ZATANNA
I tossand turn for hours, covers tangled around my legs, every muscle aching with a tension I can’t unravel. My mind won’t let go—of his hands, his mouth, the way he looked at me like I was the only thing in the world that could shatter his control.
I hear the door open. I blink and he’s there: Aleksei, bare-chested and impossibly real, the city lights sliding over his skin in silver stripes. He stands at the foot of my bed, gaze dark, mouth set in that cruel, beautiful line that makes my whole body tighten with want.
I sit up, heart hammering in my chest, the sheet slipping down over my bare skin. “What are you doing here?” My voice comes out soft, shaky, equal parts fear and hope.
He doesn’t answer at first—just crosses the room in two steps, all heat and muscle and hunger. The bed dips as he kneels, hands sliding up my calves, my thighs, pressing my knees apart until I’m open for him, exposed to the hungry sweep of his eyes.
His mouth finds mine, crushing, desperate, stealing my breath. He tastes like danger and want, like secrets I should never have learned. His hand tangles in my hair as he deepens the kiss, tongue sliding against mine until I’m dizzy, whimpering into his mouth.
He pulls back just enough to breathe me in, his lips ghosting along my jaw, down my neck, his voice low and ragged. “I couldn’t stay away from you. I’ve tried, Zatanna. God, I’ve tried.”
His palm finds my breast, thumb rolling over my nipple until it peaks, aching, then trails lower—down my belly, over my hip, between my legs. He slips his fingers beneath my panties, finds me soaked and throbbing for him.
“I keep seeing you, everywhere,” he murmurs, voice harsh with need. “Do you have any idea what you do to me? How fucking badly I want you?”
I can’t speak—I can barely breathe. I arch into his hand, trembling, helpless. “Aleksei…”
He growls my name, pressing his mouth to my ear, hot and filthy. “I’m going to make you come on my fingers first. Then I’m going to fuck you, slow and deep, until you can’t remember anything but my name.”
He slides a finger inside me, slow, teasing, as his lips devour my throat, his other hand fisted in my hair, holding me exactly where he wants me. I’m lost, falling, unraveling for him. Every part of me burns with desperation, aching for more.
I gasp, body arching, fingers clutching the sheets, only to be jolted awake by the shrill beep of my alarm.
For a moment, I lie there, breathless, heart still racing, the ache between my legs as real as the sunlight bleeding in through the curtains. The echo of his hands, his mouth, the filthy things he whispered—they cling to me, hot and humiliating and so,sogood.
It takes a few seconds before I realize I’m alone in my bed, covers tangled, my skin flushed and damp with sweat. Reality crashes back: my tiny apartment, my rumpled clothes, and my phone blinking with the time.
I’m late.
“Shit,” I tumble out of bed, tripping over last night’s jeans and scrambling to the bathroom. Toothbrush, quick rinse, deodorant, and hair twisted into something barely presentable. My hands are still shaking as I pull on a skirt and blouse, the memory of the dream making my thighs clench as I rush out the door.
The city rushes past in a blur as I run for the subway, one arm flailing for my bag, the other clutching my phone, as I pray I’m not too late. I can’t afford another mistake
I rush through the revolving doors, cheeks burning, hair barely tamed, shoes pinching my feet from the sprint. The lobby is already buzzing, and the elevators seem to crawl, every floor a fresh spike of anxiety.
When I finally spill onto my floor, Lina nearly collides with me by the copier, her eyes huge with alarm. “Zee! Where were you? You’re so late—Mr. Vasiliev has been asking for you since you didn’t clock in. Are you okay?”
I gulp, my thoughts immediately ricocheting back to yesterday—Aleksei’s hands, his voice, the way he looked at me as I ran from his office, wrecked and exposed.
“I… I overslept,” I mumble, not daring to meet her eyes. “I’m so sorry, Lina. I know it’s not like me. Did he… did he say what he wanted?”
Lina bites her lip, glancing nervously toward the corner office. “No, but he seemed… tense. More than usual. Honestly, you should go see him as soon as you drop your stuff. He doesn’t like to wait.”
My stomach knots.What am I even doing here?After yesterday, after seeing him like that—after what happened, is it even appropriate for me to be here? Shouldn’t I just walk out, save whatever dignity I have left?
But the answer is simple, and humiliating: Ineedthis job. Desperate doesn’t even begin to cover it. Rent, food, the thin edge between survival and failure… All of it depends on me keeping my head down and pushing through.
So, I nod, clutch my bag tighter, and force my legs to move toward his office.
Lina grabs my elbow before I can bolt for my desk, lowering her voice to a worried whisper. “Zee, seriously, you should go apologize to him. Mr. Vasiliev doesn’t like people being late, and—well, he really doesn’t like being kept waiting.”
I swallow hard, glancing toward the closed door of his office. Just the thought of facing him again—after everything—makes my stomach twist with nerves and shame.
“I will,” I say quickly, hugging my bag to my chest. “I’ll do it… later. I just need a minute to, you know, settle in. Maybe I can say I had a doctor’s appointment, or my train broke down…”
Lina stares at me, eyebrows up, lips parted in confusion. “You’re going to lie to the boss? Zee, that’s… kind of risky. He always knows when someone’s lying.”
