He opens my jeans and I lift up just enough for him to push my jeans and panties down my thighs, stopping above my calves. I get to work on his pants, but he shoves my hand away, quickly working himself free until his cock springs out thick and hard, ready to please me.
I can’t wait. Moaning, I lift my hips, sinking down, gasping at the stretch as his cock fills me. He grips my hips, helping me to take more and more of him. I cry out, burying my face in his neck when he’s fully inside me and I'm sitting on his lap with his cock buried deep.
"Nala," he breathes, his head falling back against the couch. "You feel incredible."
Slowly, I find my rhythm, learning how to move my hips to take him deeper as I move up and down on his cock, moaning from the fullness of it. His rough hands close over my breasts, squeezing and fondling, no surprise since he admitted his obsession with them. His thumbs brush over each nipple, and I arch into his touch, riding him hard.
"Look at your tits," he groans, moving his hand to let them bounce. He looks at me, then lowers his gaze to my breasts. “Fuck, you look good, riding this cock like you can’t live without it.”
“Cause I can’t,” I gasp in between a moan. He grabs my hips, forcing me to take him deeper and faster. I glance down at our bodies joined, the sound of our skin slapping together. Roman looks up at me, I look down at him. He takes my lips, going in for another hard kiss. “I love you so much.”
“Love you too.” Right then and there, the pressure building inside me snaps. My whole body shakes as I clench all around him. I’m so hot, burning up from pleasure and spiraling from my obsession with him.
He throws his head back, groaning as his cock pulses inside me, before warm wetness spills inside me. My stomach and now my pussy, filled with his cum. We stay joined, my face buried in his neck, trying to catch my breath.
After a while, he lifts me gently. I step out of my pants and panties still gathered around my calves. We make it to the bedroom this time, taking time to undress. It doesn’t take long before he’s on me again, inside me moving slow and deep, just taking his time.
We have sex for hours until I lose count of how many times he makes me come and all I can feel is wetness between my thighs from his cum dripping out. At some point Roman and I drift off to sleep. Sometime in the night, I awake to the sensation of being full. My eyes flutter open in the dark and realize that I have one leg slightly up and Roman is above me, deep inside me and moving slow.
I bite my lip and whisper his name and he kisses my neck, moving faster. I move my hips, joining him and meeting his thrusts.
"Pchyolka," he murmurs. "Moya pchyolka. I love you."
"My Roman," I whisper, my hands sliding up his back. “Don’t ever leave me.”
He cups my face with one hand, gazing at me as if he’s memorizing my features. “I won’t,” he promises. “I won’t.”
His pace becomes gentle, like he's savoring every moment, every thrust, every sound I make.
It doesn’t take long before I’m grasping his shoulders, coming again. He follows right after, whispering my name. When he rolls over, he brings me with him, his arms locked around me.
I try my hardest not to fall asleep, to keep my eyes from growing heavy.
I fail.
His warmth pulls me under, and I drift off to sleep. Hours later, the cold wakes me. My eyes snap open to see that it’s still dark. I turn onto my side, finding nothing but empty space.
“Roman?”
I climb out of bed, panicking. He can’t be gone already. I scramble through the cottage calling his name.
No answer.
The clock on the wall ticks. I look up to see it’s five-thirty and stomach sinks to the bottom of my feet. I press a hand to my chest and sink to the floor, struggling to breathe.
Eventually, I suck in a deep breath and return to the bedroom, clutching his pillow to my chest and breathing in the faint trace of him still there.
I know he wouldn’t want me to cry, but I can’t help it. I curl onto my side and do it anyway.
CHAPTER 20
ROMAN
"Kill the engine."
Lev does so without missing a beat. The street behind us is cloaked in darkness as the other cars behind us go dark. I’m out before the engine fully dies. Cold air slashes across my face, brutal enough to kill any softness left inside me. There can’t be any. Not for this.
Doors open across all vehicles, and my men spill onto the empty street. Black jackets with Kevlar vests strapped tight underneath. AK-74Ms and AK-103s steady in gloved hands. One by one, they mask up, balaclavas go on over their faces. We move through the early morning while Moscow sleeps and the Pakhan still thinks I’m his son begging for approval.
