“More,” she whispers against my mouth, and I’m powerless to do anything but give her exactly what she needs.
Her hands move down to my pants, unsheathing me quickly as I pull her sweatpants and underwear down as far as I can get them with her straddling me. It isn’t romantic or purposeful. She positions me at her entrance quickly, sliding down onto me with one movement. We both groan at the contact.
Then her hips are bucking wildly, and she holds onto me for dear life as she rides my cock. Watching her come undone on top of me as my own pleasure builds is unimaginable. She’s wild and untamed in a way that I’ve never experienced before.
Her walls start to tighten around me as her pleasure overtakes her, and I’m falling over the edge, clinging to her for dear life. She kisses me sloppily, our breaths becoming one, as her body shudders with her own orgasm.
When we finish, she nearly collapses on top of me, and I hold her there for a while, not ready to let her go either. This is insane. It’s not who I am or who I’ve ever been. Sex has always been a well-planned and highly controlled element in my life. She makes me feel like I’m a teenager.
When she finally moves, the oxygen makes its way to my brain.
“We can’t make a habit of this,” I tell her, looking up to brush a lock of hair behind her ear.
“I know.” She nods, and then she gets up, walking toward the bathroom without a backward glance.
11
ALINA
I’m dreaming when he wakes me. I’m warm and heavy, my body loose in a way that only comes when exhaustion finally wins.
The dream stops abruptly, though it takes me a while to process why. For a few seconds, I don’t know where I am, only that I don’t want to move. I’m so comfortable and so very tired.
Then Andrei’s voice cuts through the fog.
“Alina.”
It’s quiet, but urgent. It’s controlled and tight, not panicked, but not calm either. I can’t respond until he calls my name a third time and gently grabs my shoulders. That’s enough to fully pull me out of my dream world.
I blink awake, my eyes struggling to adjust to the dim light. My heart stutters when I realize he’s hovering over me, already dressed and alert. His hand rests lightly on my shoulder, steady and grounding.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, my voice thick with sleep. “Why did you wake me up?”
“I’m so sorry, Alina, but we have to move,” he says. “Now.”
My body reacts before my thoughts do. Adrenaline floods my veins, washing away the remnants of sleep. I push myself upright, the blanket sliding off my shoulders. I move to get out of bed as he steps away from me, moving around the room like he’s checking the perimeter.
“What time is it?” I whisper.
“Two in the morning,” he replies. “Get your shoes.”
“Why?” I ask, though part of me already knows. “What’s going on?”
“There was an incident,” he says vaguely, but his tone is enough to tell me that our safehouse is no longer safe.
“What does that mean?” I ask, suddenly terrified.
“It means this location is no longer secure,” he says. “Someone intercepted one of my guards on the way back with supplies. That means they may know his route. They knew he’d be coming to us. We need to get out of here before they arrive.”
My stomach drops.
I run a hand through my hair, trying to calm the frantic flutter in my chest. My body wants to freeze or bolt, neither of which will help. I force myself to focus on Andrei, on the fact that he is calm and collected, moving with purpose.
“Okay,” I say, though my voice shakes. “What do we do?”
“We leave quickly and quietly,” he nods, handing me my slippers.
I don’t argue. I put them on, desperately wishing for more substantial shoes. None of that matters now, though. I move quickly, following him out of the apartment and down the stairs to the garage, where the car is already waiting for us.
