My orgasm crashes over me, a tidal wave of heat and pleasure, my walls clenching around his fingers as I shudder in his embrace. Pain and pleasure mingle as my teeth dig into his shoulder, my body straining to remain silent.
He spins me around, the mirror reflecting our tangled bodies, the steam of our passion clouding our vision. I catch a glimpse of him, his eyes dark and wild, his body tense with need.God,he looks ready to devour me, his eyes hot and hungry. I can practically feel the heat coming off him as he reaches for my hips with one hand, guiding me back towards him. With his other hand, he strokes his rock-hard cock, lining it up with my soaked entrance. As he gently pushes inside me, I moan softly, feeling every inch of him filling me up and stretching me out. He groans in response, enjoying the tightness and wetness of my body as he sinks deeper inside me.
My breath quickens as he slides deeper into me, my body arched back and quivering. The feel of him inside me is like a drug, addictive and heady, and I crave more. I push my hips back to meet his thrusts, feeling the veins of his cock pulse against my walls, his cockhead pressing against my sweet spot over and over.
"Fuck, Clara," he growls, the pace of his thrusts picking up as he buries himself to the hilt. The friction between us is electric, my body buzzing with pleasure as we move together.
Leonid’s voice is gruff with desire, but his hands are gentle as they grip my hips.
“Devochkaare you okay? This isn't hurting you?"
I press my lips together, nodding, and shaking my head wordlessly as he continues to move inside me. Every thrust is a careful symphony, his cock gliding against my slick walls with a delicious friction. It's almost like he's trying to protect me, to be as gentle as possible.
Every stroke of his cock sends a wave of pleasure and pain through my body, I try to stay quiet, biting my lip to stifle the moans that threaten to erupt from my throat.
In the mirror, Leonid watches me, his eyes filled with a mix of desire.
He groans, grinding his hips against mine as his hand slips between my thighs. His thumb circles my clit, teasing out another wave of pleasure. “Fuck, Clara. You’re such a good girl,devochka.”
His breath is warm against my neck, his words making me throb around him. My body was on fire with every thrust, building towards an explosive climax. But I had to stay quiet, stifling my moans as I felt him fill me up and pulsate against my walls.
Leonid’s thrusts grow faster, rougher, but he’s controlling, his breaths become ragged, his grip on my hips tightening as heedges closer to his climax. I meet his intense gaze in the mirror, our eyes locked as we both approach climax.
"Yes...oh god..." I whisper, desperately trying to contain my moans and gasps, feeling my body begin to contract around him, he lets out a low, primal groan, his body shuddering as he explodes deep inside me.
“Feeling better?” I trace my finger along Leonid’s jawline, feeling the slight tension there. He’s been quiet since we got out of the shower, both of us wrapped in thick white robes, lying on his ridiculous bed that could fit half the Swiss guard.
Through the skylights, stars glitter against the backdrop of Alpine peaks. The dim bedside lamp casts shadows across his face, highlighting the sharp angles that somehow seem softer now.
He catches my hand, pressing a kiss to my palm. “Yes,devushka.”
“Really? Because that vein in your forehead is doing the thing again.” I prop myself up on one elbow, studying him. Water droplets still cling to his chest where the robe gapes open.
“The thing?”
“The ‘I’m carrying the weight of the entire Russian underworld but pretending I’m fine’ thing.”
He snorts, but his fingers find my hip, thumb brushing over the spot where he knows my bruises are healing. “How are your ribs?”
“Deflecting much?” But I soften, seeing the genuine concern in his eyes. “They’re okay. Better after the hot shower.”
His hand slides up to my waist, steady and warm through the fluffy robe. “Good.”
I chew my lip, gathering courage. “Can I ask you something?”
“Always.”
“Why aren’t you angry with me? About Elijah?” The question that’s been burning inside me finally escapes. His chest rises and falls under my palm, and I feel the slight hitch in his breathing.
He says nothing for a few seconds. Beneath my palm, his chest rises and falls slowly, as if he’s keeping something locked down. His muscles flex under my touch, then go still, like he’s fighting for control.
I start to pull back, but his hand catches my chin, tilting my face up to his.
His eyes are impossible to ignore in the soft lamplight, their intensity unnerving and magnetic all at once. His irises shift slightly, back and forth like he’s searching for something in me he doesn’t want to admit. They’re darker than Elijah’s but also framed by lashes so absurdly long and perfect that it’s downright unfair.
His thumb brushes my bottom lip, and I stop breathing altogether. For a second, I wonder what he’s about to say—but instead, his other hand flicks my forehead.
“Hey!” I jerk back, scowling. “What was that for?”
