Her moan vibrates against my mouth, low, needy, and I deepen the kiss, tongue stroking, hands sliding down her sides to her hips. Her lips are soft, wet, yielding, and it’s the hottest damn thing, like she’s pouring herself into me, fearless, bold, not the girl who flinched at shadows.
She laughs, a sudden, bright sound, straightening up and straddling me again, her pink-blushed face glowing, laughter spilling, wild, free.
“Got you,” she says, cheeky, leaning down, her blouse open, sweat-slicked curves tempting.
My heart kicks hard, not just from arousal; something shifts, cracks open, seeing her like this, laughing, alive, owning this moment. I’m fucked, not just wanting her body but her fire, her fight.
“Damn,malyshka,” I say, voice rough, hands sliding to her ass, squeezing through her leggings. “You’re playing dirty now.” I pull her closer, kissing her again, lips hungry, tongue delving, the heat of her mouth pulling me under.
“Keep laughing like that, and I’ll lose it,” I say, half-warning, half-promise, my cock throbbing against her.
She shifts her weight and leans forward. “Maybe I want you to lose it.”
22
Mary
Islap a hand over my mouth.
Did I just say that? God. What’s wrong with me today?
Anton’s eyes burn up at me, wild and dark all at once. His hands tighten on my hips like he’s seconds from flipping me, pinning me until I can’t move, can’t breathe—except I already can’t breathe, not with his cock pressing so hard against me through my leggings.
I should be embarrassed. I should climb off, reset, laugh it off. But my body has other plans. My hips roll, testing him, and the sound he makes—low, guttural, like it got dragged out of his chest—is enough to make me shiver.
“You’re dangerous,malyshka,” he growls.
“Maybe I like dangerous,” I shoot back, though my voice wobbles.God, I sound insane. Who even am I right now?This isn’t the girl who apologizes to ATMs. This is someone bold, reckless, climbing a Bratva enforcer like he’s my personal playground.
He pushes up onto his elbows, our faces so close I can taste his breath—heat, sweat, hunger. Then he kisses me again, harder this time, lips crashing, teeth dragging, tongue claiming. It’s filthy and wet and perfect, and I’m melting, hands clutching his shoulders like I’ll drown without him.
His grip shifts, sliding lower, palming my ass, squeezing until I gasp into his mouth. He swallows it like it belongs to him.
Every nerve in me is on fire. My thighs tremble against his ribs, sweat sticking my blouse to my skin. We’re both slick, messy, too far gone. And I know if we keep this up, I’m going to completely lose myself right here on this mat.
He breaks the kiss first, forehead pressed to mine, breath ragged.
“Shower,” he rasps. “Now. Before I fuck you into the floor.”
Shower. Oh God. The word alone has me clenching, my imagination sprinting ahead—water pouring over us, his hands sliding everywhere, no clothes, no excuses.
I swallow hard, nerves and want tangling, but my mouth betrays me again. “Maybe I want that too.”
His laugh is dark, rough, like I just sealed my own fate.
And maybe I did.
Anton doesn’t give me a chance to backpedal. His arms lock around me, lifting me clean off the mat like I weigh nothing. Princess hold. Ridiculous. My legs hook his waist anyway, like my body’s been waiting to do it all along.
The world tilts, his boots thudding heavily on the concrete as he carries me out of the gym and into the locker room. The smell changes—rubber and gun oil fading into faint soap, steam, and bleach. A shower hisses somewhere, water dripping in the pipes overhead.
He doesn’t stop kissing me. My mouth, my jaw, the curve of my throat. Hungry, everywhere at once, like he can’t choose what part to claim first. My hands fist in his hair, tugging, needing more.
“Anton,” I gasp when his lips find that spot under my ear, and his growl vibrates straight down my spine.
The door bangs shut behind us, echoing loudly in the tiled room. He presses me to the cold wall, and the contrast of his heat against my front and the chill at my back makes me shiver.
He kisses me again—slower this time, brutal in its intensity. Tongue stroking mine like he’s savoring every inch, like he’ll never get another chance. My chest aches with how much I want to drown in it.
