Her hand goes to my jeans, fumbling with the button before getting them open and wrapping around my cock, and my knees almost buckle. That touch—her hand on me after two years of only my own—nearly undoes me completely.
"You feel bigger," she breathes against my neck, and I groan because it's true.
"It's been two years. I've been working out," I manage to say as she strokes me with slow, firm, perfect pressure.
I bite her shoulder—not hard, just enough to mark her as mine—and growl, "Need you. Now."
I spin her around and press her against the wall. The surface is cool against her back, and she gasps at the temperature contrast. She's so small compared to me, delicate but strong, fighting and yielding all at once in this perfect contradiction that is purely Alena.
I lift her again and pull her pyjama pants down with one hand, positioning myself between her thighs with my cock pressing against her entrance. "Tell me no," I whisper in her ear, trembling, barely holding on to the last threads of my control.
"Screw you!" she spits back, and I smile because that's not a no, that's never been a no with us.
I pull her hips down and push inside slowly—so slowly it's torture—just the head first, stretching her, feeling her body resist and then yield to me. She's tight, so tight it borders on painful, but perfect, scorching hot, clenching around me like she's trying to pull me deeper. I push in inch by inch, savouring every second of this reunion, two years of dreaming and watching through screens and jerking off to memories finally culminating in this moment where she's here and real and mine.
She starts moaning and moving against me, grinding down on my cock. "More," she whimpers. "Please—more—"
I bite her neck to mark her, to brand her as mine, and when she gasps, "Deeper... harder..." I lose whatever control I had left. I turn her to face me and see in her eyes the same hunger I feel, the same desperate need that's been eating me alive for two years.
I grip her hips with both hands, lift her, and slam up into her hard and deep, filling her completely. She screams and claws at my chest, at my arms, at anything she can reach. Her nails dig into my shoulders, breaking skin, drawing blood, and it's perfect—the pain mixing with pleasure, the violence mixing with love.
I pound into her fast and brutal, two years of starvation finally given permission to feast. Every thrust punches a sound out of her—gasps and cries and my name broken into syllables. "Drogo—hell—Drogo—" My name in her mouth after all this time, finally, finally.
Sweat slicks our skin, making every slide easier and hotter. The wet sound of our bodies meeting echoes through the house, obscene and perfect. I change the angle slightly to hit that spot deep inside that makes her whole body seize, andshe screams, "There! Right there! Don't stop—don't you dare stop—"
I don't, I can't, just keep driving into her, feeling her tighten around me rhythmically as she gets close. "Come for me," I growl against her ear. "Come on my cock, babe. Show me you're mine."
"Yes—yours—always yours—" she gasps, and then she comes hard, clenching around me so tight I see stars. Fuck, I can't hold it, it's been so long. Her scream echoes through the house—loud and unrestrained and beautiful.
I try to pull out, try to give myself enough control to finish somewhere else, but she clamps down harder, her legs locking around my waist and pulling me deeper. "No," she gasps. "Inside. Inside—"
That's it. That's all I needed to hear. I bury myself as deep as I can go and thrust once, twice, then freeze as I come hard and endless, filling her, marking her, making her mine in the most primal way possible. "Damn—" The word tears out of me. "Alena—damn—"
• • •
We stay there pressed against the wall, breathing hard, hearts pounding against each other in the aftermath. Slowly, carefully, I carry her upstairs while still inside her because I'm not ready to let go yet, not ready to break this connection we've finally reestablished.
Her bedroom. Her bed. I lay her down gently and pull out—she whimpers at the loss—before stripping off the rest of my clothes and climbing in beside her.
She immediately curls into me, her head resting on my chest right over her name tattooed above my heart. Her handsplays over the ink like she's claiming it, claiming me, and her eyes are already closing with exhaustion.
"I hate you," she mumbles, and pain flickers through my chest—brief but real, a sharp reminder that forgiveness isn't the same as forgetting.
I smile anyway and kiss her forehead, pulling the blanket over us both. "I know, babe," I whisper, and her breathing evens out almost immediately, deepening as sleep takes her fast.
I hold her and feel her heart beating against mine, feel her breath warm on my skin. My fingers trace the little cartoon ghosts on her pyjama pants where they're bunched at her knees—ridiculous, she's ridiculous and perfect. I trace the curve of her shoulder, the scar on her collarbone from the car crash, the faint marks my teeth left on her neck. Mine. All of it. Every scar, every mark, every breath.
In the corner of the room, a shadow shifts—not threatening, just present. Her ghosts watching, maybe approving. I don't move, don't acknowledge them, just hold her tighter and whisper into her hair like a prayer, like a promise: "Mine. Finally."
She's mine. Finally. Completely. And I'll burn the world before I let her go again—Klaus, the Bratva, Oliver's family, anyone who tries to take her from me. They'll all learn the same lesson: you don't touch what's mine. Not even once.
44
ALENA
I wake up early with dawn light barely filtering through the curtains and look down at him—Drogo, under me, one arm wrapped around my waist holding me close even in sleep, the other tucked under his head, breathing deep and even. He sleeps like the dead, completely still, his face relaxed in a way I've never seen before—no tension, no guardedness, just peace.
How can he be so beautiful? And how is he here? Is this real? Because if I've finally gone completely mad and this is a hallucination, some elaborate fantasy my broken brain has constructed, then fine. I'll take it. I'll live in this delusion forever.
