"Oh, God…" I whisper, and he pulls his hand away. I whimper at the loss, but then I hear the sound of his belt buckle, the rasp of a zipper, and anticipation coils in my stomach. He shoves his pants down and tears them off. Then he tosses his shirt and crawls back over me, and then he's settling between my thighs, his cock pressing against my entrance.
"Look at me," he says, and I look up at his face where his eyes bore into mine like he can see my soul as he slides into me inch by inch.
The sensation is overwhelming, almost too much, and I dig my nails into his ribs. He groans, his forehead dropping to rest against mine, and for a moment we just breathe together. Being joined to him is loud enough that the other noise in my head fades and all I can think about is him.
Then he starts to move. The first thrust draws a groan from my lips, and I wrap my legs around his waist to take him deeper. I cling to him, meeting his movements with my own rocking hips. I'm lost in him, fully immersed in this moment so that nothing else in the world could come between us or remind me of life outside these walls.
Vadim is everything right now—his eyes locked on mine, his hand groping my breast, and the way he fills me and makes me forget my name. It's intoxicating how he can hypnotize me so thoroughly and I wouldn't change a thing.
"You like that?" he asks in a dark tone, and the rumble of his voice makes me squeeze around him. Of course I like it. He makes me feel incredible.
"Yes."
He increases his pace, driving into me harder, and I feel the pressure building low in my belly. My hands slide up his back, clawing deeply, and he hisses in pleasure. The slight pain seems to spur him on, and he shifts his angle, hitting that perfect spot that makes me moan.
"That's it," he murmurs. "Don't hold back."
I couldn't if I tried.
Every nerve ending is on fire, every sensation amplified to an almost unbearable degree. His free hand slides down to grip my hip, holding me in place as he pounds into me, and I feel myself moving closer and closer to the edge. My toes curl, and my mouth parts on a whimper. He’s touching every spot I need, and speaking to me like I belong to him—his possession he deeply values.
"Vadim, I'm going to?—"
"Come for me."
The command in his voice is all it takes. My body stiffens and clamps down on him as climax crests and rolls through me. It's impossible to stay quiet. Every curse word I know flies from my lips, mingled with his name and pleas for him not to stop. He works me through it, drawing out every last tremor until I'm boneless under him.
But he's not done.
He hooks his arms under my knees, folding me nearly in half as he drives deeper. The new angle is almost too intense, but I take him, because I need this as much as he does. It’s hard to breathe, and his hands grip me so hard it hurts, but now he’s touching my back wall every time he bottoms out. And I gasp and whimper.
His eyes meet mine again, and what I see there makes my chest tighten. This isn't just physical release for him either. There's something raw and vulnerable in his gaze, something that mirrors the emotions churning inside me. A tear slides down my temple before I can stop it, and he catches it with his thumb.
"Don't cry,” he purrs, and it seems odd with how he’s fucking me.
"I can't help it."
Another tear follows the first, then another, but they're not tears of sadness. The relief and gratitude are overwhelming—the realization that I'm not alone anymore. That this dangerous, complicated man chose to save me.
Vadim leans down and kisses me, swallowing my tears, tasting the salt on my lips. The tenderness of the gesture is at odds with the relentless rhythm of his hips.
"You're mine now," he says against my mouth so possessively, I can't refuse him.
I whisper, "Yes," and deep down, I mean it. He owns me, and it frightens me sometimes, but I know it's true. I'm falling for him helplessly and he owns me.
His control snaps and he buries his face in the curve of my neck and pounds into me, chasing his own release. I wrap my arms around his back, my legs locked around his waist, and I let him take what he needs. His breathing becomes ragged as his movements lose their rhythm, and then he groans my name as he comes.
I feel him pulse inside me and his warmth flood me, and more tears stream down my temples into my hair. When he collapses on top of me, his weight presses me into the mattress, and neither of us moves for a long moment.
Eventually, he shifts his weight to his elbows, looking down at me with dark eyes full of desire. His thumb brushes away the moisture on my cheeks, and then he kisses me again. This kiss is different from the others—it’s slower, like he's trying to tell me something he doesn't have words for.
When he finally pulls out, I feel the loss acutely. He rolls to the side, taking me with him so we're facing each other, and his hand comes up to cup my jaw.
"You okay?" he asks.
I nod, not trusting my voice. I finally feel grounded again, not fractured and dissociated.
"Good."
