder, more urgent. My body rises to meet his, the sound of skin against skin echoing through the quiet of my apartment, my breasts bouncing with each thrust.
I cry out with every motion, every deep push driving the breath from my lungs and all thoughts from my head. He’s giving it to me so slow, so deep, so perfect.
“Yuri. Don’t stop.”
His mouth drops to my neck, his voice thick and gravel-rough against my ear. “You’re mine now.”
I can’t respond as an orgasm rushes through me, my back arching beneath him.
As it fades, I know instantly what I want next.I flip him before I can second guess it—shifting my weight, wrapping my thighs around him and rolling us over with a gasp and an explosion of cushions.
His eyes widen, surprised but hungry, as I straddle him, palms flat against his chest.
The power rushes through me, bold and electric as I take hold of his thick, hard cock and lower myself onto him. I moan deeply as he fills me again. My hands slide up to his shoulders for balance, my hair falling in a messy curtain around our faces. He watches me, entranced like I’m some sacred fire, his hands tight on my hips, thumbs digging into my flesh.
I ride him slowly at first, grinding down in deep, rolling waves, letting the friction build, letting the burn spread through me like fire licking up dry paper. Every movement sends sparks skittering along my nerves, the pressure winding tighter with each lift of my hips.
His hands grip my waist—firm and possessive—his thumbs dragging over the slick heat of my skin, moving along my stomach until my breasts are in his hands, his thumbs teasing my nipples.
“Faster,” he growls, his voice ragged.
I obey and quicken the pace, hips snapping harder now, my pussy slick and soaked enough for him to glide in and out with ease.
My thighs tremble with need, and I brace my hands against his chest, nails digging in just enough to make him hiss through his teeth. His muscles tense beneath my palms, every inch of him straining like he can’t get deep enough, close enough.
“Look at me,” he demands. “I want to see you when you come.”
I lift my gaze, locking onto his—and completely come undone.
The fire inside me ignites all at once, searing through my spine, my belly, my core. I cry out, head thrown back as my pussy clenches around his cock, pulsing hard with the force of it. Pleasure crashes over me in waves, hot and endless, and I feel him shudder beneath me.
He growls then whispers my name, and then he’s spilling into me with a guttural sound. His hands seize my hips as his body bucks upward, chasing every last ounce of release.
I collapse against his chest, trembling and slick with sweat. He wraps his arms around me without a word. We lie together, tangled and spent, the air cooling around us. I rest my cheek against him, his skin damp, his scent wrapping around me like a blanket.
We don’t speak. The silence between us is heavy. Not with doubt but with something fragile. Something real.
