“Yes,” I gasp.
It’s as if Viktor has rung a bell, and my body instantly responds, growing hot and needy and desperate with the promise of what he can give me. I push against him harder, wordlessly demanding.
“I can feel how much you want me.” His mouth attaches to my neck, and he alternates between kissing, sucking, and biting me none too gently while he keeps brushing at my mound. The rush of sensations makes my toes curl. “You’re so wet,solnyshko.”
His thumb begins circling my clit.
“Oh my God.” I shiver convulsively as he strokes me, once, twice, gently, teasing me. Pregnancy has made me so much more sensitive, all the blood rushing to my sex so that every nerve seems to be a thousand times more sensitive.
“Not God,solnyshko.Only me.”
Viktor is driving me wild—I can barely think, I want him so badly. In a frenzy, I grab at his shirt, trying to tear apart the buttons. But he stops me, grasping my wrists in an iron grip, steel in his eyes when I meet his gaze.
“I am in charge. Do you understand?”
His voice is deep, a command and a dangerous promise that I would usually chafe at, that would have me up and out of here in a second.
Except this is my apartment, and fuck, my desire for Viktor drowns out everything else.
“Yes.”
“Unzip my pants.”
I reach between us, and I’m satisfied at his sharp intake of breath as I brush against the bulge there. I do as he says, unzipping his slacks, my eyes never leaving his.
“Take them off. Then take your jeans and panties off.”
Viktor shifts so I can drag his pants and underwear off, his dick, stiff as a flagpole, springing free. He loosens his tie, his long fingers working at his shirt buttons, though he never takes his eyes from me as I pull my jeans off, my underwear, then my sweater, so I’m in only my lacy bra.
“Fuck.” Viktor’s eyes grow dark and heated as he drinks me in, his fingers digging into my shoulders as I slip back onto his lap. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”
He jerks me forward, his mouth claiming mine, demanding and staking his claim as his hands move to my hips and he pushes me down onto him.
“Now ride me,” he orders, releasing me, and I do as he says.
Fuck, I do as he says, riding Viktor until we’re both moaning and panting, sweat-slicked, twined together, until his fingers wind themselves in my hair and pull until my neck is exposed to him and he sucks at it.
“Come for me Leah.Now.” Viktor snarls, the predator coming out as I ride him wildly, clench around him, my head spinning with ecstasy.
My orgasm breaks over me, and I cry out as I come undone, the world exploding with it until I’m nothing but raw energy and passion. Viktor holds me, keeps me moving, as he joins me in release, pumping me full of his hot seed.
Within this moment of pleasure, I know I’m gone, drawn to Viktor, not by force, but byhim, his raw magnetism that leaves me breathless and utterly, completely consumed. In that moment, there is no past, no future, no world outside of his arms. Only the fire, the heat, the overwhelming sensation of being desired, claimed. My doubts, my insecurities, they all dissolve under the weight of his touch, his kiss.
Monday morning dawnswith a deceptive calm after the wild storm the weekend became. I’m still not entirely recovered and quite off balance from my “talk” with Viktor. We didn’t exactly clear up the expectations, and I’m still unsure in what capacity the man wants me. In all senses of the word.
The sky is a pale, watery blue, and a crisp autumn chill hangs in the air. I drop Eliza off at school, her backpack bouncing as she skips ahead, eager to tell her friends about the food festival and the “bad butt women’s night.” She waves goodbye, her smile bright, and my heart aches with a familiar tenderness.
“Have a good day, sweetheart!” I call out, watching her disappear through the school’s doors with her friends.
I turn, pulling my jacket tighter against the chill, and head toward the station. My mind is already drifting to work, to the brief I need to finish, to the endless emails to which I need to reply. I force the memory of Saturday night with Viktor to the back of my mind until it fades to a hazy, potent dream, a secret warmth still lingering on my skin, a confusing mix of pleasure and unease.
Halfway down the block, I stop to talk briefly to a fellow class parent about the school’s fall festival and the preparations we still need to make. We say goodbye, and I’m trying to decide whether I have time to stop for a coffee when a black SUV, sleek and menacing, screeches to a halt only a few car lengths ahead of me. Before I can even register what’s happening, the passenger window slides down, a flash of metal glints in the sunlight, and my blood runs cold.
The first shot rings out, a deafening crack that shatters the morning air. My mind goes blank with terror as screams erupt around me, people scattering in every direction. The window of the shop beside me spiders, glass shards raining down, and screams erupt on the sidewalk. Another shot, closer this time, ripping through a street sign’s pole; it creaks and falls, dangling uselessly just above the pavement.
I instinctively duck, pressing myself against a mailbox. The sound of gunfire is deafening, ringing in my ears until it becomes all-consuming. I swear I can feel the vibrations of the bullets tearing into the area around me, the smell of burnt rubber and gunpowder filling the air. This isn’t a warning—someone is trying to kill me.
A shadow falls over me. A blur of motion, and then a heavy weight slams into me, pushing me down, shielding me. I barelyhave the presence of mind to look up into the man’s face—it’s Ilya.
