I moved the two inches between us and pressed my mouth to his and felt the shock of it move through me immediately. Not as a surprise, but the actual reality of it, which was different from the anticipation of it in all the ways that mattered. His mouth was warm and still for one heartbeat, which was the heartbeat of a man who had said,‘You will come to me,’and now had to reckon with having been right.
Then he kissed me back.
Both hands came to my hips—not gentle, not rough, the specific grip of a man who had been restraining himself for an extended and effortful period and was now, in a controlled way, stopping. His mouth on mine was exactly what I had known itwould be and, at the same time, nothing like what I had been able to prepare for.
I shoved his chest. Not away—I was past away—but turning him and pulling. He went with it, which was its own form of information, Viktor going where I led with a willingness that had nothing passive in it. My back was no longer against the wall. His was.
“You said it would be my choice,” I said against his mouth.
“Yes.” His hands were still at my hips.
“Then it’s mine.”
“It is.”
I found the buttons of his shirt. He let me. He stood against the wall of his own penthouse and let me work through the buttons with hands that were less steady than I would have preferred, and he watched me with those dark eyes in the low light.
The shirt came open. His hands moved from my hips to the zip at the back of my dress, which he found without looking, which told me something about his attention over the past hours. He drew it down with a slowness that I understood was deliberate, that Viktor was not going to rush this.
The dress fell.
He looked at me.
The way he looked was what undid what was left of my prepared distance. He looked at me the way he had looked at me through the casino floor, through every corridorand confrontation: like I was something he had decided to understand completely, and was in the process of doing so, and found the process worth the attention.
“Viktor,” I said, and my voice had lost its edges.
He moved. And then I was in his arms, and my legs were wrapped around his waist.
The bed was across the room, and we reached it in a negotiation of movement that was not graceful but was honest.
As soon as my back touched the bed, his hands sent my underwear to the floor beside the bed. Then he fully undressed in a flash and was back, kneeling between my legs.
“If you want me to stop at any time—”
“I don’t,” I interrupted breathlessly.
“You’ll let me know if you want me to stop. Say it back to me, Sofia.”
“I’ll let you know if I want you to stop,” I rushed. “Happy?”
His response was his lips coming down on mine with enough fervor to make me forget what we were talking about. His lips moved downward, from my jaw to my chest. With his hands kneading my breasts and fingers flicking the already-sensitive nipples, he kissed my stomach and went even lower.
His slow movement wasn’t enough warning as his mouth closed over my core, making my whole body shake with hunger and heat. Then his tongue was exploring the most intimate part of me, like it was what he had been starved of for a long time.
I came in very few minutes, my body quivering as a sheen of sweat covered my skin. All the while, Viktor’s tongue didn’t stop licking and sucking. He didn’t stop as I came the second time, my first orgasm crashing into the second.
“Look at me,” he uttered, the depth of his voice making it sound more like a plea and less like a demand.
My eyes landed on his. In the low light, his face above mine was not that of the Bratva boss. It was that of a man who was trying so hard to rein in a hunger to a reasonable level. I’d be lying if I said it did nothing to me.
He lined himself at my entrance, the prodding of his hard length increasing my own hunger.
I nodded, giving him a silent confirmation.
Unblinking, he slid into me. My body shifted upwards, and his hands held me back down as he pulled out slowly.
“Don’t you dare stop,” I spoke through gritted teeth.
